Play Review: Just Add Water

Just Add Water
Plan-B Theatre Company
October 2-19, 2025

What would we be without the Great Salt Lake? For starters, this publication would just be called “UG Magazine.” They’d probably have to rename our capital city “Toxic Dust City.” More seriously, the death of the Great Salt Lake would mean a devastating public health crisis, an ecological collapse that would impact millions of migrating birds and billions of dollars of economic damage. Matthew Ivan Bennett and Elaine Jarvik’s Just Add Water educates its audience on this reality, albeit with a fantastical, lighthearted twist.

The cli-fi (like sci-fi, but “climate fiction”) dramedy opens with Great Salt Lake (Latoya Cameron) in deep sleep until she is awoken by an ancient force. To her surprise, the ancient sea spirit has been summoned to human form by The Mountains. Don’t worry, though, she’s not alone — a personified brine shrimp named Brien (Amona Faatau) is to be her trusty companion as they venture into the city.

“Why would I go there?” Great Salt Lake protests. “I’m almost forgotten there. Nobody wants me there.” But Brien insists that The Mountains have called for her because she needs help. Great Salt Lake reluctantly agrees, and the pair set off to hitchhike into Salt Lake City.

Layers of billowing cream curtains hanging from the tall ceiling act as the play’s only set, but they’re creatively utilized. As Great Salt Lake and Brien disappear exit stage right, Alec Kalled and Isabella Reeder emerge from behind them. As the production’s only other cast members, the two switch costume pieces frequently as their roles change. At times, they wear white stockings over their arms to represent tundra swans. Occasionally, one will pick up a golf club spray painted white acting as a crane, while the other flaps a white three-ring binder reminiscent of a seagull. 

In their first speaking scene, however, Kalled and Reeder are bar-goers at an open mic night. Brien ushers Great Salt Lake into the spotlight, where Cameron proves her performance’s value by delivering a powerful monologue that almost makes you forget she’s not actually an ancient nature spirit. She bellows: “You depend on me. If Homo sapiens disappeared, I would not disappear. I would thrive. But if I disappeared, it would hurt you. It would cost you billions in your paper money. You. Depend. On. Me. And that seems to have engendered not gratitude, but hostility.”

The speech catches the attention of a journalist (Reeder), who Great Salt Lake promptly recruits to the cause. After interviewing a scientist (Kalled), the group confronts the devastating fact: The Western Hemisphere’s largest saltwater lake is at dangerously low levels and continues to lose more to evaporation than it gains in river flow and precipitation. The journalist tries to keep up as the scientist shares more disheartening information, but her hand begins to cramp. Horrified, Great Salt Lake flees.

The rest of the performance continues in the same format it began: altering between scenes of Great Salt Lake’s journey and interludes of eerie dust storm chorus, satirical character segments and even some cheese-inspired slam poetry. However, the plot reaches a head when Great Salt Lake decides it’s time to take matters into her own hands and lobby at the Utah State Capitol. She finds Mr. Representative (Kalled again) and demands money, policies and commitments. He considers, nods and then… breaks out in song as he writes a resolution declaring Great Salt Lake “freed from strife.”

If only it were that simple. 

Spoiler alert: The play has no fairy tale finale. There is no magic wand that offers its audience a reality where the lake is not in imminent danger. But it doesn’t end without hope. A final interlude leaves the audience with the good news: Scientists are studying the dust, and pelicans are returning to Gunnison Island. Majesty, Utah is investing in agricultural optimization, and the state has a “strategic plan.” And most important of all, some people are trying. Great Salt Lake returns to her lake form, with a little more hope than before.

In the end, Just Add Water blends activism with just the right amount of humor to leave its audience inspired to do more. The digital playbill even includes a study guide with more information about the lake and ways to help. For awareness alone, I believe it’s well worth the watch. It may be under-resourced, foreboding and at times a bit uncomfortable — but hey, isn’t that fitting for a play about the Great Salt Lake?  

Tickets are sold out for Just Add Water at The Studio Theatre at Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center, but you can add yourself to the waitlist at saltlakecountyarts.org/events/just-add-water.

Read about more local performances here: 
SLC PUNKS: DIY Festival Performer
Odyssey Dance Theatre’s Thriller Returns With New and Old Haunts