Anne Imhof’s Armory Performance Criticized as a Poorly Executed Balenciaga-Inspired Display
# Anne Imhof’s *Doom: House of Hope* — A Hollow Portrait of Gen-Z Angst
Anne Imhof’s three-hour performance, *Doom: House of Hope*, currently staged at the Park Avenue Armory in Manhattan, is being met with mixed reviews. The performance, curated by Klaus Biesenbach, has been praised for its visually striking aesthetics and atmospheric tension. However, critics argue that beneath its high-art façade, it falls short as a meaningful critique of contemporary issues, failing to capture the essence of Gen-Z’s active political engagement.
## **A Dystopian Prom Night**
*Doom: House of Hope* presents a Gen-Z reimagining of *Romeo and Juliet*, set against the backdrop of a high school prom night. The grand spectacle unfolds under a massive jumbotron displaying a ticking doomsday clock, a fitting symbol for today’s heightened anxieties over climate change, social injustices, and political turbulence.
The performance begins ominously with young performers weaving through the audience, chanting:
> “We hope, we’re doomed. We’re fucked, we’re dead, I think I made you up inside my head.”
The tone oscillates between a school play filled with theatrical angst and a Berlin-style underground rave. Figures with glazed expressions smoke from vapes, lounge on slick black Cadillac SUVs, and get impromptu tattoos, embodying a disaffected youth searching for purpose in an apocalyptic landscape.
## **Style Over Substance?**
Despite its dark and brooding aesthetic, much of *Doom: House of Hope* feels performative in a way that is more fashion-driven than politically pointed. The cast—many of whom have backgrounds in modeling—appear to be more invested in striking photogenic poses rather than physically engaging with the performance’s themes.
While the work flirts with activism, its social commentary lacks depth. Performers hold torn cardboard signs with phrases like:
> “Help me, I’m trans”
> “Don’t touch my tits”
These statements, while referencing real social struggles, are presented without context or further critical engagement. As a result, the performance risks reducing activism to an aesthetic rather than addressing the lived realities of marginalized communities.
## **A Missed Opportunity?**
Imhof, a former nightclub bouncer with a sharp eye for underground counterculture, thrives on her “cool factor.” She captured the art world’s attention with her 2017 Venice Biennale piece, *Faust*, which won the Golden Lion award. That work, featuring doberman pincers prowling beneath raised glass floors while chic, pale performers paced above, had a distinct unsettling aura that resonated with themes of surveillance, technology, and control.
However, in *Doom: House of Hope*, her signature aesthetic begins to feel less authentic. Instead of offering a call to action, the performance plays out like a high-fashion editorial shoot, with moments that feel more curated for Instagram than for deeper reflection. Even the distressed body language and rebel poses seem carefully constructed to maintain an aura of apathy rather than outrage.
## **Gen-Z: More Than Just Pessimism**
Throughout the performance, the cast repeatedly laments their lack of power:
> “We hope, we’re doomed.”
But this sentiment does not accurately reflect the dynamism of today’s Gen-Z activists. Far from being passive, younger generations are at the forefront of political activism, fighting for climate justice, LGBTQ+ rights, and systemic change. Groups like Fridays for Future, March for Our Lives, and numerous grassroots movements worldwide show that today’s youth are not just mourning a broken world—they are actively shaping its future.
Thus, while *Doom: House of Hope* attempts to tap into the collective anxiety of Gen-Z, it ultimately fails to capture their resilience and agency. What could have been a powerful indictment of capitalist destruction and systemic oppression instead comes across as a luxurious, nihilistic fantasy.
## **Final Thoughts: When Art Becomes a Spectacle of Itself**
On opening night, the audience—comprised of influential figures from the art world—stood for three hours, watching the performance unfold. By the second hour, many were visibly disengaged, yawning, and zoning out, their own detached expressions mirroring those of the performers.
Perhaps *Doom: House of Hope* unintentionally reveals more about the spectators than the performers. At a time when meaningful activism is more crucial than ever, should we really be standing idly in dimly lit art halls observing fabricated rebellion? Or should we be out in the real world, participating in movements that effect real change?
It is not hope that is doomed—it is the illusion that aesthetics alone can replace action.