Birth: check. Death: check. And now onto the business of living. Confused? Read Part 1.
3. The Rope (October 2016)
It’s increasingly common to see “horror” experiences on nearly a year-round basis, but the best work tends to be saved for October. Amidst these high expectations and as a follow-up to last year’s debut, this year’s “signature” show did not disappoint, despite having scant resemblance to anything that had come before it.
The Rope seemed intent on changing up many of the fixtures found at earlier experiences. First, they managed to deliver many of their personal, solitary experiences in the context of a larger group of six. I thought that the intimate nature of the experience would be compromised by the group dynamic, but it was mostly intact. Second, and more interestingly, this was the first production that truly led with story. Previous productions had narratives & themes, but felt more impressionistic, open-ended, and rawly experiential. By contrast, The Rope had characters, backstories, plot lines, settings, literal setpieces, and other trappings that one would typically expect from “theater.” Before you go off thinking that they were getting all Tennessee Williams on us though, where it got interesting is that the show was also a game.
After an introductory scene, we were each given a separate mission to locate somebody in the story world and perform some action. We would receive special items as a result of completing tasks, and were directed to periodically check in with a sage character for more guidance. The various character encounters had interactive components that sometimes required choices that seemed to alter the outcome of the overall story. In the final scene, all of the guests were reunited as a group and shared our tokens with a final character who provided closure and parting wisdom about both our individual and collective experiences.
The production design was more ambitious and varied than in prior productions and provided an appropriately surreal backdrop to this journey to a fantasy time & place. And as would be expected, everything was tinged with a dark intensity that never allowed you to completely feel at ease, in a good way. This was October after all.
All in all, it was an enjoyable and unexpected way to spend an evening. The various experiments: group experiences, game mechanics, stronger storylines all felt well-considered and were more successful than not. However, in embracing a more traditional framework, they took on some of the heavy lifting that goes with it. In an impressionistic, solitary experience, a good portion of the show ends up happening inside your own head. There isn’t really a good way to tell a story halfway, and it felt like there were some troubling loose ends. Afterward, I had a conversation with one of my fellow seekers that started with him saying aloud to no-one in particular, perhaps just the building in which we had just spent the last hour, “Does anybody else here feel just a little bit frustrated?”
There were spurts of story, teases of backstory, vapor trails of character arc, that just-woken-from dream sense that you kind of get what’s going on, and the dawning realization that you don’t. That hunger for a full meal not just a succession of artful plates. I wanted to know more about everything I had heard and everyone I had met, and I had the sinking feeling that I wouldn’t, or worse that there was nothing left to know.
2. Fear Is What We Learned Here (October 2015)
I can remember it so clearly. Parking my car on the unfamiliar suburban street near an address that I had only been provided in the past day. Walking alone up a dark path, carefully following the provided directions to choose the right path at appropriate landmarks, and finally approaching the figure wearing a black robe, standing silently. Waiting for me. And thinking to myself, “Now what?!”
Fear Is What We Learned Here was a fresh installment in the type of solitary, extreme horror experience pioneered by BLACKOUT. It mixed a dark minimalist sensibility with clever low-tech effects and artful touches in a way that was beautiful, disorienting, exhilarating, and unexpected. All of this was executed with a homegrown sensibility that felt raw and unpredictable, and even a bit dangerous in a way that most productions can never achieve. It was the show I felt luckiest to have experienced in 2015, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It exceeded many of my expectations of what I could want from this type of show, and helped set a new standard of what I would want to experience in the future.
So why wasn’t it #1?
1. Shoshin (May 2016)
After Parturition‘s relatively disappointing follow-up to Fear‘s dark splendor, I was wary of Shoshin. From what scant information that was shared beforehand, it seemed to be an immersive theater show about Zen Buddhism. Huh? Exactly. Should I sit this one out? Have these guys gone off the rails? Did I have them all wrong? Was Fear a lucky hit? But it was May; October was months away, and I could hear the darkness calling.
I found myself in the same neck of the woods that I had been to for Fear, and some of the setups were familiar. Show up to an address, don a robe hanging from a tree, and wait to see what happens. I flowed into a 90-minute mostly outdoor walking journey staged in plain sight in the green areas of a suburban community. I was fascinated to see the tropes of extreme horror seamlessly applied to an introspective odyssey of self-discovery and reflection that was challenging but gentle, strict but instructive. In the same way, that we have discovered that we must ultimately be alone in order to truly face that which we fear, Shoshin draws a similar parallel of intensity and gravity to the lifelong process of an individual’s search for meaning.
The format of the show was a procession through various stations and activities, some of which were entirely self-guided and without any performers. I did not feel rushed at any point and considering it was springtime in Southern California, it was mostly a pleasant, if not slightly peculiar way to spend some much-needed time outdoors. The final scene occurred indoors where I was an audience of one to an intense keyboard and vocal performance that was absolutely stunning. It was oddly cathartic — I occasionally return to that moment, and how unique it has been in my experiences.
On one hand, it would be easy to fault Shoshin for a reliance on other ideas — in this case, the book Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, from which it borrows liberally for much of its script. But the genius of Shoshin lies in how it brought those abstract theoretical ideas to life and made them interactive and compelling. I actually came away wanting to learn more about meditation, something that probably would have never happened if I had just tried reading the book.
Above all, this was my favorite show because of how absolutely different it was from Fear. It would have been easy for them to keep phoning it in and delivering dark, solitary, horrifying experiences, and I’d probably keep going to them. But Shoshin was a gutsy gamble that almost seemed designed to fail. Instead, the result was spectacularly transcendent. It not only broadens what can be achievable in a context of darkness and intensity, but elevates the potential of immersive theater across the board.
Thank you to Screenshot Productions for your tireless ambition and fearless experimentation.
Ever seeking light, I look forward to whatever comes next.