The Gospel of the Damaged

Dead Canary’s Second Act and the Radical Chaos of HIR

By Avery Anderson

Step into the rehearsal room at The Studio@620 right now and you won’t find a pristine stage. You’ll find a living room that looks like it’s losing a fight with a trash compactor. It’s cluttered, chaotic, and hovering just inches above hoarder-level insanity. In the center of this domestic debris sits a patriarch in a nightgown and clown makeup, silently spooning porridge.

Welcome to the "Theatre Church" of Dead Canary.

A year ago, Stephen Riordan and Travis Moore launched Dead Canary with Venus in Fur, a slick, psychological two-hander. It was a "soft launch," a way to build the boat while already caught in the current. Today, as they kick off their second season with Taylor Mac’s HIR (pronounced "here"), the boat isn't just built—it’s intentionally being steered into the most turbulent waters Taylor Mac could conjure.

The Architecture of a Famaily in Freefall

HIR is a Pulitzer-finalist absurdist comedy that follows Isaac, a soldier returning from Afghanistan with PTSD, only to find his family home has undergone a "paradigm shift." His mother, Paige, has ceased cleaning, cooking, or acknowledging the patriarchy. His father, Arnold, is a stroke-addled shadow of a man dressed in "humiliation makeup." And his sibling, Max, is transitioning in a house where the old rules haven't just been broken—they’ve been incinerated.

"It’s a story about a family in freefall," Riordan tells me, his voice carrying the weary but wired energy of a director a week into rehearsals. "Taylor Mac writes that it’s 'absurdist with realism,' and it truly is. Every character is introduced in this chaotic way, and as the act grows, you realize these four people are all damaged. Not awful, just deeply, fundamentally damaged."

For Dead Canary, HIR isn't just a play choice; it’s a mission statement. Riordan is moving away from "stiff" regional staples and toward what he calls "urgent messages told with joy."

The Humanity of the "Unlikable"

In a cultural landscape that often demands marginalized characters be saintly icons of resilience, HIR is a middle finger to the pedestal. Max, the trans sibling, isn't a hero. Max is a snotty, annoyed teenager.

"I love that Max is a human character," Riordan says. "Oftentimes, trans people are manifested into these heroes. Sometimes they’re just humans. Sometimes they’re just pissed off and are assholes. I love that. Theater should be a snapshot into life, and in every hero is a villain."

This refusal to "spoon-feed" likable characters is the "grit" Dead Canary is betting on. In the intimate confines of the Studio, audiences will be mere feet away from the flying porridge and the familial vitriol. There is no proscenium arch to hide behind.

The One-Year Gut Check

Running a theater company in St. Pete’s rapidly shifting geography is, in Riordan’s words, "harder than I ever thought it was going to be." The transition from the "scrappy" first year to a sustainable second season has required a Virgo’s nightmare: asking for help.

"The first thing I learned is it takes much more than one Virgo to do a theater company," Riordan laughs. "I’m one of those people who hates asking for help, but this season, I’m excited to do it. And people are saying, 'Sure, why didn't you ask last year?'"

Without the "golden ticket" of non-profit status fully secured yet, Dead Canary is surviving on sheer grit, corporate sponsorships, and a partnership with Erica Sutherlin at The Studio@620. They are navigating a city that loves the arts but is increasingly expensive to create them in.

Why This, Why Now?

So, why bring a play about a clown-faced stroke victim and a radicalized mother to St. Pete in 2026? Because the "parking lot conversations" Riordan wants to spark are about the families we inherit and the ones we survive.

"I want people to go away with the reminder that every family has significant challenges," he says. "Whether you come from abuse, addiction, or religion, as an adult, you get to decide what you want to be. If you don’t listen to that voice, you might end up like the matriarch and patriarch of this family—in pretty bad shape."

Dead Canary isn't here to give you a sermon or a polished, comfortable night out. They are here to provide "Theatre Church"—a place where the "urgent message" is that being human is messy, being a family is harder, and sometimes, the only way to find joy is to put on the clown makeup and embrace the chaos.

THE DETAILS

What: HIR by Taylor Mac

Where: The Studio@620, St. Petersburg

Tickets: GA tickets $40, Student tickets $25 at the door (w/ ID); Senior discounts available.

Learn More: deadcanarytheatre.org