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July 26, 2015

Darkness can be thoroughly disorienting, a fact that the performance collective Aztec Economy uses to advantage in “Butcher Holler Here We Come,” at the Tank in Midtown. The play, about a fictional mining disaster in West Virginia, is lighted entirely with headlamps worn by the actors, and sometimes it isn’t lighted at all. That makes for a jarring piece of theater, though this one would be better if it were clearer in ways that have nothing to do with the illumination. It is 1973 and the playwright, Casey Wimpee, gives us five men trapped underground by a cave-in whose cause becomes part of the tale that unspools in the dim light. One man might already be dead. Another has a lung disease, and a third suffers bouts of what sound like hiccups. At first they respond to their predicament as miners might. There is praying. There is storytelling to serve as a distraction, about ghosts and an Indian tribe and the mythical creature Sheepsquatch.

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