THE LAST BIMBO OF THE APOCALYPSE
The New Group at the Pershing Square Signature Center
The Alice Griffin Jewel Box Theatre
480 West 42nd St. between between Ninth & Tenth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through June 1, $38-$94
thenewgroup.org

Michael Breslin and Patrick Foley take an iconic 2006 photo and build an exciting mystery around it in The Last Bimbo of the Apocalypse, zeroing in on the allure of online celebrity through pop-culture obsession.

On November 29, 2006, the New York Post published a cover photograph of Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, and Paris Hilton in the front seat of a car with the headline “Bimbo Summit”; the accompanying story was called “3 Bimbos of the Apocalypse — No Clue, No Cares, No Underwear: Meet the Party Posse of the Year,” labeling Britney as Bashful, Paris as Dopey, and Lindsay as Sleepy.

Nearly twenty years later, a young woman known as She/Her Sherlock (Milly Shapiro) has a popular online true crime channel devoted to finding missing girls. “Wars and hurricanes / Botched elections, mass infections / Apocalypse is in my veins,” she sings. “So I stay inside and fixate on / Girls who disappeared / I find what no one sees or hears / I crack crimes in the end times / And I haven’t been outside in four years / No one looked for me / No one looked for me / Which means / I don’t exist unless I’m online / On their screens.” She’s excited by her latest case, announcing, “I’ve never been more stumped! This new girl is from an archaic, regressive, primitive civilization that I know nothing about. I need evidence! I need experts!”

At the same time, a pair of young men, Earworm (Luke Islam) and Bookworm (Patrick Nathan Falk), with their own channel, devoted to ’00s (the “aughts”) pop culture, that rarely gets any viewers at all, are analyzing the Post picture, seen behind them as a painting on a large canvas. “Have you ever wondered how this one photo from twenty years ago created the digital dystopia we live in today?” Earworm asks. When their only viewer logs out, they wonder if their show is over. “No!” Bookworm declares. “The first time I heard you talk about Juicy Couture tracksuits, I felt like I finally understood the cultural context of 9/11.” Earworm responds, “And I never understood why Britney Spears shaved her head until you taught me about Operation Iraqi Freedom.”

Earworm and Bookworm are surprised when Sherlock herself makes a comment, pointing out that there is a fourth girl in the photo: Barely visible extending from the backseat is a hand with a bracelet around the wrist that says Coco. They next show a 2006 video from Coco (Keri René Fuller), a wannabe star who posted a YouTube song called “Something out of Nothing” in which she declares, “I don’t wanna do / Anything / And I wanna be rewarded for it. . . . Uh huh / Gonna shoot a massive blank / Bang bang! / Gonna rob an empty bank / Am I a manifesto or a prank? / I don’t think therefore I am! / The future of this world of cameras! / I’ll take a picture on my phone / And post it so I’m not alone.”

The video tanked and, according to gossipmonger Perez Hilton, Coco was dead a few days later. Rebranding herself Brainworm, Sherlock teams up with Earworm and Bookworm to find out exactly what happened to Coco, but the only other clue they have is a selfie of Coco and two other women in a clothing store with palm trees outside. They zoom in on the photo (re-created by the cast) and decide to refer to the older woman as Coco’s mother (Sara Gettelfinger) and the other as Hoodie Girl (Natalie Walker); the Worms come up with an outrageous murder scenario that they have to abandon, but it sends them down a, well, wormhole as they dig deeper and deeper, especially when the bracelet suddenly appears on Brainworm’s doorstep.

Developed and directed by Obie winner Rory Pelsue, who worked with Breslin and Foley on This American Wife and Pulitzer Prize finalist Circle Jerk, and featuring fun choreography by Jack Ferver, The Last Bimbo of the Apocalypse is a lively, appealing ninety-minute pop opera about a group of unique characters trying to figure out who they are and what they want, seeking answers by using social media from the distant (to them) past instead of going out into the current real world. They are terrified of actual contact with other humans; Brainworm hasn’t been outside in four years and hides her face when she is online, having been traumatized by a single cruel comment from an anonymous user when she was twelve. Earworm, who is gay, and Bookworm, who claims he is straight, do not broadcast from the same space but are a thousand miles apart, the former in Staten Island, the latter in Nebraska — and afraid of sharing their true feelings with each other. The three actors might be onstage together, but their fears and physical distance are palpable; they are near but so far.

The book does meander a few times, particularly with references to the old MTV show Total Request Live, but it always manages to come back around, complete with a cool double twist.

Stephanie Osin Cohen’s set consists of a series of concentric semicircles from which various elements occasionally drop down, providing information about the Worms’ search. Amith Chandrashaker’s lighting casts ever-shifting colors across the stage, along with illumination from the phones when things get dark. Cole McCarty’s costumes get funky, from hoodies and T-shirts with emojis to internet chic, while Matthew Armentrout’s hair and wig designs are fab. The sound design, by Megumi Katayama and Ben Truppin-Brown, is loud and clear, effectively shifting between live music and online discussions. The rocking orchestrations are by music director Dan Schlosberg, who plays the keyboards, joined by Jakob Reinhardt on guitar and ukulele, Brittany Harris on bass and cello, and Emma Ford on drums and percussion; the back wall rises whenever the group is performing so we can see them in action.

The cast is an exuberant delight, highlighted by Tony winner Shapiro (Matilda the Musical, You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown) and Fuller (Six, Jagged Little Pill), who embody the loneliness that comes with online addiction. About halfway through the show, during the song “Stop Scrolling,” a character yells at Brainworm, “You think you know about the world, little girl? You know nothin’! Why don’t you get your own life and live it yourself?” then screams out the chorus: “Stop scrolling! / Stop scrolling! / Log off and live / It’s controlling you! / You will never reach the end of your feed! / This will never fill the pit of your need!” The message is delivered by a villainous figure, but it still packs a punch and strikes a nerve, for the Worms and the audience.

In 2006, many young girls considered Lindsay, Britney, and Paris role models. In her program note, one of the dramaturgs, Ariel Sibert, writes, “On TikTok, I see a lot of comments from Millennials under videos of enlightened high schoolers explaining economic inequality, or teaching their homeroom teacher what ‘twink death’ means — comments like, ‘the kids are alright’ [emojis]!!! Are the kids alright, really? Have you checked? Were they ever alright? I mean, were you?”

As the internet age continues and we all spend more and more time on our devices, are any of us alright?

[There will be a series of talkbacks taking audiences behind the scenes of the making of The Last Bimbo of the Apocalypse, including “Designing The Last Bimbo of the Apocalypse and the Y2K Era” on May 17 at 2:00 with Armentrout, assistant costume designer Jason A. Goodwin, fashion designer Cynthia Rowley, and dramaturg Cat Rodríguez; LGBTQ+ Night on May 22, moderated by Preston Crowder; and on May 27 a conversation with the cast and creative team, moderated by Bryan Campione.]

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]