“Samca” is haunting Black Creek Pioneer Village.
Once upon a time, there were two sisters named Prava and Miha, who lived in a small village in the Romanian countryside in the late 1800s. Their mother had died when Miha was a baby, and their father sent the young girls to live in a convent school, where they were taught by nuns. They loved and relied on each other, walking everywhere hand in hand. All the while, Prava took care of her baby sister Miha and protected her from harm, keeping at bay Miha’s fears – of her father, of men more generally, and most of all of Samca, an ancient mythological evil with 19 other names, who was said to prey on girls.
It sounds like we’re headed towards a traditional happily-ever-after fairy tale . . . but beware SAMCA . . . for instead, this is a grim and gripping folk horror tale. Performed charismatically by playwrights Natalia Bushnik and Kathleen Welch with a talented cast of multidisciplinary artists (Andra Zlatescu, Madeline Kennedy, Jenna Geen, Camila Farah, Sydney Nicholson, Elif Coşkun, Beatrice Kwan, and Fae Alexander), Spindle Collective and Riot King’s SAMCA is at once a spellbinding and sobering experience. Bushnik and Welch’s portrayal of Miha and Prava anchors the play, with both actors capturing arrestingly the emotional intensity of their characters’ journeys. The rest of the talented ensemble play the role of Zâne, fertility forest spirits who guide the audience through pockets of memories found in the forest. They bring music, madness, mythological context and communal intensity to the play’s three performing spaces, embodying the themes of sisterhood, survival, and resistance against the forces— human, natural and supernatural—that seek to control the sisters’ fates.
Riot King showed its prowess for leveraging an unconventional venue for maximum impact with last season’s sold out Suddenly with Summer, and director and co-producer Brandon Kinnon exhibits that canny knack once again. The site-specific production unfolds in the stillness of hidden woods on the northwest corner of Jane and Steeles, which are technically a part of the Black Creek Pioneer Village site. But even if you once visited Black Creek Pioneer Village or drive by this spot regularly, you’ve never been here: this is an oddly local, yet otherworldly location. In the inky darkness, we gather behind an old farmhouse at the first of three performance locations. Two rows of seats face two rustic wooden platforms framing a tree in their centre, with the dark forest visible behind. The inevitable urban soundtrack of planes and cars persists, but senses become hyper-attuned to every insect buzz and rustle of leaves, and to the copious scratching, crying and battling of animals in the brush. The immersive environment, which features striking lighting design by Franco Pang, amplifies the eeriness and thematic heft of SAMCA, deepening the already unsettling story.
As the menacing forest setting takes on a life of its own, it punctuates the theme of nature as a force that can both nurture and destroy. The story opens with the Zâne dragging themselves from the trees and grass. Dressed in white shifts, stained with what looks like blood, the Zâne glow against the night sky, singing and dancing (in gorgeous movement sequences choreographed by Skye Rogers) across the grass, and arranging and rearranging themselves on the wooden platforms. They are our fierce and uncompromising way into the story, which they narrate with a shifting blend of blunt prose, original music, and mesmerizing movement and dance. These whirling, watching, moaning spirits provide a haunting framework for the sisters’ journey that enhances the play’s folk horror aesthetic. Their incorporation of the guitar and banjo, alongside a saw with a bow, heightens the tension and intensifies the eerie otherworldliness of the narrative.
At its heart, SAMCA is the story of these two sisters coming to grips first with their sexuality and then with the lottery that is motherhood. The pair voice symbolic fear of the titular Samca, who preys on women and personifies their deepest fears, but the play’s primary focus is confronting the real-world desires and horrors – and the psychological and physical ramifications – of sexual activity. In fact, Miha’s pregnancy as a result of sexual assault drives much of the plot, with the consequences of this act rippling through her once-close relationship with Prava, whose views on sexuality, motherhood and autonomy differ from hers, driving an explosive denouement.
Kinnon’s direction of the show complements its gripping plot, skillfully intertwining the themes of sexual awakening, trauma, and motherhood with Romanian folklore. One of the most striking aspects of SAMCA is its depiction of the complex, often uncomfortable intersections between female sexuality and religious ideology. Bushnik and Welch use these conflicts to explore how societal expectations of women are further laden by religious notions of purity and sin. The play’s exploration of fertility and motherhood is sobering, and its folk horror framework serves to enhance the exploration of female rights – and maybe sometimes wrongs – in a way that feels at once ancient and topical, especially during the brutish post-Roe vs. Wade era.
In a sense, SAMCA’s ability to feel fresh, yet familiar is perhaps its greatest strength. The play draws explicit references to classic folk tales like Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel, but subverts these stories by centering the internal struggles of the female characters rather than the external threats posed by the villainous Samca. And in the end, the darkness-intensified horror in SAMCA nests more in the psychological and societal constraints placed onto women than the physical threat of any mythical creature. This blend of folk horror, mythology, and feminist themes viscerally unnerves, lingering long after you trudge back to the road after the challenging final speech.
Having won accolades including First Place at the 2022 Hamilton Fringe New Play Contest and a Top Ten Finalist spot in the 2021 Wildfire National Playwriting Competition, SAMCA has already —deservedly—garnered critical acclaim, and Riot King’s Toronto production should only add to its reputation. Ultimately, SAMCA wraps within a chilling and immersive experience a gripping story that prods us to reflect on the historical and cultural forces that shape societal constructs of womanhood.
Pack the bug spray, grab a ticket . . . and keep your eyes and ears wide open.
Riot King and Spindle Collective’s SAMCA runs until October 5, 2024, 7:30 pm ET. Reserve tickets using a pay-what-you-can model on samca.bpt.me.
© Arpita Ghosal, Sesaya Arts Magazine, 2024
