Photo by Heidi Kaden on Unsplash

This week on the Rundown: three reviews out of the Philly Fringe from East Coast Curator at Large Blake Weil, plus a few more from around the globe and one even from a galaxy far, far away.

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The City At Your Feet — Gabi Linde & Katherine Leung, presented by Tender Absence
€4.00; Remote (Telegram); Run Concluded

The City At Your Feet is an immersive dandelion. It doesn’t need a fancy location or complicated narrative; it will grow literally anywhere. I could torture this metaphor by saying that City At Your Feet is as mundane as it is beautiful or that it’s gone as quickly as it appears (the run was one day only, starting at 14:00 CET on September 12, and lasting just under 4 hours), but you get the idea. This was a show about what we take for granted in the spaces we think we know. The text-based performance takes place over the Telegram messaging app, in the form of a series of small tasks provided by a pleasantly supportive guide. The premise is simple: start somewhere familiar and allow yourself to be guided elsewhere.

“You will be guided through a city you thought you knew well, only to discover hidden gems, tiny treasures, and untold stories of the spaces/places you often walk past in a hurry,” the description states. Over the course of an hour and a half, I wandered onto a university campus, wrote a poem, followed my nose to a laundry room, hid a message for a stranger, and compared notes with a fellow traveler in Leipzig, Germany.

It’s amazing how many similarities we found in our two cities, right down to the sunflowers growing 3,810 miles apart in their respective unused lots.

— Leah Davis, New England Correspondent

Photo by Julie Fox

The Grown-Ups — Nightdrive
Pay what you can ($15 suggested); New York City, NY; Through November 1st

The air is cool as we sit around the campfire with our fellow camp staff and discuss the various developments of the day. You know, just the standard camp fare: Little Johnny was so brave today; how should we roster activities tomorrow; and how do we stop the children from finding out civil war is breaking out just outside camp…?

From Nightdrive comes The Grown-Ups, a satirical take on Summer Camp Life. Participants are invited to sit alongside the not quite-experienced-enough “senior” camp counselors as the worlds of camp and the outside world gradually implode upon each other. The Grown-Ups asks: who are we when responsibility is thrust upon us, when traditions meet the present, and when change is not just imminent, but necessary?

The Grown-Ups is also one of the darkest and wittiest scripts I have experienced in the immersive world, which in turn leads to some of the finest performances by an ensemble I have ever seen. Scary stories, summer flings, problematic histories, arts and crafts, privilege, high school debate teams, racism, teen influencers, puberty… it all comes up in this satirical tale. And, refreshingly, the cleverly written script is also incredibly funny, with blink-and-you’ll-miss-‘em lines sparking out into the night sky at a breakneck pace. (For example, the genesis of the civil war comes from two different factions being unable to agree whether a pineapple does or does not in fact look like Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson. It’s wild.) As someone who has worked at summer camps myself, every character archetype is immediately recognizable, with all of the absurdly unique manifestations that summer camp brings with it. Each actor brings a level of heartbreaking flawed relatability, such that it is impossible to not be drawn into the story.

Sitting around an actual campfire instantaneously transports the audience into the world of Camp Indigo Woods; I find I am thoroughly engaged with the dystopian narrative that continues to unwind. But there is a level of distance from an immersive theatre perspective. The audience are not spoken to or interacted with directly, although we are given marshmallows to toast as the staff do. Our role in the evening is never quite nailed down. It’s a small detail, but I would describe The Grown-Ups as more of an amazing theatrical and site-specific evening than an amazing immersive experience.

Still, I would eagerly sign up for another session at camp with this ingenious team of creators. That is, if camp is even still standing this time, next year.

— Edward Mylechreest, New York City Correspondent

IF WE WIN — Yannick Trapman-O’Brien
Free (Sold Out, Standby Available); Philadelphia, PA; Through Oct 1

Yannick Trapman-O’Brien has a skill like no other at making an audience comfortable. In previous works, such as his much lauded Telelibrary, this has been an invitation to connect through vulnerability and feel cared for. Here, in If We Win, this becomes an invitation to explore our often unspoken relationships with money.

