#punchdrunk theatre

[my-burnt-city]

Oppenheimer girlfriend // Barbie boyfriend

[te-pu-si-ti]

When you've been doing your best to follow diligently but respectfully, and the performer rewards you with a lil interaction:

This is great, I'm going to get a good grade in Audience Member, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve

[hannmadi]

The Burnt City, July 2022

Stepping onto the set of Punchdrunk’s The Burnt City feels like being simultaneously catapulted into a futuristic neon utopia and plunged back into the sprawling cities of ancient Greece. Spread out across two former arsenal buildings in Woolwich, the space is unlike any theatre set imaginable. You’ll have to take my word on this one as prior to entering the set itself all phones are secured inside crossbody bags worn throughout the show. Thus, I have no footage of the mammoth 3-hour production but I will do my best to describe the experience.

(I must preface this by admitting that performance art in general is something I am relatively new to. In fact, I have been guilty in the past of assuming it to be the kind of art which is only accessed in a gallery space, the sort of art which has people gathering in groups and muttering in confusion. Within contemporary art, the vast sub-genre that is performance art undeniably harbours a stigma stemming from the anger of misunderstanding the concepts and themes explored, something which I myself have fallen prey to at times.)

The first piece that actually allowed me to connect with performance art, to feel as though I understood it, was Marina Abramović’s piece Rhythm 0. Unfortunately, I wasn’t around in 1974 to witness the 6-hour work unfold, though reading about it on the internet many years later still produced a startling effect. Rhythm 0 masterfully explored an idea central to performance art – what role should the audience play in its creation? By allowing visitors to choose from 72 objects (including chains, flowers, needles, and a gun) and use them in any way they wished, Abramović produced a work reminiscent of Zimbardo’s Stanford prison experiment. Audience members began by offering her flowers and gentle touches, but as time wore on and the performance entered its 4th hour the thrill of anonymity and lack of accountability meant that people became violent. Ultimately the piece ended with a loaded gun pressed against Abramović’s temple and a fight between those who could still had a sense of morality and those who were consumed by violent desires.

Audience participation and anonymity have also found their place at the heart of Punchdrunk’s practice. At each of their performances, audience members are required to wear a mask resembling a cross between a plague doctor’s and that worn by The Phantom in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera. Whilst daunting and ngl kind of creepy at first, once you get past the discomfort (we had to wear masks as well because this was soon after lockdown had eased) it was fun to step outside of yourself. Throughout the production, talking is banned and you are encouraged to wander off on your own, though admittedly I was too afraid to do that so clung to my boyfriend the whole time. One-to-ones occur between actors and audience, though this is not a guarantee. We saw a man get pulled into a cupboard at one point and he didn't emerge for the few minutes we stuck around.

I can't even begin to describe how visually rich the set was, everywhere you looked there were tiny clues linking it to ancient Greece. Whilst I definitely missed loads of said clues at the time, I could still appreciate the talent and dedication that went into designing the set. Every last detail was meticulously thought out, from the tiny drawings and stamps hidden away inside drawers to the beautifully choreographed finale, the whole show was jaw-dropping. The story itself only lasted one hour though it played out on a loop three times to ensure you could catch the main parts. That might sound easy but you can't imagine how big the set was, running around and following certain characters could easily take the full three hours. I'm considering going back to try and see what I missed the first time around. In fact, many people do.

Honestly, I can't praise it enough, the experience was unlike anything else. No performance art piece could compare. I don't think all of my senses have ever been so engaged at once. And with so much to explore and see, there is absolutely something there for everyone. You can spend the whole time discovering the set, or following characters, getting lost in Punchdrunk's world, and no matter what you see I bet it will be life-changing.

[livin-art]

Macbeth, Act III: Scene 4

Carla Salas, 2023

1939, Macbeth, Copley Theatre, Boston

1946, Macbeth, Shakespeare Memorial Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon

1976-1978, Macbeth, The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon

2011 - present, Sleep No More, The McKittrick Hotel, New York

[rissarants]

Farewell, My Favorite Fever Dream

Note: If you're only interested in my final show's recap, scroll down a bit. Obviously, spoiler warning. My Previous History with Sleep No More Before this past Saturday afternoon, it had been about a decade since I last checked into The McKittrick Hotel. What I thought would be my final visit was in October of 2013, my best friend and I attended another Sleep No More show that was promptly followed by Panic! At The Disco's album release party. It was an incredible evening, despite the "give me a vodka cranberry, this time with vodka" incident that resulted in a bartender gleefully sending me into a drunken spiral. It was my fourth show and I assumed it would be my last. After all, how many times could a person justify seeing the same show? (After perusing the Sleep No More subreddit and discord... apparently a lot. How the hell are you all affording this?!)

