A band of aging, ego-bruised actors in a crumbling provincial theatre abduct the merciless critic who has savaged their careers and devise a ludicrously overcomplicated plan to murder him live onstage during their own performance. What could possibly go wrong? Egos outrun intellect as the conspirators – an unhinged leading man with a hero complex, a facelift-obsessed diva, a long-in-the-tooth, narcoleptic ingénue with a cocaine habit, and a gloriously mediocre drunk – attempt to carry out a revenge plot they scarcely understand. Aided by a disgruntled stage manager and a stagehand who may be the only competent person in the building, the scheme rapidly unravels into missed cues, malfunctioning tech, duplicate costumes, bungled pickpocketing, accidental concussions, and an increasingly exasperated captive critic who proves far steadier than his would-be executioners. What results is a razor-sharp backstage satire about vanity, desperation, and the thin line between performance and reality, where the show must go on even if someone doesn’t. Brute Farce is a biting, satirical look at the tangled, often dysfunctional, and sometimes explosive relationship between actors and critics.
