Remember when voting was fun?

Frankly, I didn’t, either—until I settled into my Power Center seat on Wednesday night to see Belgian theater company Ontroerend Goed’s Fight Night, presented by the University Musical Society.

Before the show, in the lobby, ushers distributed tiny digital voting machines (attached to neckstraps) to each audience member, and the first two people we saw on stage were two tech guys who man laptops that report, on two raised screens, vote tallies throughout the evening.

And there were many.

But to warm us up, wry emcee (and Fight Night co-writer) Angelo Tijssens, dressed in a neutral plaid suit, cajoled us into participating in some basic surveys, both to get us comfortable working the devices and to provide crucial intel to the evening’s five “candidates.”

For what office, exactly? It’s never clear, and it doesn’t matter. Pretty immediately, we’re asked to choose a candidate with no information. By default, then, we must select our initial champion by way of our own racial, gender, and body/age biases, or by our mindful resistance to those biases.

See? Right from the get-go, things get tricky.

And even as the 90-minute show (co-written and directed by Alexander Debriendt) progresses, and we hear more from the candidates—not about political issues, but rather themselves and their take on both the potential and limits of democratic systems—we find ourselves repeatedly pulled in different directions. 

Thus, with just a sparse set consisting of a boxing ring (without ropes), a few lecterns, a drop-down mic, and a couple of screens and laptops, Fight Night transforms what initially feels like a light, cheeky party game into a check-in on the dog whistles we each individually respond to.

Under normal circumstances, of course, that kind of self-assessment would be a sobering exercise. Still, with so much wit and playfulness injected into Fight Night’s surveys and elections, it’s like getting your vegetables by way of a sweet, tasty smoothie.

Indeed, voting became so easy and habitual during the show that at one point on Wednesday night, with only “yes” or “no” responses posted on the screens, 20 people answered before even knowing the question.

“Those were probably the ‘spiritual’ people,” Tijssens quipped, referring to the outcome of an earlier survey. “They just knew what the question was going to be.”

Often, the survey results—including, “Do you trust this audience?”—were surprising, and as we all processed more and more info about not just the candidates, but the voters sitting next to us, the night began to feel like a twisty, psychological puzzle to solve. 

It’s no spoiler to share that in spite of this, Fight Night has no “right” answer, and I greatly admired the show’s ability to bend and adapt to whatever the audience might unpredictably throw into the mix. For in a quintessentially Ann Arbor turn of events, no small number of people—for reasons I won’t get into—remained seated on the stage by the show’s end Wednesday night.

That’s one thing I love and value about many theatrical productions that UMS brings to town. Generally, after I take my seat, I never quite know where I’m headed. 

And like Fight Night, that can often be the best kind of “wake-up call.”

Jenn McKee is a former staff arts reporter for The Ann Arbor News, where she primarily covered theater and film events, and also wrote general features and occasional articles on books and music.

"Fight Night" is at the Power Center, 121 Fletcher Street, Ann Arbor, through Sunday, September 29. Visit ums.org for tickets, showtimes, and more info.