As we bid farewell to the 2010’s we look back one last time at the decade behind us, which saw the Immersive Renaissance begin in earnest. What was once a niche — the provenance of experimental theatre makers and researchers in media labs — became a buzzword.
Still misappropriated and misunderstood, “immersive” as a term retains an allure that audiences and creators alike keep circling back to. Underneath the buzz and hype it carries with it the promise of getting so lost in another world that you find something realer than real. A hidden Truth, complete with the capital T.
What follows are the moments that defined the decade for part of the NoPro team. For this piece, a companion of sorts to our 2019 Moments and Experiences lists, we’ve arranged this alphabetically by author. — Noah Nelson, publisher
Kevin Gossett, LA Reviews Editor
Isolating a specific moment in a decade of anything as the moment is stupid hard. Finding that moment in the decade you were introduced to a thing is maybe even harder. How do I distill down three years and change of what immersive theatre meant to me? I’m not entirely sure.
So, let’s talk through it. This year, a number of experiences left an impression, chief among them Katabasis, Escape from Godot, and Galaxy’s Edge. While all excellent, only Galaxy’s Edge has true moment to speak of that would help define this decade for me. I’ll throw it on the pile.
Let’s hop back to 2018 where I’ve actually got four pieces that really stand out in my mind, Rochester, 1996, Creep: Awake, In Another Room 2, and Theatre Macabre. Each has a moment that I can pinpoint as being great: the shift in format for Rochester, 1996, the Salesman from Awake, and ending up performing at Theatre Macabre. Rochester and Theatre Macabre both felt like a formula shift for immersive that tried to push the medium forward and continue to resonate with me; In Another Room 2 was maybe one of the most front-to-back comprehensive pieces I’ve ever seen. Into the pile they go.
There were shows I liked, in 2017, but none that really help define this, which means we’re going back to 2016, which is just three heavyweights. The Tension Experience: Ascension, Sleep No More, and Then She Fell. Each of these shows felt like a moment in and of themselves, but if I had to boil it down to one for each, I would say it’s the moment you put the hood on in Tension, the final banquet in Sleep No More, my final scene in Then She Fell. Put ’em in the pile. (I’ve already blown past the three paragraph prompt for this, but this graf itself could be a much longer essay.)
But really, what else could define this decade where I discovered immersive theatre more than the first show I saw? And that would be Then She Fell. The show is near perfect and does so many immersive things right by mixing small group and solo scenes across an incredibly cool venue while also including some thematic goodness to dig into after it’s over (among so many other things). The moment that hooked me for good though, was the last one. I watched Alice flit through and over a pile of school desks, finding pieces of a note that she dropped in front of me before leaving me with a cup of tea and a few minutes to myself. What made it work so well was that it allowed time to contemplate the show while still inside of it, which helped etch the gorgeous sequence firmly in my mind.
Michaela Holland, NYC Social Media Correspondent
In November of 2013, a woman offered me a Disney Cruise Line contract during an audition for Disneyland Paris. From the moment that nine-month experience began, my viewpoint of the world and knowledge of guest experience has never been the same. At nineteen years old, I took a leave of absence from my college education, and spent two months rehearsing in Canada, before living on a cruise ship for seven months of my life, and then just making it back in time to begin school again in the Fall of 2014. Almost a year spent performing, being involved with the guest operation, crew events/activities, meeting and working with people from all over the world, and learning about myself and working with a team to create a fully immersive/interactive experience.
Allie Marotta, NYC Correspondent
I hate to be that gal but in thinking of the one definitive moment of the decade, my mind goes immediately to Then She Fell. Considering it was the first immersive production I ever saw, and eventually what I based my undergraduate dissertation on, I suppose it’s fitting that it has had such an impact on my perspective. I’ve been back to see it again and again and still find new things to appreciate, I’m constantly marveling at the degree of thoughtfulness that went into the creation of this delicately beautiful and ephemeral beast of a show. There are many moments in the piece that have affected me throughout my experiences, but I am intent on keeping this brief.
