Stage Review - A Klingon Christmas Carol (Latitude Theatre)
Stage Review - A Klingon Christmas Carol
Presented By: Latitude Theatre - Seattle, WA
Show Run: December 04 - December 28, 2025
Date Reviewed: Thursday, December 4, 2025 (Opening Night)
Run Time: 2 Hours (including a 15-minute intermission)
Reviewed By: Greg Heilman
It’s cliche to be sure, but there may be no story produced more frequently during the holiday season than Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, and after seeing so many versions, adaptations, and derivitives —four of them this week alone—it’s rare that something feels genuinely new or unique. But Latitude Theatre’s A Klingon Christmas Carol, written by Christopher Kidder-Möstrom and Sasha Warren and directed by Christopher, running at Theatre Puget Sound’s Center Theater at Seattle Center through December 28, is a reminder that a tale as familiar as this one still has some mileage left in it when it comes to adapting it or, in this case, translating it. This production doesn’t simply place Dickens into a science-fiction setting; it commits entirely to Klingon culture, language, and worldview, transforming the story into something at once recognizable and utterly alien. Even for those who know only a few phrases of tlhIngan Hol, the result is unexpectedly engrossing. For those fluent in Star Trek lore, it’s a feast.
First, a bit of context around the language. Klingon—tlhIngan Hol—was formalized by linguist Marc Okrand for the film Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, expanding on the guttural, angular sounds originally created by James “Scotty” Doohan. Designed to feel unmistakably non-human, the language is filled with hard consonants, abrupt syntax, and a forcefulness that resists the natural flow of Romance languages or the rhythmic lyricism of Shakespeare. In his opening night curtain speech, Christopher described Klingon as “spitty,” and the cast’s work confirms it. And while performing an entire show in Klingon can make the dialogue feel deliberate in its delivery and slow in the action’s pacing, doing so isn’t just ambitious—it’s heroic.
Latitude’s adaptation assumes the audience knows the Dickens story well enough that it doesn’t need to retell it beat by beat. Instead, it uses the framework of A Christmas Carol as scaffolding for a fully realized Klingon cultural experience. The humor comes not only from moments within the script but from the incongruity of watching a culture built on honor, combat, and loud proclamations navigate a story traditionally rooted in gentleness and sentiment. The subtitles become part of the comedy as well, capturing long roars of Klingon speech with a minimalist one- or two-word translation, echoing that sly foreign-film humor.
The first spark of delight arrives with Stefanie MeiFang van Rafelghem’s Vulcan narrator, who immediately sets the tone. She has mastered the Vulcan method of delivery: calm, logical, and entirely unamused by anything illogical—of which, in Klingon society, there is plenty. She pronounces every Klingon word with impeccable precision while keeping an unwaveringly straight face, making her small gestures, such as a perfectly measured eyebrow raise, even funnier. It’s that classic Star Trek humor—Spock logic meeting Klingon bombast—and Stefanie nails it.
As SQuja’ (Scrooge), Alexei Sebastian Cifrese brings a compelling mixture of physicality and insecurity. Scrooge here isn’t as physically imposing as the other Klingons; his past reveals him as more intellectual than warrior, someone who has relied on strategy rather than strength. It’s clear early on that if he doesn’t alter his path, he is headed straight into the same dishonorable afterlife as Marley—the coward’s path, condemned to fight forever without ever completing a single battle. Alexei leans into this contrast beautifully, allowing Scrooge’s transformation to feel not only emotional but existential.
Bjorn Anderson’s Marley (marlI’) reinforces that dread. Reimagined as a disgraced warrior cursed to eternal combat, he delivers a performance that embodies both the ferocity and tragic futility of his fate. His appearance is one of the production’s strongest adaptations of the original Dickensian concept. Among the spirits, ML Earhart’s Ghost of Christmas Present provides a flamboyant burst of energy and joy, a sharp and welcome contrast to the darker edges of the story. Among the rest of the large ensemble, all with unpronounceable names (at least for me), are all thoroughly bought into their Klingon characters, which I see as a requirement to even be a part of this show. Learning how to speak and act in an entirely new, non-human language requires a great degree of dedication, and I’m sure was something not taken lightly by anyone associated with this play.
Much of the production’s rhythm is shaped by the language itself. Klingon’s deliberate pacing gives the dialogue and movement a grounded heaviness that matches the species’ well-known physicality. Even the fight scenes feel intentionally methodical, emphasizing power over agility—a choice that aligns with the ethos of the culture. One moment does interrupt this otherwise well-crafted flow: the time-travel effect used by the Ghost of Christmas Past pauses while set pieces are changed, breaking what could be a seamless transition. Letting that effect continue through the scene shift would better preserve the momentum.
Other than that one callout, the design aspects all work , and the team deserves enormous credit for bringing this world to life. Costume Designer Kilah Williams and Prosthetic Designer Bill Hedrick provide some of the production’s most striking visuals, transforming the cast into convincingly fearsome Klingon warriors. The Vulcan narrator’s bold costume stands out immediately—sleek, ceremonial, and unmistakably Vulcan, honoring the lineage of predecessors from Spock to T’Pol in its clean lines and dignified restraint. The Ghost of Christmas Present, by contrast, bursts onto the stage in a look that is gloriously big and bright, matching the character’s flamboyant energy and infectious spirit. Gwyn Skone’s lighting design and Lillie Wirth’s sound design deepen the supernatural and combative energy of the production, giving the spirit visitations their mystery and the battle sequences their visceral intensity. The language work, guided by Rachel Andeen and Language Captain James Lyle, stands out as one of the most impressive technical achievements of the evening, giving the actors clarity, power, and surprising emotional nuance in their Klingon delivery. The subtitles, handled with precision and humor, act not only as a translation tool but as an additional comedic voice in the room.
Latitude’s mission to bring translated and culturally specific adaptations of classic stories to the stage is boldly realized here. A Klingon Christmas Carol is not a parody, nor is it a novelty piece (though some may view it as such)—it’s a serious, committed reinterpretation that celebrates the Klingon culture without compromising the original Christmas Carol too much. Out of the many Christmas Carols circulating this season, this one stands alone. Or, more appropriately, it stands ghuS (I think that’s right)—ready, braced, and fiercely itself.
The Latitude Theatre production of A Klingon Christmas Carol runs on stage at the TPS Center Theatre at the Seattle Center Armory through December 28. For more information, including ticket availability and sales, visit https://latitudetheatre.org/index.html.
Photo credit: Wade Atkinson
