Mimesophobia

They seemed like the perfect couple. Attractive. Well-educated. Affluent. Why did the husband brutally murder his wife and take his own life? Aaron and Henry, two young wannabe screenwriters at a writer's retreat struggle with crippling blocks as they seek to solve the mystery. Shawn, an academic teetering on the edge of insanity grapples with her own possible involvement in the killing, while writing a book about America's obsession with violence. Meanwhile, the murder victim's sister attempts to reconstruct the truth from the ashes of her late sister's diary, becoming a celebrity in the process. What really happened that violent night, and will any of them come close to uncovering the truth? "MIMESOPHOBIA is] defined as 'the morbid fear of slavish imitation' ... The work is framed as a reality TV show, documentary reenactment, description of a film script and a murder mystery all rolled into a 100-minute show. The result is a theatrical exercise that is an intelligent, funny, satirical look into the American obsession with violence. Our voyeuristic instincts make murder and the cult of celebrity into a fun spectator sport that we can't get enough of. MIMESOPHOBIA unravels as part murder mystery, part reality TV show, with a glimpse into the creation of a film. Playwright Murillo structures much of the work using a film script description complete with camera shot directions. This effectively paints the action in our minds eye as it evokes humor and wit from the camera point of view. The work dodges between Hollywood and Hyde Park Chicago as it tracks one family's tragedy ... The work demands our full attention as it moves briskly between forms to tell the story. Sprinkles of wit, satire and raw humor propel this challenging work ... This provocative play has many levels of meaning that contain cautionary elements about contemporary entertainment." -Tom Williams, Chicago Critic "Funny, provocative, and poignant, MIMESOPHOBIA is a huge success ... and one of the more refreshing plays to land this season." -Scotty Zacher, Chicago Theater Beat