Did you see Katy Perry in the news for being in that space shuttle for 15 minutes? What do you think of that guy who fatally shot the United Healthcare CEO? As much as we like to hate the wealthy (eat the rich!) as the more anti-capitalistic generation, it is hard to ignore the fact that it fascinates us, albeit in a morbid way. We like the sheer hedonism, depravity and power-hungry nature of money, and where money follows, there is death. Genre-defining murder mystery writers like Agatha Christie and Sir Conan Doyle have entertained this idea of what would happen if you throw a bunch of self-absorbed peacocks into one enclosed space. Murder, of course. 

The irony of putting up such an extravagant, lavish setting was evident as one walks into the booked out Monash Sports Hall littered with plastic tables to mimic the glass-topped ones you can find in a ballroom. Party streamers and fake flower centerpieces added to the faux-expensive atmosphere, however the people attending decided to pull out all the stops. Velvet dresses with thigh high slits, sequined masks and patterned pocket squares were the theme, with regular university students transformed into members of the high echelons of society. Each student belongs to an influential family, with a total of 10 such families controlling everything from industry to politics. They are handed wax-sealed invitations as well as roles to play, from fathers to mistresses. 

With the swish of his cape, the host of the ball welcomes his guests and before he can finish the last of his pretentious speech, a guest drops dead at one of the tables. A ring of gasps echo around the room, and a detective conveniently materialises in that moment to ask the guests to aid her in the investigation, as is fitting for the genre. The guests now get to mingle and interact with each other, probing alibis and hanging onto every word to try and figure out who could be the murderer. Right when you’re getting immersed, another guest drops dead, this time with a knife in her back. The imaginary doors of the ballroom open to a set of game stations, which provide additional clues to the families that win them. 

As the mysteries are slowly pieced together, the tension heightens. You see the actors throwing accusations at each other and the host grows more and more dishevelled after each murder. Each murder unravelled his appearance, with his back hunched and violent bruises appearing over his eyelids. My favourite was the president’s daughter Veronica publicly discrediting the character of the detective every chance she got, calling her out for her seeming unprofessionalism and alleged affair with her fiancé. The actors deserve a lot of credit, with how they were able to shepherd the guests through all the beats of the story, as well as express very real and flawed aspects of humanity.  The attention to characterisation and costuming made all of us guess what was a clue and what was theater. 

Finally, the detective concludes her investigation and two people are arrested, drawing the immersive night to a close. The murder plot involves all the classics: betrayal, jealousy and egos too big to survive in the same room. The families that deduced the murderers and motives correctly get to walk away with a prize, and a sense of smug satisfaction.

The plot was too complicated to be explained at the end, as many guests would agree, however the opportunity to play house in a pretend ballroom took precedence. It is part of the human fantasy to escape once in a while, and a masquerade ball is the perfect avenue for it with its anonymity and Dionysiac aspects. Combined with the innate curiosity of our species, there was a collective drive in the room to solve the murders as well as enjoy being someone else. Despite massive efforts to match the production value of the story itself, actors kept checking their phones for the script and the random violin music playing in the background made things a bit too obvious that you were trapped in a cheesy murder mystery. However, the success of the event only goes to prove that murder mysteries don’t have to be convincing or plausible. The murders just have to be fun, 

written by Sanjana Rajagopal

photos by Iliana & Rida