At ArtsEmerson, 'Mrs. Krishnan's Party' is hard to resist

When I stood in line for the ArtsEmerson production of the intriguingly original “Mrs. Krishnan’s Party” (showing through April 7), the experience conjured up the winding queues for nightclubs I used to wait in when I was in college. The crowd moved slowly like a herd getting ushered into a gated area not yet seen. Since the show is dubbed an immersive party, I figured the seating arrangement had something to do with it.

The word “wallflower” was printed on my ticket. There are multiple ticket types determining how close to the action you are and imply your willingness to participate in the show. When the door opened, I was greeted by a joyful DJ named James decked out in a gold-colored cloth headdress, a gold top with tassels and emerald flowing pants. He told the other wallflowers I’d join them for the fun as I settled in the back row.

Here’s the premise: DJ James (Justin Rogers) is throwing a surprise party in the back of a convenience store owned by his landlord Mrs. Krishnan. It’s Onam, a Hindu festival celebrating the rice harvest, and we, the showgoers, are James’s mates.

The cast of the show from Indian Ink Theatre Company traveled from New Zealand to put on this revelry-centered show that begs audiences to forget their troubles at the door and uses storytelling and cooking to entice. Between the dialogue and purposefully corny jokes, James donned aviator glasses and played music on his computer from an elevated platform. He talked about the party, why he’s throwing it, and shared a little about his life.

It’s not often that an audience is immersed in a theater production like this. Written by Indian Ink co-founders Jacob Rajan and Justin Lewis, the narrative has found a way to include every showgoer, even those who weren’t keen to join in. It’s a choose-your-level kind of immersion that started with the seating. Then, there were chiffon-like scarves in magenta, green, red and yellow to wear, balloons to blow up, invitations to dance, and if one was so inclined, you could talk to the cast members and answer their questions. They worked guests’ comments right into the scene.

Both actors, Rogers’ James and Kalyani Nagarajan’s Mrs. Krishnan, are quite adept at improv. They’ve been performing this show for a while and they don’t forget an audience member’s name or the details shared. And, when it was time to use it in an authentic way, they did so. For instance, two reluctant audience members who didn’t come together and shared that they were single, were later called to the stage and got a chance to add fragrant spices to a simmering dahl while James played “Close to You” by the Carpenters. They rested their heads together briefly while the audience sang along and laughed.

Nagarajan’s entrance as Mrs. Krishnan was a bit of an explosion. She was expressive, loud and anxious. She walked and talked quickly. (It was hard to make out what she was saying, at times.) The tightly wound store owner is a widow, a mom and a landlord who spends much of her time thinking of others and grieving. Her store, crowded with boxes of supplies, has framed photos of her son Apu and her late husband, Mr. Krishnan, whose ashes she keeps close in the store. Mr. Krishnan, whose name was Gobi, dragged Mrs. Krishnan from India to Auckland, New Zealand to open their corner dairy. She mentioned their backstory in “Mrs. Krishnan’s Party,” but their love story took center stage in the theater company’s earlier play “Krishnan's Dairy,” which premiered in 1997.

In the show at ArtsEmerson, Mrs. Krishnan takes care of James. She makes him lunch while he attends university, and he keeps her company. At first, she’s annoyed that James has surprised her with a crowded shop full of people eager to party and exclaimed, “This is [a] convenience store, not disco!” Later, she relents, cooking rice and dahl, and ensures the party is memorable.

Like all of us, Mrs. Krishnan and James have their own battles. Her son is always working, and it seems like she doesn’t get to see him often. She’s lonely without her husband and wondering what her next steps are. She’s contemplating selling the store and going back to India. James is having a tough time in school and isn’t clear which direction he’s moving in either. What did seem evident is that they have each other and as James tells her: life isn’t all about ashes. Loss and difficulty can certainly shape one’s existence, but so do joy and victory.

The skeptical wallflower in me wasn’t sure if an experience like this would feel authentic. And while this show didn’t offer a ton of flowery dialogue, it did offer space for everyone to have a little fun. And, after a while, the pull of James and Mrs. Krishnan’s optimism won me over and I found myself laughing at the slap-stick comedy as I picked up a scarf to wrap around my arms and surrendered to the party.

“Mrs. Krishnan’s Party” shows through April 7 at the Jackie Liebergott Black Box Theatre, located in ArtsEmerson’s Paramount Center. After the show, audience members can stick around for a post-show party with food.