The first time I went, I remember being so heartbroken after helping Lewis Caroll write a letter to Alice Liddell and then seeing him put it into a bottle and drop it into the sea of undelivered letters in bottles at his feet. I hadn’t noticed all the bottles before as I was eagerly taking dictation, and at this point in the track the desperation of the relationship was clear, so the element of surprise combined with my major emotional investment in the story elicited a very visceral reaction in me. I found myself in the hallway back outside the room quietly sobbing, probably worrying the steward now that I think about it. But this was the moment. In this moment I knew that this form was capable of things that I had desired to create in my own work, that it was something far more powerful than anything I had ever worked with before.
I felt something so similar the second time I attended. In the middle of the performance there is a song (between yourself and me) that plays throughout the space. I can’t recall where I was the first time, but I remember hearing it in the moment and feeling haunted. The second time I happened to be in the bedroom with the Mad Hatter and SAW HER SING THE SONG LIVE. I had NO IDEA it was live and that this whole other moment was happening in order to create the same song I had heard the first time around and I was stunned. I often say I judge immersive moments by whether they catch my breath or not, and this was the first time I recall it actually happening. I was so taken by the thought, care, and clever crafting that went into this moment that I literally forgot to breathe.
Immersive theatre has accomplished quite a bit in a decade, and I feel such powerful gratitude to the productions that have paved the way. I have seen A LOT of immersive work since that very first performance of Then She Fell, some have been fantastic and some less so, but I’ve always found myself feeling very proud of the community’s constant experimentation and innovation. To this day I still use Then She Fell almost as a sort of barometer, but I’m very excited by the departures being made from this one style of immersive. One decade brought us a lot, and I can’t wait to see what’s next!
Edward Mylechreest, NYC Contributor
I moved to New York City, not knowing a single person here. Over time, I was lucky enough to make friends with enough similarly minded theatre geeks to have the McKittrick Hotel recommended to me. Honestly, I put it off for a while — the price was prohibitive, and with the very limited amount of plot that had been leaked to me, I wasn’t too sure if I would want to spend an evening surrounded by Shakespeare nerds. But the recommendation kept coming, and coming… And coming. Eventually, I took the hint, and on a very cold and snowy night, March 14th 2017, I took a step into a world that would change my experience of theatre, forever.
Having just signed in with the kind, yet somehow otherworldly, Hotel Concierge, we made our way up the dark stairs, worriedly holding hands. My girlfriend (now fianceé) and I had no idea what to expect, and to say we were nervous would have been an understatement. A pitch black maze, with pounding Hitchcock music was almost too much for us. We seriously considered turning around and leaving. However, we moved forward, trepidatiously, hands outstretched, feeling for the walls. Slowly, so slowly, we pushed through our fear, and suddenly we were in the light. A warm foyer, a jazz age bar, a mysterious lady dressed to the nines. We had arrived.
What followed next was the incredible experience which is Sleep No More. Like so many people, this show was the gateway into the world of immersive theatre for me. The sheer size and scope of the production, blew my mind wide open. I had never experienced anything quite like it. I explored every nook and cranny I could, pouring over the books and documents in hidden drawers. I found myself in the middle of a rave, shocked and in awe. At one point, I didn’t take a woman’s outstretched hand, and immediately felt like I had made a mistake, as she turned away from me, taking the hand of another. This was the most bizzare, and fantastic thing, I had ever seen.
It is hard to think about what my life would be like now, if on that night, we had not pushed through our fears and into the unknown. I am indebted to this magnificent show. That night, I wrote my first immersive theatre ‘review.’ From here, I dove head first into the immersive scene here in New York. It has brought me so much joy, so many good friends, and I have even found myself performing in and producing immersive work myself. And perhaps most importantly, it brought me here to NoPro.