The premise is simple. Each audience of three is given a scratch-off lottery ticket with a maximum prize of $100,000. Post-tax, this amounts to approximately $25,000 a head. That potential $25,000 is the audience’s to keep if they’ll answer Yannick’s increasingly probing questions about how they’ll spend that money, helping him construct a gallery piece probing into the nature of money, wealth, and hope.

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Of course, the experience is not as grim or self-serious as it sounds. Peppered throughout are clever puns, cheeky moments of interaction, and “fun facts” (including the both fun and depressing “spicy facts” that inevitably come when discussing financial trivia). Trapman-O’Brien is a superb conversationalist who knows how to both gently stir the pot, coaxing shyer audience members into sharing their personal thoughts, and also play the most loving form of devil’s advocate, acknowledging that under our modern capitalist system everyone is entitled to whatever feelings they have. While by no means is a self-selected Fringe audience a representative sample, the diversity of thought in my group kept conversation sharp, but the warmth of the moderation from Trapman-O’Brien kept conversation flowing.

In the end, we only won $10. We as a group agreed to use our winnings to split a plate of tamales with Trapman-O’Brien and chat. Maybe the most surprising thing was that after one of the most forbidden conversations in our American culture, discussing our incomes and financial goals in explicit numbers, the conversation was anything but awkward. As with all of Yannick Trapman-O’Brien’s work I have previously experienced, the meta message seems to be about the ways we can all lead more pleasant lives by engaging each other with kindness, empathy, and honesty. If a conversation about money can leave me feeling this good, I know I’m in the hands of an expert. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be back to worrying about loans and investments and 10-year plans. But for now? They’re just a universal pain in our modern economic nightmare. No matter what, we’ll have our friends beside us, hopefully. And with a little bit of luck, maybe some tamales, too.

— Blake Weil, Curator at Large, East Coast

Previously I’ve sung the praises of the immersive one-on-one. And I’ve sung the praises of close-up magic. Now get ready for a new one. Intimate juggling! (I know, I’m just as surprised as you are.) Juggling, in my mind, will always be synonymous with neon colored clubs tossed skillfully, yet without any panache, by a performer asking for tips on a boardwalk somewhere. Here, though, all sorts of object manipulations fuse with sculpture, dance, and mime (another first!) to create a wholly unique circus show.

The performance space is decked out as the titular Sculpture Gallery, one filled with extravagantly crafted pieces of modern sculpture. A curator (Bryanna Raine) introduces you to the sculptor (Greg Kennedy) and his charming assistant (Zak McAllister, the aforementioned mime) and then invites the audience to draw puzzle pieces to determine which acts will be featured that evening. Light, corporate-sounding jazz keeps the event feeling suitably staid its theming, but the soundtrack transitions into percussion-heavy music as each sculpture turns into a platform for a thrilling act of dexterity.

At first, the lack of audience choice in drawing the evening’s performances “randomly” bothered me. What, for example, was that spectacular funnel in the corner for? We never got to find out, as its puzzle piece went unselected. As the show progressed, though, I realized that some of the most spectacular performances were hidden within the most mundane objects. A box of two by fours had the audience holding their breath as McAllister balanced above it. And a clear horizontal tube provided one of the evening’s most intense moments. As each performance concluded, and its central sculpture was transformed, new life was breathed into the gallery space.

Greg Kennedy is clearly the most talented juggler I’ve ever seen (not that I’m a great critic of jugglers), but more than that, The Sculpture Gallery manages to translate a skill that is typically impressive — if not wildly entertaining — into thrilling fun.
— Blake Weil, Curator at Large, East Coast

MIXTAPE — Alterra Productions
Pay What You Can; Philadelphia, PA; Through Sept 25

Sometimes, but not always, when I’m splurging on a nice meal, I want the charcuterie board. Even if each component wouldn’t make a fine appetizer in and of itself, the variety, novelty, and charm of the board more than make up for it. So while the marketing for Mixtape compares itself more to a song collection, my mind kept drifting to an assortment of meats and cheeses as my metaphor for engagement. While each component performance was a light bite, when compiled all together, the whole evening was a charming, relaxing experience.

