It’s said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but which words, and whose stories? University Theater’s recent production of Ryan Scott Oliver’s 35mm: A Musical Exhibition invites us to explore this question through music, movement, and imagery.
35mm is not your typical musical—in fact, it arguably isn’t a musical at all. Rather, it’s constructed around songs and a series of photographs taken by Oliver’s partner, Matthew Murphy. Each song corresponds to a specific image, with the photographs inspiring the music and lyrics, and in turn, the music shaping how we see the photographs.
The show exists outside the bounds of space, time, or narrative. Each photograph captures a fleeting moment—an isolated glimpse of life unfolding. There’s no indication of where or when these moments take place. While the songs reuse actors, there’s no continuous story and are no recurring characters. In fact, the characters’ names are hardly mentioned.
Instead, the songs are loosely connected by recurring themes: love, loss, and grief. 35mm is also distinctive in its staging. Performers often sing at microphone stands, creating a static but focused visual experience. This production, with only a few exceptions, adheres closely to that format.
University Theater’s production of 35mm fully embraces its conceptual roots. Entering Theater West, the audience steps into a darkroom—an intentional choice that, as director Jo Selmeczy explained in an interview, was inspired by a research trip to the Edelstone darkroom on campus. Lighting designer Lydia Gafford brings that vision to life with striking detail, using dark red lighting to bathe the space.
Scenic Designer Rachel Linton’s work is similarly evocative. Clotheslines crisscross the room, clipped with photographs—one strand even includes the original images that inspired the show, carried in by actors just before it begins. In one corner, a projector loops through these photos, casting them onto a blank board. Upstage, a cart of stop baths—used during the second stage of film development—anchors the space, while four mic stands are positioned downstage. The mic stands limit the actors’ ability to move freely onstage, so Selmeczy brought in a group of six dancers to add choreography to select numbers. Unfortunately, these choreographed moments are confined to the first half of the show, leaving me wishing for more as the performance continued. While the integration of song and dance was occasionally uneven, it energized the numbers in which it appeared, bringing an unexpected vitality to the production.
“The show really is an experience in all senses of the word,” Selmeczy told me, describing it as a “rollercoaster.”
As the show moved seamlessly through its 80-minute runtime, I was also struck by the technical elements that elevated the production. Though minimalist in set and props, the lighting design by Lydia Gafford brings the emotional depth of each moment to life. A square light in the shape of a film frame surrounds one actor during “Stop Time,” the show’s opening number. Later, somber blues and yellows blend with hazy purples. At key moments, flashing lights punctuate the stage, infusing the room with energy.
In speaking with Selmeczy and Co–Production Manager Andrei Thüler, I gained deeper insight into how 35mm came to life. Selmeczy, who previously directed the Dean’s Men production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, found that experience to be a valuable lesson in “how much [they] could do with not a lot—how to make something beautiful.” Selmeczy used that perspective to approach the challenges of this production with an egalitarian mindset.
Both Selmeczy and Thüler emphasized the collaborative nature of the rehearsal process, where the entire team worked together to elevate each other’s skills toward a shared goal. They credited Co–Production Manager Eleni Lefakis for assembling such a talented and diverse crew. Despite challenges, such as a limited rehearsal period and being relegated to smaller spaces, the team persevered and quickly overcame these obstacles.
When asked how they would describe the mood of the production, Selmeczy replied, “Everyone is inspired by something.” In the case of 35mm, inspiration is contagious.
Whether it springs from love, grief, memory, or the sheer visual beauty of photography, the production not only highlights the emotions that move the performers, but it also invites reflection on these emotions from the audience.
