Pony Cam's Burnout Paradise on Oct. 28th and 29th Is Theater Like You've Never Seen Before
This article was published by Triangle Review on 31 October 2025.
Carolina Performing Arts welcomed the Australian experimental theater collective Pony Cam to Chapel Hill Tuesday and Wednesday, Oct. 28th and 29th, for Burnout Paradise, an hour-long collision of physical endurance, absurd humor, and existential commentary. Performed at the Joan H. Gillings ArtSpace at CURRENT -- a flexible black-box theater tucked into the Carolina Square development on Franklin Street -- this production turned the sleek, modern performance space into a kinetic metaphor for the modern condition: constantly running, multitasking, and on the brink of collapse.
Pony Cam -- comprised of Claire Bird, Ava Campbell, William Strom, Dominic Weintraub, and Hugo Williams -- has built a reputation across Australia for their instinctive, physical, and community-oriented style. Their performances often blur the line between theater and social experiment, and Burnout Paradise is no exception. With its mix of physical spectacle, deadpan comedy, and interactive play, the piece functions as both a satire of overwork and a celebration of collective perseverance.
At the heart of the performance are four treadmills, each labeled with a sign -- SURVIVAL, ADMIN, PERFORMANCE, and LEISURE. Four of the five performers mount these machines and begin running, initiating an hour-long cascade of escalating tasks. The fifth performer, stationed at a table marked MERCH, plays the role of facilitator, cheerleader, and occasional snack vendor -- handing out cups of Gatorade, selling t-shirts, and recording the performers' mileage on a whiteboard.
What begins as a simple wager between performers and audience ("Can we finish all our tasks and reach our goal distance within an hour?") quickly spirals into a study of modern life's contradictions. The ADMINrunner types frantically on a laptop, completing a grant application while jogging. The SURVIVAL runner hand-rips vegetables and cooks a multicourse meal -- bread, salad, fresh pasta (and wine) -- for two audience members seated at a side table.
The LEISURE runner oscillates between indulgence and absurdity: handing out treats to audience trick-or-treaters, getting their nails painted, receiving a facial, and even being shaved while they run. And on the PERFORMANCE treadmill, the fourth runner showcases their particular talent -- belting out songs, reciting Shakespeare, etc. -- pushing the idea of artistic labor to its most literal and ludicrous extreme.
Between 10-minute sessions, the performers hydrate, and report their distances. Their exhaustion is real and unfiltered. Then, with a cheer from the MERCH attendant and laughter from the audience, they swap treadmills and do it all again. The repetitive structure -- four rounds, four roles, four bodies in constant motion -- creates a rhythm that is both hypnotic and hilarious. Each switch reveals new physical limits, new forms of chaos, and new glimpses of camaraderie.
The show's brilliance lies in how it transforms burnout -- a concept often treated as tragic or invisible -- into something tangible, communal, and even joyous. As sweat drips, pasta boils, and laptops clatter, the audience becomes complicit in the performance's escalating absurdity. We cheer them on as if at a sporting event, laughing at their self-imposed torment while recognizing our own reflection in their exhaustion. It's a sly commentary on hustle culture, multitasking, and the false idol of balance. In Pony Cam's world, balance doesn't exist -- only motion, momentum, and moments of grace in the chaos.
Despite its physical intensity, Burnout Paradise never feels punishing to watch. There's an infectious sense of playfulness throughout, and the performers' camaraderie is palpable. The humor is dry, the pacing precise, and the improvisational energy keeps the piece feeling alive and unpredictable. When the performers finally tally their total distance -- 12.7 miles at the performance that I attended -- the room erupts in applause. The joke, of course, is that by winning, they've proven the absurdity of the race itself.
The minimal set -- just treadmills, props, and a whiteboard -- allows the human body to become the central spectacle. Audience members are drawn into the experience not as passive observers but as participants: cheering, laughing, and actively helping the weary runners perform their tasks.
Burnout Paradise is a delusional love letter to labor, as Pony Cam describes it, but also a gentle invitation to step off the treadmill -- or at least to find a better rhythm while running.
Note: The CURRENT ArtSpace + Studio is also known as the Joan H. Gillings ArtSpace at CURRENT, not to be confused with the Joan H. Gillings Center for Dramatic Art (home of PlayMakers Repertory Company). If you are attending a production at the CURRENT ArtSpace + Studio, you should park in the parking decks at Granville Towers or Carolina Square.
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