Content with my experiences and convinced I had seen all there was to see, I put that obsession behind me.... or so I thought.

The mysterious and cryptic world of Sleep No More lingered in the back of my head like a haunting melody that refused to fade. Occasionally I would reminisce about the blue-tinged forest maze, the smell of the hotel lobby, and recall my 1:1 with Hecate. I relished retelling my experiences to people who had never been to the show. During the peak of my obsession, I had recapped a couple of my visits here on Tumblr (Sleep No More and The Third Time's The Charm) and I would return long after this blog had grown dormant just to reread those posts. I had toyed with the idea of returning, but as I grew older and life became more expensive, so did the show. I couldn't justify dropping that amount of money on something I had seen four times already. Then came the closing announcement. Suddenly I found myself pulling up the site, going over current ticket prices, and wishing I could take that leap. But I was no longer the financially irresponsible 20-something without real responsibility. I'm in my thirties, a mother, and have things like preschool tuition to worry about.

After a casual conversation with my in-laws over Thanksgiving dinner, the topic of Sleep No More was brought up. Immediately I was gushing about how much I adored the show, my past experiences, and how I had never reached that elusive 6th floor. As a result, they ended up buying me two tickets as my gift for Christmas. They had sprung for the Oz's Guest tickets, so we were able to get priority entry, a table, and a complimentary coat check. It was an incredibly generous gift, and I was nearly moved to tears. I was finally going back. My Final Show Recap After an excruciating month of waiting and obsessing, the day had finally arrived. I was going with my husband who had never attended but heard my stories and was looking forward to seeing it for himself. I wanted him to go in mostly blind and only gave him the most basic of tips (e.g. if an actor offers their hand, take it. If you hear techno music, run towards it.) He understood that we would not be going on this adventure together, I refused to be one of those obnoxious couples who held hands the entire time. Half of the fun is going with someone, separating from them once you enter the hotel, and then talking about what you both experienced afterward. For myself, I had done a bit of research before this final show and was hoping to follow the loops of characters I hadn't paid attention to before. While I had this initial plan, I also promised myself that I would go with the natural flow of things. I had been warned about the aggressive crowds and didn't want to let anything like that spoil my final visit. We arrived early, were checked in swiftly, and given a pair of playing cards (aces, which meant we would be in the first group.) Before I knew it, "The Man Who Knew Too Much Prelude" was filling my ears as we navigated the pitch-black maze that acts like a portal to the Manderley bar. We had a table waiting for us, but since we had aces there was not enough time for a drink. Our group was called, and Steve and I were separated almost immediately. I ended up on the elevator and he was in another group that went up some stairs.

I was the first person off of the elevator and the doors shut quickly behind me. For a split second, I thought I may have been dumped out on the 6th floor, but unfortunately, it was the 5th floor. I spotted the familiar bathtubs and beds of the King James Sanitorium and began to wander. I weaved through the Birch Forest maze, which was every bit as eerie and confusing as I remembered. I saw Matron Lang hanging out in her wooden hut and watched her through the window for what felt like a long time. Eventually, I grew a bit bored and wandered down to Macbeth's bedroom.

I watched the scene where Lady Macbeth eventually convinces her husband to murder Duncan. It was at this point that I considered trying to follow Macbeth throughout the first loop and chased him to the canopy where a sleeping Duncan lay. I watched as Macbeth smothered him with a pillow, a long brutal scene where we had to stand there helplessly as Duncan fought back angrily, eventually weakening and giving up with a final twitch. Macbeth tried to wash his hands in a basin, only to realize that they were now covered in blood. I still can't believe that I somehow missed this pivotal moment in my previous shows. At this point, a sizeable crowd had gathered around the (quite handsome) actor who played Macbeth and I noticed a few aggressive women were shoving their way to the front. It was then that I decided to hang back with Duncan's dead body to see what would happen next. I believe it was Banquo who came in, found the body, and began ringing the bell. Malcolm and Macduff arrived, and they all expressed their grief, eventually bringing the body down to the crypt. Again, a pushy crowd had begun to gather and I craved space. I went up a flight or two and heard the unmistakable techno beats of the witches' second prophecy/rave/blood orgy thing. I immediately changed course and followed the beats to the long, dark, hallway topped with a neon sign that once read "Hello There" but now simply stated "Hell here." The rave scene is still as impactful as it was the first time I had seen it... complete sensory overload. I ended up in a spot where I was front and center, watching as Hecate whipped the other witches up into a frenzy. The beat dropped and the strobe lights kicked in, causing the scene to be presented in short flashes. The Boy Witch completely nude, on top of a table wearing an animal's head. Macbeth presented with a bloody infant. The guttural screams of the witches' power.

