By Darren O’Donnell. Directed by Chris Abraham. Produced by Crow’s Theatre in association with Mammalian Diving Reflex. At the Waterfront Theatre on Friday, June 6, as part of the Magnetic North Theatre Festival. No remaining performances

You’ve probably never seen anything like [boxhead]—unless you’ve done a lot of acid.

Darren O’Donnell’s supremely weird script tells the story of a young geneticist who wakes up one morning to find a cardboard box secured to his head. His attempts to remove it fail, but he manages to replicate his DNA and produce a doppelgí¤nger doctor. Their actions are narrated by a disembodied voice that may or may not be a god.

That synopsis doesn’t begin to communicate the complex texture and frequent hilarity of O’Donnell’s text. The humour comes from his irreverent juxtaposition of conventional, even banal, ideas and statements about relationships, faith, and identity (and yes, theatre) with his absurdist, sci-fi premise, leading to lines like, “No one’s gonna let a disembodied voice help raise their baby!” When the two doctors (inevitably?) fall in love, they kiss by pressing their boxes together. “Take me home,” cries one, “and make me rrrrectangular!” Later, the same lovestruck doctor breaks into a wistful rock ballad that opens, “There’s a box on his head.” It’s stupid, it’s clichéd, and it’s very funny.

The play is not for the faint of heart: the dialogue is dense, the voices are electronically distorted, and we never see any faces. Director Chris Abraham’s assault on the senses is ably supported by Ed Reifel’s live musical accompaniment (mostly percussion), Steve Lucas’s whip-smart lighting, and heroic performances from Adam Lazarus and Andrew Shaver. For the theatrically adventurous, it’s one hell of a trip.