So. I have no idea why I'm being vague about any of this -- dramatic effect? -- but here we go. Some years ago, I was working on a production where the director wanted to set one scene at an outdoor campfire. I could actually appreciate the aesthetic -- a campfire is a perfect setting for spookiness, and this scene did in fact contain spookiness -- but nevertheless early on one of us asked why, given the context, the scene should take place at a campfire. The director's response -- which I rather took to heart -- was effectively, "Shrug. I think it's cool." Noted.

And yet: later, when blocking another dramatic scene, I suggested two assailants entering from opposite entrances in order to converge on their quarry in dramatic fashion, I was effectively told, in kinda dismissive fashion, "That's stupid. Why would they be coming from two different places? On that side is <specific place>; on that side is <other specific place>." Noted.

So the production got reviewed, and reviews explicitly called out the confusing choice of setting that prior scene at a campfire, and there was much commentary about how the review was unfair because it included nitpicks like that. And yet I personally didn't think it was unfair, because we clearly *did* care about things like that throughout. Even if the audience couldn't entirely follow it (I never quite worked it out myself), entrances and exits were blocked according to a floor/nation plan. There were references to a greater world and world-building (that arguably didn't map 1:1 to the text, but it was there). There was, to my mind, clearly enough intention put into the setting to justify criticism where one thought it fell short.

But I did think it was a neat-looking staging of the scene, and IMO it was among the standout moments in the production. I can understand disappointment at a reviewer's disinclination to judge it in isolation vs as a component of a production where it didn't necessarily otherwise fit.

So one thing I wanted to do with Salome -- and one I think I succeeded in despite varying degrees of pushback -- was render those sorts of criticisms irrelevant, at least insofar as one was inclined to engage the project on its terms. It's perfectly fine to stage a scene at a campfire because one thinks it's cool, but then the rest of the production needs to somehow follow suit? Unless one doesn't mind the criticism, that is, in which case it doesn't matter.

As I was previewing the back wall aesthetic by taping up and rearranging a few shapes cut from craft foam, I was met with the question, "Why would a king's terrace look like that??" And I was like...? Why are these characters throwing out reference after reference after reference from 1990s media despite ostensibly living in ~30 CE Judaea? Why do so many of them look like characters from 90s properties? Why is Jokanaan's beheading accompanied by the sound of scattering rings and a death bloop? (That's actually a pretty good question with a pretty good sound cue answer, which I insisted upon keeping despite the admitted discordance between the sound and the moment. That joke's part of the original structure and commitment was the name of the game.) I was also asked rather disdainfully why I was so insistent upon having "CHA" on the moon. Because the 90s and 90s references and 90s vibe, the end. But I'd always imagined this play as effectively taking place not necessarily "in the 90s" but rather in a dimension ruled by a 90s-obsessed demon, because I wanted an approach that centered the decade while also effectively insulating the play from at least certain flavors of criticism. If you're not on board, you're not on board -- but if you're on board, then you're at least not worried about *that*, y'know? And even before the show started, I wanted the set to set the tone.
(I mean, okay, there were definitely things I snuck in that could be evaluated independently of 90s tropes, but even there I'm probably prepared to make a case for them being at least tangentially 90s related.)

And yeah, that sort of approach to setting -- or classics, or theatre -- isn't for everyone. Heck, a good tell's been the extent to which someone has been inclined to mention the gimmicked ladder bit: seemingly as a rule, anyone who's praised that has been on board with very little else about the production. Which makes sense, in a way -- it's ultimately for people who need to feel like the set and show exist in "real" space, like there really is a deep well and not level ground. I'm just glad that the concept was so ingrained in the approach that the show didn't get overwhelmed with those more "realistic" elements and concerns, such that I never grew to regard "Why would a king's terrace look like that?" as a legitimate question.