Rubber Repertory's The Casket of Passing Fancy is not a play, and it’s not, in any conventional sense, improv. It’s a hyper-participatory extravaganza of perpetual surprise, culminating in a theatrical experience that, like a psychedelic Choose Your Own Adventure story, tailors to each individual audience member’s taste, curiosity, or hunger.

The Blue Theatre has been transformed into a parlor with a sundry assortment of chairs, sitting amidst a colorful mess of paper and metallic confetti later revealed to be the remnants of indoor fireworks. A wordless figure, looking almost two-dimensional in a paper owl mask, stares without relenting, as the ever-unsuspecting audience wonders what’s going to happen next.

When the Duchess (Jennifer Underwood) makes her grand entrance, her commanding presence and thunderous voice assure that you will not question her authority. She tells you, among other things, “The rules of the game are simple. You will receive a series of offers. You are expected to choose one.” (Mild spoilers after the jump. -Ed.)

We learn that once an offer has been passed on, or delivered, it will not be repeated again. The question, “Who wants to examine an uncut one?” was answered enthusiastically from an audience member the previous night, so it is no longer available.

(The following is reviewer Sarah Marie's personal experience.... -Ed.)

When the game begins, the Duchess asks, “Who wants to hear the plumpest, juiciest piece of gossip they’ve ever heard?” I’m a sucker for a good story and taste-driven adjectives, so my hand shoots up immediately. I’m asked to approach her desk, and sign my name with a purple feather pen. Then she says, “Joseph will show you where to go.”

I hadn’t expected to leave the room. Joseph, heretofore known to me as The Man in the Owl Mask, collects my things from my chair, and I suddenly realize I’m not coming back. He leads me to an isolated area backstage, and silently indicates to my new host, Rebecca, that I’ve accepted the gossip offer...and not to forget my bag when I leave. I can hear laughter from the parlor, and I wonder what opportunities the Casket of Passing Fancy holds for others, but something tells me I’ve chosen rightly. Rebecca informs me that there are three categories of gossip to choose from—Celebrity Gossip, Local Gossip, and Cast Gossip. As a former theatre major, I choose the topic closest to my heart, and a titillating tale unfolds of a romance replete with sparks-run-wild. This is not mean-spirited gossip, but it’s crackling with excitement because, let’s face it, people are exciting.

Once your personal offer “wraps,” you have three choices: Sit in the mysterious, curtain drawn Waiting Room, sit outside and engage in likely-giddy conversation with others about their offers, or, if you’re not waiting with anyone you attended with, go home. Under no circumstances are you allowed to re-enter the parlor.

Some offers might leave you with keepsakes. One happy attendee chose to go on a Hansel and Gretel adventure, and followed a trail of breadcrumbs to a chocolate cupcake and a beautiful music box containing a note from the Witch. One person realized his dream of directing a car horn symphony, producing cacophonous melodies in a vacant lot; someone else chose to enjoy a “can-can on grapes,” wherein the cast’s women danced the can-can—with cartoonish French accents—in a kiddie pool filled with grapes and grape juice. The participant was then generously invited to “taste the fruits of her labor” from a glass goblet. For one offer, an “opera in a can” was a beautifully sung aria performed during urination, and one unsuspecting gentleman learned “When, Where, Why, and How the Duchess wants it.” Generous in passing on their talents, one cast member taught someone to walk a tightrope.

The Casket of Passing Fancy is Alice’s Wonderland, in the flesh. Where will it take you?