I’m sure most fans of Ian Case’s past community theatre work will agree: “Welcome back!” His signature style on crafting fun Halloween-style shows with David Elendune, another local producer, shows how pulpy things can get, and High Moon, A Werewolf Western is a wonderful return to form. Together, they represent the next evolution in installation theatre—one that perhaps belongs outdoors rather than indoors.
Of course, with Garden City’s notoriously fickle weather, we must take such hopes with a grain of salt. The opening night enjoyed clear skies (sadly, the Harvest lunar event occurred on October 7), but the air was cool enough to carry every echo. Within the darkened corners of Heritage Acres in North Saanich, the stage was perfect for their werewolf western.
When every member of the cast and crew is invested in setting the mood, it shows—they caught that intangible magic between setting and story. From the narrator to the immersive world itself, I was drawn in completely.
Billy (Ryan Kniel) returns home to find much of it in ruin. His brother, James (Rod Peter Jr., pictured center) does his best to keep the homestead alive. After their parents’ passing, old memories cling like dust in the rafters. Both men are haunted—by grief, guilt, and the ghosts of old ideals. While the elder clings to the South’s faded glory, the younger looks toward reinvention.
Their journey winds through the prairie’s moral twilight, with a well-dressed bounty hunter (Rosemary Jeffery, pictured left) serving as guide.
Kniel shines as a character actor, and though the dialogue gets over the top, he fully embraces it. He begins his journey as a war veteran who wants to relive the traditions of the South, while something else calls to him. Although the detail of where he found the talisman that warped his mind isn’t clearly stated, that’s okay. When he offers it to the local witch-lady, Madame Grey (Wendy Magahay, pictured right, clearly relishing the role), thinking he can earn some good money, that’s when the story starts to bare its fangs!
The amulet is an evil device, and from here, the legend takes root. Billy doesn’t believe in hocus pocus, but once blood touches it, his descent into madness unspools like a fever dream—he becomes part of it rather than trying to discard it. I must admit, I was eager to learn more about its lore. Like a good cinematic tale, that revelation comes later, and I could picture it as vividly as the creation of the One Ring in Lord of the Rings.
The brothers clash more than once, and their fellowship dissolves under the weight of old grievances. To say more would spoil the pulse-quickening second act and climax, but it’s safe to say every performer fires on all cylinders in this pulp-styled tribute to the wild west. Beneath its gun smoke and growls, the play explores isolation, legacy, and what it means to tame a forbidden frontier.
The story’s subtle nods reminded me of Forever Knight, leaving a lingering question: will Billy accept his fate or find a way to undo it? The Weird West is a genre too seldom seen on stage, and knowing this production was built by locals for locals made me grin from ear to ear.
Final Thoughts on High Moon
This isn’t a show built on spectacle, but on sensation. The sound of crickets—both real and conjured—rose and fell like breath. Somewhere, the twang of an old guitar threaded through the dark. Shadows stretched across the open field, and if you weren’t careful, you might swear something unseen moved just behind you. And when the place carries anecdotal whispers of lingering memories, the nights aren’t always just eerily chilly.
That’s the beauty of outdoor performances. Some places like this one contain a gentle haunting, not born of fear but of memory. Here, light, sound, and story interlace until the line between past and present grows thin enough to step across.
5 Fangs out of 5
One reason I love 
By Ed Sum
By Ed Sum