Sometime in the last few years, “fun” has become a euphemism. Saying “Sure, it was fun,” is not unlike calling something “nice”; it implies that the thing in question was, at best, trivial and harmless. So when multiple people reported that Safehouse ’77 was “fun,” I had to wonder. Was it truly fun, or was it…“fun”? As it turns out, I didn’t need to worry. It was simply the perfect word to encapsulate this experience — this was a night of energetic, stylized, playful fun.
Created by Nick Rheinwald-Jones, Safehouse ’77 is a site-specific experience with multiple levels of audience engagement. On the surface, it’s a groovy house party, stocked with snacks, booze, games, and records — all era-appropriate. Characters are ready to bond, vent, and gossip about the latest in 70s politics. Some bestow nicknames, others tell fortunes. Still others seem to have a soapy, sexy history that they just can’t wait to involve us in. But the letters tucked into participants’ hands before the party reveal another layer to the proceedings. Armed with an optional counterphrase, at any point in the night we may be given the chance to whisper it into the right person’s ear…and shift into a world of intrigue.
Part of SpyBrunch’s strategy has been to conceal exactly what that world of intrigue is. And this is understandable: there’s something exhilarating about the jolt when you realize what you’ve walked into. The secrecy surrounding the event makes your own induction into the secrets all the more potent.
But for the sake of coherence, I will disclose this much. Every audience member is given a mission — or multiple missions — to complete. And audience members who opt in will soon discover a trail of secrets, broken hearts, and possible betrayals.
Get Lauren Bello’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
SubscribeSubscribe
On the night I attended, it wasn’t long before I could tell which audience members had received assignments. They were more focused, their questions more pointed. They were lingering around specific characters, taking mental notes. Occasionally they would exchange conspiratorial glances. There is something primal about being “undercover” — a sense of belonging and purpose. Previous wallflowers came alive.
And the quick-witted cast rose to the occasion. Their improv skills encouraged participants to question and investigate as much as they liked — they were never out of their depth. What’s more, they frequently turned the spotlight back on the audience, noting their mood, their willingness or unwillingness to engage. These characters weren’t just there to be mined for plot points; they were tuned in. They knew who hadn’t tasted the fondue yet; they knew who hadn’t heard a particular anecdote. With talent of this caliber drawing the audience in, it was impossible to stay on the sidelines.
In the end, after two and half hours of consistent engagement, it was difficult to leave. We wanted to stay and compare mission details; some of us simply wanted to gossip about the sexy antics witnessed. As we left, we were noting final details on the way out the door — 70s magazines that hadn’t yet been thumbed through, stacks of vintage board games. The world was bright and rich and thoroughly entertaining.
That said, the world of Safehouse ’77 felt surprisingly…well, safe. While we had leeway to banter and question as much as we chose, ultimately our experiences were on rails. Any time we misreported a detail to a character, we were immediately set straight. One audience member failed to speak to his target for most of the night, and this made no difference. Given the concept, I would have loved a degree more of risk — specifically, the ability to fail.
But this is a small note for an ambitious and organizationally stunning first project. With multiple tracks, an intricate web of backstory, and dozens of potential character encounters, Safehouse ’77 is a logistical marvel. I’d love to return if I could; I have a feeling I can’t even begin to understand the scope of the storytelling at work.
Safehouse ‘77’s run is currently sold out. Tickets started at $95. The show takes place in an undisclosed location in Los Feliz.They are currently building their mailing list for future plans.
No Proscenium is a labor of love made possible by our generous backers like you: join them on Patreon today!
In addition to the No Proscenium web site, our podcast, and our newsletters, you can find NoPro on Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, Instagram, and in our online community Everything Immersive.
Discussion