Boasting Green Screens And Meta-Internet Commentary, The 127th Annual Varsity Show Takes A Lighthearted Approach To A Heavy Year

By Sophie Craig Nigel Telman, Columbia Daily Spectator

May 10, 2021, 5:36 PM

For Columbia’s musical theater scene, this past year has been an exercise in pushing the boundaries of the virtual stage. While many shows have adopted a creative digital approach, this is the first show of the year to equip performers with green screens and let them wander around inside the Internet itself.

On May 7, the 127th Annual Varsity Show streamed live on YouTube. Directed by Christian Palomares, CC ’22, and co-written by Gigi Russo, BC ’22, and Wesley Schmidt, CC ’22, “Campus in the Cloud” follows the spring term of two undergraduates, a first-year programming whiz and a senior aspiring journalist, as they cope with feelings of loneliness—and the fact that the entire University has just been physically trapped inside the Internet.

This pairing of lighthearted wackiness and deeper, more personal themes characterizes much of this edition of the Varsity Show—to a somewhat jarring effect. Though lines like “raise a glass to your crippling depression” catch the audience off guard when paired with the jaunty opening music, the show finds a solid rhythm bouncing between opposite ends of the emotional spectrum.

“We wanted to accurately represent how Columbia is feeling,” Russo said. “I think that’s a huge place where we reached out to people—especially seniors and freshmen who had such a distinct experience this year.”

The plot revolves around Eve, a Spectator alumna portrayed by Lindsey Belisle, BC ’23, and Dani, a lonely Barnard first-year, played by Anna Kasun, CC ’24. While Eve struggles to find the motivation to graduate, Dani becomes caught up in the master plan of the show’s two supervillains—the registrars. University Registrar Barry Kane, played by Callum Kiser, CC ’21, and Barnard Registrar Jennifer Simmons, played by Jackie Balestrieri, BC ’24, convince Dani to engineer a computer virus powerful enough to pull all students inside of the University servers and trap them in the virtual world.

Freed from booking classrooms, the registrars prance around campus in 1920s evening-wear, looking like Ed and Grace from “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” if they fell into the opening number of “Chicago.” Between their zany chemistry, unplaceable East Coast accents, and pitiful understanding of Zoom waiting rooms, Kiser and Balestrieri steal the show.

With its heavy use of green screen, “Campus in the Cloud” strayed from many of this year’s virtual theater performances. According to Russo, this decision was driven by the need to break free from the Zoom mold. Green screens let the actors walk out of their rigid gallery boxes and into the offbeat, sci-fi universe of Twitter, LinkedIn, and Columbia Confessions. And, as it turns out, physically stepping inside of a doomed when2meet is a comedic goldmine.

“Does anyone feel ill all of a sudden?” Eve asks.

“That would be the interface,” Rory says. “It feels like this site was made in 1997.”

Eve and her friends Rory and Rebecca take the audience on a wild, through-the-looking-glass tour of online life. As they track down the hacker responsible for trapping the University inside the Internet, they stumble upon a bragging competition between several students’ LinkedIn profiles, set to electronic polka music, and a genuinely mortifying Tinder montage in which the registrars “look for a third.”

While inside of Twitter—a baby blue forest with videos perched on branches—the group witnesses a thread between Amy, a graduate student teaching assistant, played by Ketsia Zinga, SEAS ’21, and interim Provost Ira Katznelson, played by Paul Hanna, CC ’23. Katznelson speaks in a quivering voice from his personal account:

“I cannot believe the negative response I have received to my comments regarding the strike. What people don’t realize is that I’m actually very sensitive, and you big meanies hurt my feelings.”

Unlike the few goofy references to the Graduate Workers of Columbia-United Auto Workers strike, the show’s depiction of students from the School of General Studies—notably, the portrayal of a racist and sexist military veteran who wants to party with first-year girls and a woman obsessed with crystals and star-signs—drew complaints. Citing the frequency of such stereotypes being spread within the Columbia community, some members of the audience saw the show’s representation of General Studies students as harmful reinforcement.

Toward the end of the performance, the group locates Dani through an anonymous apology she sent to Columbia Confessions. Eve and her friends watch as she reads the post aloud from her bedroom desk, her voice quiet and raw. It is an incredibly bleak moment in the show—one that feels almost too real. But it is also the moment that Eve, Rory, and Rebecca stop tracking down a suspect and start looking for a friend in need.

“[This year’s show] is a love letter to the Columbia community and to the perseverance of community here—[but] not necessarily the administration,” Russo said. “I think we all, as a community, can identify that there’s a love for this school and space that is very distinct from feelings about the administration and their actions this past year.”

The show’s standout number, “Lion Pride,” is a celebration of this perseverance. Composed by Evan Smolin, CC ’23, and written by Abby Rooney, CC ’22, the song is a beautiful, soaring ode to finding your way at Columbia. Belisle’s clear, elegant voice and the sparkling, comparatively spare instrumentation are both comforting and nostalgic. After a heartbreaking and tumultuous year—and an emotionally and stylistically unpredictable one-act—the ballad leaves us on a peaceful, endearing note.

“There will be wild nights and lights on the water. The open arms of your Alma Mater. And we’ll be by your side. You’ll always be part of our lion pride,” Eve sings.

Editor’s note: Abby Rooney is a former arts and entertainment editor and a senior staff writer at Spectator. Paul Hanna is a Spectator staff videographer. Varsity Show production manager Octavio Galaviz is a former editorial page editor and a senior staff writer. They were not involved in the writing or editing of this article.

Senior staff writer Nigel Telman can be contacted at nigel.telman@columbiaspectator.com. Follow him on Twitter @NigelTelman.

Staff writer Sophie Craig can be contacted at sophie.craig@columbiaspectator.com. Follow Spectator on Twitter @ColumbiaSpec.

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