Wandering around Professor Mysterium’s Menagerie of Wonder

I’ve been here before.

That’s the thought running through my head as I enter Professor Mysterium’s Menagerie of Wonder.

I’m in a cabaret. Everything is soaked in booze, oozing the color red. The fog is playing tricks on my eyes. There’s a man doing card tricks at a table, while a jazz singer croons on stage. I see silhouettes I can barely make out hovering near the edges of the room. A woman in a suit writes obsessively in a notebook, scrawling the phrase “this is what the night does to us” over and over. Meanwhile, a scantily-clad woman takes in the scene and frowns to herself as she sits at a table in the back marked “reserved.”

It feels like the Manderley… if the Manderley were populated by circus freaks and weirdos.

A dangerous-looking man lingers at the bar. I order a Professor’s Punch from the bartender who warns me, “be careful, it packs a punch.” (Groan.) And everywhere I look, a bright green concoction is being served amongst our motley crew of approximately a dozen assembled misfits; they quaff with abandon and catapult over the line of what is typically considered sensible drinking. I can imagine why, as I keep getting offered shots by performers throughout the night.

Then a dapper, long-haired gentleman dressed in a tuxedo and lovely white bowtie gets on stage to introduce the next act; later on, he sings a duet with the jazz singer. Like many in the menagerie, he is known only as “The Emcee” (a creepily charming João Santos).

Over the course of the night, I witness even more binge drinking (Mariella Klinger’s Poet seems awfully fond of the bottle), some terrible standup comedy (also from the Poet), and a strange retelling of a tale which requires an audience member’s help and the use of four staple guns on stage.

Oh, and there’s a man swallowing razor blades.

Of course there is.

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“I’m in love with him,” sighs the Emcee, holding my hand.

Then his face falls when he realizes the Carni (a wicked Alexander Moitzi) only has eyes for the Clown (a maudlin Chris Hendricks). I’m not sure if anybody else notices what has transpired.

Fans of immersive theatre who covet “sandbox” productions and one-on-one interaction will find much to like in Curiosities; I returned to the cabaret multiple times only to find myself in front of a performer with an outstretched hand. Sometimes we returned to a private room in the warren of tunnels backstage; other times we simply stopped to observe another set of performers interact. I often found myself face to face with a performer in the maze, with only a few other audience members around.

The hashtag for the show is “you will be touched,” and indeed we are. A lot. The cast spends a large chunk of the show leading attendees backstage by the hand, caressing a stranger’s face, whispering in their ear, or slipping a tender hand on an unsuspecting arm or shoulder. Two out of our party of three experienced situations that would probably make others uncomfortable. I would have appreciated a bit of warning before my wrists were strapped with velcro to a wall, arms strung up above my head, as a character gave a monologue about orgies from about an inch from my face, and then placed my hands on his chest. One of my male companions also reported being straddled by a female performer, which was followed later on by a straddling from a male performer, who then kissed him on the cheek. Such is life in the equal opportunity menagerie. Luckily for the performers, my friend found himself only surprised and amused, but not all audience members will have the same reaction. Despite the high-contact nature of these one-on-ones, I still felt difficulty connecting with the performers. And the level of intimacy foisted upon the audience hops over the line of requiring a pre-show waiver (and I would strongly encourage the creators to add one).

Observant devotees of the McKittrick Hotel will notice many of the same notes being used here, to good effect: a hazy 1930s nightclub, a jazz soundtrack of scratchy vinyl, a maze made of wooden crates lit by a blue light, and Bible pages littering the set. And that omnipresent fog. It’s the same old song, but played with convincing verisimilitude.

However, our collection of freaks and strange ones seems obsessed not just with pleasures of the flesh but also readings from the Bible. The Faded Star (a tragic Cara Picone) whisks me into her dressing room and speaks to me about the two angels who visited Lot, before brandishing a secret for my eyes only. As I pray with the New Girl (a nervous, delicate Kelley Davies) in front of a portrait of her parents, I notice a gold chained cross around her neck. The Medium (Nicole Orabona) frantically grabs me and draws a pentagram on my palm, trying to finish before The Clown sees. He then tries to undo the mark later, while rambling about God and punishment in front of a music box in his tiny bedroom, behind a closed curtain.

Curiosities takes a page from Sleep No More’s book and runs with it. It’s heartening to see a company try a sandbox production at this scale; Green Lite Productions has extracted elements of the Punchdrunk formula and transformed them to work in a smaller, more intimate setting of 25 — 50 audience members a night. They’ve got some intriguing undercurrents of sensuality and religion and a solid ensemble cast, though I wished the show had gone in just a little bit deeper into these themes. Because much of the action happens in the cabaret, it’s also easier to discern the relationships between the characters in a short amount of time. And while the quality (and volume) of performer-audience interaction is refreshing, the meaning behind the scripture spoken by the cast can feel opaque.

Some students of the genre would say this show isn’t diverging enough from their inspirations. I still found the sound design, lighting design, and overall atmosphere to be very much on point. While Curiosities doesn’t feel “ground-breaking” or “mind-blowing” or any of the other hyperbolic adjectives that get thrown around in this space, it’s evident that a lot of care went into making the experience enjoyable, even if the story never quite reaches the levels of intended catharsis. (Spoiler: in my book, you need to earn your surprise endings).

Regardless, Curiosities is a fun way to while away the hours in a dark club, drinking your cares away, as you observe the sideshow around you. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Just make sure you stay away from the Professor’s Punch.

Curiosities continues through November 26 in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Tickets are $100. No Proscenium readers can get 50% off with the code ‘NOPRO.’

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