Under the umbrella of Alterra Productions, Mixtape provides a space for the odd little participatory and intimate performances that wouldn’t quite be able to find their own niche within the Philadelphia Fringe Festival. These are indeed quite small experiences: quick five minute bits of clowning; a new character being tried out by a performer in roving one-on-one interactions; smaller-scale performance art. By picking and choosing what to engage with, the whole thing is tied together by a cocktail party’s joviality, with fresh pizza and friendly bartenders keeping things fun between acts.

On some level, I found myself searching for a little bit more structure in Mixtape. It was a little bit odd transitioning quickly from feminist modern dance railing against unjust body standards to an exuberant burlesque striptease. Nonetheless, the whole experience was a nice way to engage with a wide variety of art forms and artists in a more casual way than a full-scale show. For those looking to nibble on some immersive before gnawing into the entrees of the Philadelphia Fringe Festival, Mixtape is a pleasant opening act.

— Blake Weil, Curator at Large, East Coast

Source: ILMxLAB

Star Wars: Tales from the Galaxy’s Edge — Last Call — ILMxLAB
$9.99 (expansion), ($34.99 complete); Oculus Quest: Available Now

That’s perhaps the most stunning accomplishment of Last Call: it takes what had been a lightly held together duet of stories and weaves something that is, at points, beautiful out of it. There’s some pathos under the surface of the melodramatic Star Wars riffs, and by the time the credits rolled I was sorry to have to leave this world behind.
— Noah Nelson, Founder & Publisher from his Full Review

Photo by Alex Hawthorn

Utopian Hotline. — Theatre Mitu
$20–50; New York, NY; Through Sept 26

I dial 646–694–8050 and hear the following message: “Thank you for calling the Utopian Hotline. We are collecting anonymous responses to help us build a better tomorrow. At the tone, please respond to the question: How do you imagine a more perfect future?”

After doing my best in summarizing my entire life philosophy in an elevator pitch, I hang up, my fingertips buzzing. Will somebody ever hear this? Will my message to the future be received? (Of course, I, like most other human beings, do tend to think about the future and have an opinion on how to make it better for everybody.)

Two years ago, Theater MITU, a Brooklyn-based company, set up a public telephone hotline as a part of the research for a new show. Those messages, as well as conversations with astronauts, astronomers, futurists, and middle school students, have become the source material for Utopian Hotline., a vinyl record and live performance.

Up to twelve audience members are invited to enter MITU580, the company’s studio, after removing their shoes. A lush pink carpet generously embraces my happy toes as I make my way to one of the round, white cushions placed around the perimeter of the black box theatre. There is a long, low table in the middle of the room with an array of telephones, tape records, vinyl record players, and microphones neatly assembled on it. An elongated projection screen hovers above the table, emanating a soft glow.

The aural components of Utopian Hotline. make it to the audience through headphones. Four femme performers dressed in white jumpsuits and yellow socks sing and deliver monologues through microphones and telephone receivers. Like operators on a space station, they move around the table with graceful precision, connecting and disconnecting recorders and record players. The performance is woven from songs, messages from the hotline callers, philosophical reflections on the nature of time, and personal memories.

Part sci-fi call center, part group therapy for those who long to connect, Utopian Hotline. is a meditative and soothing experience. The collage-like narrative takes the audience into the mind of a dyslexic person and to outer space, where the Voyager’s Golden Record is drifting alone in the dark, among other places. But the journey feels safe. And the haptic elements of the show’s design hold my body, much like the 21 layers of NASA’s first space suit held the early astronauts. From the soft touch of the playfully pink carpet to the comforting hug of the headphones, everything feels so calming that I don’t want to leave after the 45-minute performance is over.

The pressing immediacy of public and personal matters over the past two years has continued to knock many of us off our feet. But holding onto a sense of community and fixing our gaze upon the future helps us rise. This notion is what Utopian Hotline. reminds us of: curiosity and care are inherent to humans as a species, and no matter what we are going through, we can always count on them. As Stephen Hawking puts it, the objects are not trapped in black holes forever. And “if you feel you are in a black hole, don’t give up, there is a way out.”

— Asya Gorovits, New York City Correspondent

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