Vaudevillains
Rosetint Community Theatre
Lyric Hall
827 Whalley Ave., New Haven
June 13, 2026
Mags the Marvel Monkey didn’t seem to care that I just complimented her outfit. What outfit? She’s a monkey. I didn’t know what to do next.
“She wants a snack,” Marissa, a player, suggested.
I tilted my snack plate down to Mags, who had hands and feet on the carpeted floor, and handed over a naked cracker off of my snack plate. She took it hungrily, and skittered off.
After a few minutes, Mags clanged her cymbals, and Phineous Babernacle, the Showman, invited us back to the stage.
We were all a part of Rosetint Community Theatre’s production Saturday night of Vaudevillains, an immersive theatrical experience and live social deduction game “set against the world of a 1930s vaudeville stage.” The performance as held at Lyric Hall, which was originally built as a Vaudeville theater more than a century ago.
Marissa was one of 20 “players” working together to “uncover hidden killers”, or “Vaudevillains,” amongst them. I was one of 40 spectators who knew the identity of the Vaudevillains.
While spectators weren’t allowed to interfere in the game at all, we could interact with Rose’s Vaudeville troop, played by the theatre’s actors.
Phineas, with his booming calls to attention and over-the-top nature, led the troop and called the shots, though no one seemed happy about it. Madame Le Faux was a fortune teller, casting spells at Phineas’s instruction (while rolling her eyes) and leading tarot card readings during breaks. The Sister Act, or Gwendolyn and Itty Bitty Willy, were joined at the hip. Ruff Huxley, the sad Clown, was constantly raising funds for clown school. The Crooner was a self-proclaimed elitist.
And was Mags actually a human conditioned to act like a monkey?
As a professionally awkward person, I was struck by the actors’ ability to adapt, when I could only do so with the closest of friends (a big shoutout to the three of you!). Where do these actors go? I wondered. The entire cast adapted seamlessly to game outcomes and time crunches all night, even quarreling with each other during breaks.
After introducing myself to Phineous and Mags, I took a step back for the night. I was simply happy to observe their banter with the other spectators. One conversation I overheard was regarding a shared lament for the “talkies,” or film, that were drawing crowds away from Rose’s Vaudeville.
Each round consisted of a challenge to potentially win shields, or one-time protection from being murdered by the Vaudevillains. Madame cast a spell that forced everyone asleep so that the Vaudevillains could choose their next kill. When everyone awoke, Phineas read from a just-received telegram breaking the bad news: Julia, or Casey, and more throughout the night, had just died. Romy, age 13, was survived by a spouse and multiple children. The players then voted to execute an accused Vaudevillain.
Most of the time they were wrong. But at least we got to hear the troop sing their tune of adieu, before the player revealed that they were a “good patron.”
Rosetint took every opportunity for further spectacle. I admit that I was shocked upon reading that this night could take up to five hours, even recruiting a friend to give my cat his medicine just in case. But time flew so quickly that I didn’t even have time to worry about my little Eddie Spaghetti.
After another innocent was murdered, a member of Rose’s Vaudeville troop took to the stage. While the Sister Act, adorned in a snug black beaded dress that could barely fit them both, was mid-croon, Phineas split them in half with a sword. The audience gasped. This was the most extreme form of sabotage yet from the Showman, who always looked to upstage every act. The sisters, now free to be full-bodied individuals, ran off the stage in panic. The Showman, once happy to provide some extra drama to the show, then worried about payroll. Did he now have to pay them both?
At one point, the game was feeling a bit bleak – all of the Vaudevillains were still alive, and the group was struggling to make any progress. But then new mechanics came into play. The role of a secret “seer” came into play, who could quietly confirm with Phineas if a player was a villain.
Phineas auctioned off a shield and a secret hint, open to the audience or a player. The seer was outbid by an audience member, who strangely decided not to give either advantage to the seer. Then the seer was killed.
For the last two hours of the show, the spectators were howling. Even though the co-workers, friends, or family they came to see compete were already out, we were all-in. Someone mentioned that despite the Knicks game also happening that night, the excitement was somehow still here.
“Please speak up!” A spectator yelled, while the group was deliberating on everyone’s motivations. Madame and Phineas reminded us to control our reactions whenever the discussion had gone astray, so as not to influence the game. But the energy remained at an all-time high late into the night, and spectators sitting on the floor were now bowling over as the majority votes were revealed.
In the end, two good patrons survived, bound together by a pact that either of them could’ve turned their back on at any point.
After we clapped for them, the troop reconvened for a thrilling finale that involved a murder of their own, and sirens blaring. The remaining performers then ran off the stage and hopefully far away from the police, rushing us out of our own seats to dramatically close out the show. We can’t get caught! Come on!
