On Valentine’s Day, I found myself watching When Prophecy Fails, a brilliant piece of physical theatre from Groupwork which reimagines the events surrounding history’s very first UFO doomsday cult—a group so certain of an impending cosmic reckoning that they prepare for their ascension aboard flying saucers.
But when the predicted end fails to materialize, they face an existential crisis, grappling with the fallout of a failed prophecy.
Groupwork is an award-winning Scottish theatre company founded by choreographer Vicki Manderson and director Finn den Hertog, known for their bold, multidisciplinary approach blending dance, theatre, and multimedia performance. Their work is visually poetic, physically dynamic, and thematically daring, developed through collaborative research and experimentation with a diverse roster of artists.
Martin and her followers, known as "The Seekers" fervently believed that the faithful amongst them would be rescued by alien spacecraft from the planet Clarion. The Seekers were so utterly convinced of the prophecy that they had quit their jobs, neglected or ended their studies, abandoned their worldly possessions, and distanced themselves from sceptical friends and family in preparation for their salvation. Festinger and his colleagues infiltrated the cult, curious as to how the group would behave when their prophecy inevitably failed.
At 11.56am on December 21, 1954, a 6.5 magnitude earthquake struck east of Eureka and Arcata, California. Edwin G. Seibels, the inventor of the vertical filing system died at the age of 88 after a brief illness. The first episode of Zoo Quest, a BBC television series featuring naturalist David Attenborough, premiered that evening. But the end of the world as we know it did not occur. Nothing happened. The world continued on as normal.
Instead of abandoning their convictions when the apocalypse didn’t eventuate, the Seekers doubled down on their beliefs, rationalising the failed prediction by declaring that their unwavering faith had actually saved the world from destruction. In fact, they interpreted this "nothing" — this conspicuous lack of tidal waves or rising floodwaters — as a sign that their mission was to proselytise even more fervently.
And thus Leon Festinger’s theory of cognitive dissonance was born. Cognitive dissonance is the mental discomfort experienced when a person’s beliefs, values, or attitudes are at odds with each other or when their behaviour contradicts their beliefs. This internal conflict creates psychological tension, leading individuals to seek resolution by altering their beliefs, rationalising their behaviour, or dismissing the inconsistency entirely.
When Prophecy Fails was utterly mesmerising. Instead of relying on a script, the performance was a tapestry of dance, music, soundscape, haunting voice overs (taken from Festinger’s text), and stylised movement. It thrummed at times with a frenetic urgency— at other times, it was gentler, even hypnotic. AV Designer and visual artist Lewis den Hertog conjured up a seamless fusion of text, music, sound, and video in his on-screen collage of space-age imagery and vintage pop records, and lightning designer Benny Goodman’s minimalist approach created a dream-like atmosphere with carefully chosen colours and a large soft flat diffuser suspended above the stage.
The set was plain and simple, with the performers — Grace Gibson, Amy Kennedy, Hope Kennedy, Samuel Pashby, and Dylan Read — decked out in vintage costumes that perfectly echoed the era’s suburban idealism. My favourite moment was a hilarious slow-motion re-creation of a social gathering in a suburban living-room, involving a cartoonishly inflated sneeze, skittish group dancing, and a delicious-looking cake shaped like a flying saucer. Trust me, you just had to be there.
But what I liked best about When Prophecy Fails was the sensitive and gentle way by which it approached the Seekers’ story. Instead of cruelly sensationalising Martin and her followers, the production examines the deeply personal connections between members of the group, and the psychological mechanisms that helped them cope when their prophecy fell apart. It’s refreshing.
I didn’t grow up waiting for flying saucers, but I did grow up believing in prophecy, in miracles, in healing hands and divine intervention. Growing up in a fundamentalist evangelical household, moving in Pentecostal circles occasionally, I encountered people shaking and laughing as the spirit moved through them, speaking in tongues, and prophesying the end of the world.
Watching When Prophecy Fails, I felt something surface— recognition and understanding. I saw my former self in the Seekers, waiting in their suburban home for salvation, only to be left standing in the cold when the sky refused to open, or when healing hands failed to cure that which was wrong with me. I recognised their frantic need to believe, to explain, to hold on. Because I, too, once held on to beliefs and miracles that never came to pass.
In a Q&A session after the performance, I asked Groupwork about their approach to researching and formulating the play. I was touched by director Finn den Hertog’s response: "Would you rather be in the living room with them or outside, sneering and laughing?" The Seekers, despite their misplaced beliefs, are portrayed as people searching for meaning and belonging.
When Prophecy Fails is an intense and intimate depiction of faith teetering on the edge, not inviting ridicule but urging empathy. It asks us to recognise ourselves in the Seekers — to understand that belief, whether in flying saucers or divine revelation — is deeply human.
— Jean Balchin is an ODT columnist who has started a new life in Edinburgh.
