If there’s a nexus between our world and the Twilight Zone in North Hollywood, it just night be Zombie Joe’s Underground Theatre.

In the years that ZJU has been operating, it has developed a cult following and a signature style all its own, as well as become a kind of “roadhouse venue of the strange” for theatrical producers with a taste for the bizarre.

Charley Gallay is just such a soul, and his first effort is Adios Dolores, a deeply strange piece that mixes absurdities with a kind of Lynchian flair.

A tall woman with a commanding presence will greets you and sit you in a waiting room chair when they enter the darkened lobby of ZJU. She’s wearing a black dress with a scarf that is equal parts matronly and va-va-voom, and cat’s eye style specs. A nearly identically dressed woman sits at the other end of the row of chairs, reading a magazine. After the obligatory waiver signing, the tall woman fits a pair of glasses identical to her own on the guest’s face, telling you to “Stay still, Dolores.”

Then there are clip on earnings, and the scarf. Soon you have been — loosely — shaped into the same 50’s-era vision of hyper-femininity and find yourself following the tall woman out onto Lankershim, where she slowly guides you to your next destination. Occasionally she turns and gives a withering, disdainful look.

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It was at this point that I became hyper conscious of how I must look, and wondered how different this walk down a major boulevard would feel if I were anything other than a rather cisgender heterosexual man. There’s a layer here to Adios Dolores that is going to play quite differently based on who you are and what your experience of gender has been.

Once back inside the venue a series of vignettes play out, each of them drawing upon stark imagery, and aesthetic tropes that borrow equally from Lynch and the Zombie Joe house style that can best be described as “Lovecraftian body dysmorphia.” All of which combines to create at points a rich sense of absolute unease.

Narratively speaking, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. Then again I wasn’t sure of what was going on through large swaths of Twin Peaks season three and it still managed to have some of my favorite episodes of television ever. A similar surreal nightmare vibe is present here — never tipping into gore, and always eluding narrative coherence in favor of thematic resonance. And while some speeches go on a bit longer than they probably need to, especially towards the back third of the piece, the overall effect is of having taken some strange narcotic. I spent nearly every minute at the edge of my awareness, and that was exhilarating.

For those of you who aren’t into being touched: for the most part you’re left untouched, save for a few moments of firm but not aggressive contact from the performers. All of whom are women, by the by, playing both male and female presenting parts. Not that this created any ease when subjected to the gaze of the performers, which summoned up a kind of existential dread. I truly, truly wonder how this would play out for someone else.

Adios Dolores represents a fascinating “hello” to LA’s immersive horror scene, and immersive theatre scene in general. It’s existence acting as a kind of promise that the most interesting works are still on the horizon, and that what’s been laid down before has become fertile ground for a wide range of imaginations.

Adios Dolores has a sold out run at ZJU Theater, 4850 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood through Sept. 3rd. Tickets are $30. A remount may be in the wings.

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