More Than a Show—It’s a Celebration
The thing about a good party is, you don’t always know what you’re walking into. You might get an awkward silence. You might get lukewarm spinach dip. Or—if you’re lucky—you might find yourself wrapped up in something unexpected, like a room full of strangers laughing together over a bubbling pot of dahl. Mrs. Krishnan’s Party, now at Marin Theatre, is that kind of lucky.
This isn’t a play where you sit back quietly in the dark, politely ignoring the person rustling candy wrappers two rows over. It’s a full-on, feet-on-the-table, hands-in-the-cooking-pot kind of night. Marin Theatre’s Boyer Main Stage has been transformed into the cluttered backroom of a convenience store, with audience members seated right in the thick of it. And your level of participation? Well, that depends on how adventurous you’re feeling.
Want to stay in the safe zone? You can. But if you sit in the “Cheeky Seats,” be prepared: you may end up cooking, dancing, or suddenly finding yourself in an impromptu comedy duo—no rehearsal required. It’s immersive theater at its most unpredictable, which means no two performances are ever the same.
And what a party it is. Even before the story begins, the atmosphere buzzes with energy. Guests are handed colorful gauze scarves, garlands, and leis to wear. Balloons are passed around and, when the moment strikes, sent soaring into the air like we’re all in on some giant, joy-filled secret. It’s the kind of immersive experience that doesn’t just break the fourth wall—it dances on top of it.
At the heart of it all is Mrs. Krishnan, played with warmth and spark by Kalyani Nagarajan, a woman hoping for a quiet evening in her store’s back room. But James—a university student with DJ dreams, played by Justin Rogers—has other plans. He kicks off the show, welcoming guests and organizing a surprise Onam celebration in her honor. James sets the tone as the party’s emcee and master of ceremonies, drawing the audience into the spirit of the evening with high energy and improvisational flair. While Mrs. Krishnan tries to keep things grounded, James leans into the chaos, creating space for connection, laughter, and joy.
Nagarajan brings infectious energy and expressive physicality to the role, embodying Mrs. Krishnan’s warmth, exasperation, and joy with every glance and gesture. Her thick Indian accent can sometimes make dialogue tricky to catch, but her face, her body language, and her impeccable comedic timing do a lot of the talking. You might miss a word here or there, but you’ll never miss the meaning. She carries the performance with such a vibrant presence that Mrs. Krishnan doesn’t feel like a character—she feels like the host of the best dinner party in town.
And speaking of dinner—yes, there’s food. Throughout the show, a pot of dahl simmers gently onstage, filling the space with warm, comforting aromas. And then, as the night winds down, the cast serves it to the audience. No plastic-wrapped intermission snacks here—just a simple, shared meal that turns an already communal experience into something even more intimate.
The script shifts each night, responding to audience interaction. Someone might be invited to help with the cooking. Another might suddenly be part of a spontaneous skit. A bit of improv here, a dance break there—this production thrives on unpredictability.
And yes, there’s dancing. One moment Mrs. Krishnan is stirring dahl and cracking jokes; the next, she’s leading a dance from atop a table, sweeping everyone into celebration. Between the music, movement, and moments of unrehearsed connection, the play becomes less of a performance and more of a shared experience—one you don’t just watch, but feel part of.
What truly sets Mrs. Krishnan’s Party apart is how it lingers. As the lights came up, no one rushed to the exits. We stayed. We ate together. A small, simple gesture—but one that brought everything full circle. The play ends, but the party continues.
Playwrights Jacob Rajan and Justin Lewis, co-founders of New Zealand’s Indian Ink Theatre Company, have created something uniquely heartfelt—part storytelling, part improv, part social experiment in joyful human connection. John Verryt’s cluttered, lived-in set and Jane Hakaraia’s warm, inviting lighting make the space feel less like a theater and more like someone’s kitchen on a festival day.
If you’re in the mood for something different—something surprising, genuine, and irresistibly fun—Mrs. Krishnan’s Party is worth pulling up a chair for. And if you leave a little hungrier than when you arrived, well—don’t worry. They’ve got that covered too.
Performances & Tickets
Mrs. Krishnan’s Party runs through March 30 at Marin Theatre, 397 Miller Avenue, Mill Valley. Tickets range from $47–$97, plus a $6 handling fee per total order. Visit MarinTheatre.org or call 415-388-5208 for availability and ticket purchases.
This is a short run, so get your tix now!
