I didn’t know exactly what to expect at Tuesday night’s season premiere of Sin City at the Victoria Event Centre. Somehow, I went all last year without seeing a single episode, and I missed last week’s preview show. So what exactly is a “live improvised soap opera”? Well, in the case of this second season of Sin City, it’s ten (or so) actors and actresses working without a script, around a previously devised situation. This year, the group is a ragtag bunch of crestfallen carnies in the 1930s, the members of which have been rejected and cast off by the carnival proper and left stranded with no food and a broken Jalopy in Esterhazy, Saskatchewan. With no hope of rejoining their presumably successful troupe, and no knowledge of any kind of life outside the carnival, they have to choose whether to hone their acts and try to “make their nut” in Esterhazy, or to move on to the relative Metropolis of Melville, and try their fortunes there.

The show plays with some familiar forms of improv, while moving the story along with cues by director Ian Ferguson. Most scenes have two, sometimes three performers, while the rest of the improvisers wait offstage for their next scene. Ferguson introduces the scene in the voice of an omniscient narrator and suggests the reason why those two or three characters have been put together. After that, the actors have carte blanch to explore the scene and develop their characters. Occasionally, accompanied by a piano trill from musical director/live performer Grayson Walker, the narrator will interject over the microphone, either to set up a gag, or to streamline a sketch that starts to degrade. The scene goes until Ferguson stops it with a hand-cue to the lighting director, who blacks out the stage. In this way the improvisers are given a sort of framework within which to work, but a lot of the decisions are left up to the moment, with predictably hilarious consequences.

I had a lot of fun at opening night and laughed pretty much throughout. Ferguson has assembled a talented group of improvisers that are bound to leave you in stitches. I had a chance to talk with him the day after the show. I was curious to know whether there was an overarching narrative that the show was planning to take. He told me that he and the actors leave any question about story alone, and just roll with what comes from week to week. No script means there’s no indication as to where we’ll end up with this compelling cast. In this way, the plot, such as it is, can grow organically. But, as with so much theatre, this show is about characters. “There are no plot holes,” Ferguson insisted after I poked fun at what I thought was a gaff from opening night. The story simply unfolds and the characters’ memories have as much natural unreliability as yours or mine. That being said, and in keeping with the “soap opera” genre, very little actually happened, storywise, last night. The plot revolved around the group’s interaction with the Burlesque dancer, Miss Rosie Bitts, playing herself, who, as far as I can tell, appeared as a special guest and is not slated to continue with the show. But you never know: she was a surprisingly able improviser, and her presence added some tantalizing bits of drama to the storyline that I hope the characters can work with in future segments.

As far as the cast goes, since space is limited, I’ll mention just a few. Kirsten Van Ritzen as the Serpentine Snake Lady was great. She is the group’s matriarch and perhaps the most mysterious of the bunch. Van Ritzen has clearly done some digging into her character’s past, and it shows. I like the awkward romantic situation developing between her and Dr. Thomas Brighton—the British doctor with bad teeth, played by Charlie DePape. Karen Breslford as Purdy Durvert was also excellent. She is the rejected younger sister of an acrobatic family, turned hack-hypnotist with a put-on geisha voice. Purdy’s slow wit is her charm; you just want to hug her and tell her everything’s going to be ok. Christina Patterson, who seems to be in every production in Victoria, plays Tallula Thunderbolt—the wannabe Annie Oakley sharpshooter. Because of the nature of her act, Tallula has the greatest opportunity, I think, to add to the physicality of the show. Indeed, one of the funniest moments had her riding The Stooge, played by Wes Borg, like a horse, because hers has been stolen. I should also laud Alan Penty, Chris Gabel, and Morgan Cranny with praise, but this review is beginning to overreach itself. Where does the time go?

Sin City has grown from what was by all accounts a modest beginning at the outset of last year’s season, to a successful serial with a devoted following. I recommend jumping on board with these lunatic carnies. It’s sure to be an entertaining ride.