The Dreamlike Refuge of Michael John Ciszewski’s “The Sun is Sleeping”

The Boston-based actor’s second solo show boldly weaves through cinematic vignettes to seek introspective clarity from the realm of sleep

Remember the moment just a few months ago, when mandated isolation rules were being imposed as the worldwide pandemic quickly ramped up in its severity and the most optimistic of our friends, family, and influencers took to social media to put on a brave face for the rest of us? “Now is the time to write your novel, learn a new trade or skill, read more, write more, love more,” they’d say. Sounds easy enough to sit down, open a laptop, and get started fleshing out the world of ideas inside your head. But the comfort of a couch and pajamas and the allure of television and social media have proven too intoxicating for all of us at one point or another — turning off our brains for another hour or five is far easier than allowing ourselves to be vulnerable enough to tap into emotion and art when our day to day is especially ridden with such unprecedented strife.

Art being made within the confines of a pandemic has, so far, struggled to strike the right chord — there’s an incredibly thin line between poignant and poorly-made. On one hand, there are projects like Charli XCX’s how i’m feeling now, an album started, finished, and released within six weeks, to fantastic reviews which praised the singer’s candor. It’s indelible, the kind of art that’s enriched by the moment but won’t lose any of its intrinsic meaning as time goes on. On the other hand, there are things like Love in the Time of Corona, Freeform’s bungling, insensitive miniseries, which lacked any depth or perspective due to its scramble to production and attempt to appeal to those questioning their place in a time that no one could have predicted. Perhaps the secret to engaging and true quarantine-made art is honesty, not trying to pontificate or postulate on the state of humanity or the world of politics, but rather to reflect on ourselves: past, present, and future.

Michael John Ciszewski, the Boston-based actor whose solo art productions have ruminated on the fragility of life and the endless journey to personal enlightenment, understands this. His first show, Everyone is Dying and So Am I, “a celebration of living out loud in the face of certain death,” was a reflection on Ciszewski’s experiences following major personal losses and national political anxiety. The show completed its initial workshops and debut late last year, with plans for expansion and an extended 2020 run that would’ve begun last spring. The show, like every other event planned past March, was canceled, and Ciszewski had to pick up the pieces and figure out exactly what to do next. With theater and all of his typical havens for release completely shut down, Ciszewski stayed home, falling back into the reliable arms of his longtime companion: pop music. After weeks spent finding his emotional footing and mining inspiration from Charli XCX’s album and creative spirit as well as the works of some of his favorite artists like Lady Gaga, Perfume Genius, Beck, and Beyoncé, Ciszewski began to write again.

Now, he’s debuting his second solo project: The Sun is Sleeping. The show is a sort of a cross between a visual album and a remarkably ambitious theatrical production — a sixty-minute film consisting of completely original work written, filmed, and edited entirely by Ciszewski in quarantine and boasting collaborations from several friends and industry peers. The result is a bold production, a wholly singular piece that resonates on multiple levels through its sequence of dreamlike vignettes. Together with his fellow actors, Ciszewski ponders his place in the current global moment but doesn’t dwell. Instead, he allows viewers glimpses into characters as they navigate their way through it, informed by their relationships to themselves and their bodies, partners, dreams, and substances of choice.

The film weaves through several dreams that depict the realities of what might happen when the sun rises again. Each dream is tinged with truth and authenticity while still feeling distinctly like images created by the mind of an unconscious being. “Paper Moons” flashes between night and day, tracking its narrator’s journey with alcohol as they recall details both vague and specific from a night out. Like any dream, it’s hard to know if it’s accurate. Are these experiences true? Or are they half-truths, with memories being infiltrated by lyrics from a song the dreamer listened to one too many times that day — in this case, the spoken parts of producer SOPHIE’s remix of Sonikku’s “Sweat” seem to be creeping into the subconsciousness. “Foolish Love” sees its narrator lying in the grass, trying to remember the name of an angel who continues to visit him in his sleep. “The System Only Dreams in Total Darkness” almost leans into realistic personal nightmare territory, with the dream of a Zoom call between a sleep specialist (Teresa Langford) and their client tumbling into an awkward discussion of dreams, digestion supplements, and release of all kinds — like the pandemic-anxiety induced version of dreaming of public speaking in your underwear. “Sunday Sun” and “Whole Life” allow their solo actors (Steven Maier and Regine Vital, respectively) to give affecting and genuine performances, the former reflecting on the dread of a looming calendar week and the latter a discussion of sleep and the life we live between it from the confines of our bedroom. “Staring at the Sun” sees a couple (Pier Lamia Porter and Rachel Belleman) separated by distance but trying to find connection under the same sun.

The show’s vignettes are divided by poetic interstitials, monologues delivered by a would-be Sun Prince played by Ciszewski, who ponders life and living, sleep and waking, time and the ever-shrinking amount of it that we all have left. These scenes are a stellar showcase for Ciszewski’s abilities as both an actor and a writer, proving that he’s capable of work that glides across the emotional spectrum. But each of the actors featured in The Sun is Sleeping are here to work, with performances that range from delightfully uncomfortable (Langford’s regretful sleep specialist Lindsay) to achingly lived-in and relatable (Regine Vital’s Marie). Even the voice acting sprinkled throughout the film feels genuinely dreamlike, with each actor delivering layered lines with a specific affectation different than the one before.

Though The Sun is Sleeping can stand on its own as a film, the experience is truly complete when aided by its post-show engagement. It’s this time that allows the project to really feel like a work of independent theater, a chance for its audience to meet with the show’s creator on Zoom, and ask questions about his inspirations and process. Ciszewski and his partner Brian Dudley have created an interactive experience that’s fully planned out from start to finish, from the show’s title card and curated playlist (that genuinely feel like the virtual version of waiting for the lights to dim and the curtain to part) to the post-show Q&A and amusing discussion of sleep wellness, complete with props. In a time when there’s no opportunity to stumble onto a theater hosting works by emerging artists, this kind of chance to connect with writers, actors, and fellow theatergoers is not only welcome but incredibly valuable.

The Sun is Sleeping’s greatest asset may be that it was forged from time of global reckoning — after all, it wouldn’t exist without a pandemic. But unlike novels that were abandoned by May and miniseries cobbled together in weeks, it succeeds because it doesn’t try to speak to a moment but rather internalize it, spilling it out in dream form, unfurling emotions into confessional pieces that can transcend the period they were written in. Like the works that inspired it, Michael John Ciszewski’s second solo project works equally as well with or without the context of its time, exactly as it should — the worlds we enter during dreams are free from the confines of linear time, memories of the past and visions of the future are filled with total strangers we seem to know like lifelong friends, clouding our minds while our body resets itself. While the sun sleeps we’re gifted with dreams, and though their contents are as uncertain as the waking world, there’s a chance to find solace in ourselves each time we close our eyes.

[The Sun is Sleeping screens with post-show engagement on Wednesday, October 7th, and Sunday, October 11th — tickets start at $5 with a suggested donation of $12 and can be purchased here. All collaborators involved with the project were paid a one-time stipend and will receive residuals from the shows proceeds.]