I have been back to Manderley, more than a few times. Every time, I fall in love all over again. But there is nothing that will ever match that first time I entered into those haunted halls. It is an experience that I will never, can never forget.
Noah Nelson, Publisher
“Would you care for some tea?”
This question, asked by the White Queen a split second after the Red Queen ordered me and another visitor out of her room in Then She Fell, changed everything.
Up until that point I was wondering just what the hell I was doing at this show. Quietly cursing Joss Whedon for tweeting about it and luring me to New York City for an immersive theatre double feature with the more famous Sleep No More.
It’s 2013 and I hadn’t taken a real vacation in years, so naturally when I could finally afford one I decided on a research trip to explore large scale experimental theatre in NYC. Nerd.
Yet until that question things weren’t connecting. Sleep No More had impressed in terms of scale and ambition, but left me feeling like I was tracing around the edges of something greater. The first few moments of Then She Fell felt disconnected. I was watching performers up close but I didn’t feel particularly engaged. No more than if I was in a front row seat in a black box.
But that question.
That question changed everything. It was an invitation. One that I didn’t really have a choice but to accept, but an invitation nonetheless. And by letting me say “yes” to that question, I found myself saying “yes” to all of it: the dancers, the found object production design, the feeling of shared secrets and stolen glances.
I left “Kingsland Ward” that night with my mind on fire. I filled page upon page in a notebook while drinking good beer in an afterhours jazz club on the Lower East Style while the friend I was staying with played in a jam session late into the night. Those notes became the foundation that led to this website. To everything I’ve built my whole life around for the past half decade.
All starting with a question.
Kathryn Yu, Executive Editor
It’s May 2011. It’s my first time at Sleep No More. It’s only been open two months. I know very little about it. And I can’t find my husband. The elevator operator makes sure of that, after he drops me off on the fifth floor and refuses to let any others follow me. His arm blocks the door as he hits the close button. As for me, I am unaware of any of this. So when I turn around to look for my companion, I find only darkness.
Masked, lost, and alone, I wander from room to room, taking in the strange environment and occasionally spotting a dancer or two. I am at odds with what to do next, in this strange show where it’s oh so dark and you must wear a mask and can’t speak and can’t use your phone.
A man in a taxidermy jacket finds me staring at the glass case full of oddities. He takes my hand. He tells me, “It’s time to meet her.” And he leads me through a dark passageway into her ruined, bloody nightclub, with several others following us. He is practically sprinting towards her. Already, the bass is pumping and the witches’ ritual is about to begin. Soon, Macbeth enters with a crowd following him. The woman in the red dress makes a sound that’s the unholy union of a scream and a cackle, piercing through the static; she’s looking right at me as she does so. The taxidermist is still behind me, heaving with excitement. (Of course, you’re all probably familiar with what happens next.)
Me? I feel disoriented but exhilarated. I am winded, sweaty, and my legs ache from climbing flights of stairs and walking in circles. And I can’t wait to return.
I immediately conscript four of my friends to come back with me while also feverishly comparing notes with other fans. Have you gone yet? becomes a familiar refrain among the NYC art cognoscenti. Did you get a private scene? No, what’s that? I check back into the McKittrick Hotel, again and again, until I know the streets of Gallow Green like the back of my hand; I memorize the hotel’s portals and hallways, its nooks and crannies, from the dances in the lost luggage room to the best vantage points in the speakeasy to the secrets of the wildlife in the forest. I take friends to see it; I take family to see it. I meet some of my best friends in the world through our shared love for the show. They go on to make their own art. One night, I am sent on a quest to deliver something from Hecate to the Porter, and I do; she rewards me with a second one-on-one. I am fed candy by the Sexy Witch. I see Nurse Shaw cough up a nail in a tiny room. And I end up on the sixth floor. This all happens within the span of a few hours. My brain feels like it’s melting. I never truly recover.
Eventually, my fever for all things Sleep No More subsides, a bit, but not my passion for all things immersive.
Read Kathryn’s full 2010’s retrospective.
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