I stayed after the rave to witness the Sexy Witch do her exhausted, eerie dance behind the bar as Hecate watched. Afterward, Hecate and Agnes had a tense moment where the former gathered the latter's tears in a little glass vial.

It was at this point that I decided to follow Agnes back to her apartment, the Tailor made his creepy appearance through her closet, and the loop restarted. I tried sticking with Agnes for as long as I could, getting to see her dance with the Tailor, steal his money, and eventually make her way to the hotel lobby.

It was there that I was reunited with an old character I remembered fondly: the Porter. While I did not have a true 1:1 with him in my previous shows, he did give me the note that eventually led to my cherished Hecate 1:1. That was then followed by a frantic, yet fruitless attempt at finding her ring.

This time I hung back and observed as the Porter had his tea scene with Agnes, followed by a drunken dance as he cleaned up the hotel. I have to say that this actor was incredibly good, mixing a bit of rage, sadness, and silliness as he leaped around the room pulling sheets from lamps. After the Boy Witch arrived to taunt and then cruelly reject the Porter, one of the other white masks (audience members) was whisked away into the Porter's office for a 1:1. At this point, I admit that I was feeling a little confused about what to do next. I was approximately halfway through this final show and had an anxious feeling about wasting the precious moments I had left. I recalled reading how you could gain access to the 6th floor 1:1 by encountering a nurse on the 5th floor. I decided to check it out quickly, hoping that I would get lucky.

Instead, I ran into Nurse Shaw, who was doing an odd dance in the window between the bathtubs and the forest. I followed her through the woods and ran into Matron Lang who seemed transfixed by the Nurse. They both seemed to mirror each other's movements and the Matron started moving through the maze in an attempt to catch up to the Nurse. She was unsuccessful as the Nurse disappeared back through her window, and I decided to follow a slightly dejected Matron Lang back to her hut. She walked up the steps to the wooden hut and turned around, staring right into my eyes. It was at this moment that she extended her hand. I suddenly felt breathless as the sensation of butterflies tinged with fear filled my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized I would be experiencing a 1:1 at my final show. I slowly took her hand, and she pulled me up into the hut.

My 1:1 with Matron Lang She was silent as she shut the door behind me, followed by the window, and then turned to face me. She slowly removed my mask, all the while never breaking eye contact, and whispered something along the lines of "That's better." I tried to say thank you, but the words caught in my dry mouth, my tongue suddenly feeling foreign and useless.

She offered me a seat, went to her desk, and prepared a cup of tea. As she did so, she locked eyes with me in a small mirror. She was not smiling. I wanted to look away, but it was so unnerving that I felt like I had to hold her gaze in fear of seeming rude.

She handed me the cup of tea with a spoon and leaned forward expectantly. I didn't know what she wanted, so after a couple of awkward beats, she gently grabbed my hand to guide the spoon into the tea and then into her mouth. I fed her the tea about three times, slowly and trying not to let my shaking hand spill any liquid onto her face.

The entire time she stared at me. I'm sure she blinked at some points, but I swear it felt like her piercing eyes never moved.

After the tea, she quietly told me a story about a young child who was all alone. "Once upon a time there was a poor child with no mother and no father. Everything was dead, and there was nobody left in the whole world. Everything was dead. The boy went on search day and night and since there was no one left on earth he wanted to go up into the heavens. The moon looked at him so friendly! But when he finally got to the moon, the moon was a piece of rotten wood. And then he went to the sun, and when he got there, the sun was a wilted sunflower. And when he went to the stars they were little golden flies stuck up there like the shrike sticks them on the blackthorn. And when he wanted to go back to earth, the earth was an overturned piss pot. And he was all alone. And he sat down and he cried, and he is still there to this day, all alone." (Apparently, this is from Büchner’s Woyzeck. I had to look it up when I got home.)

As she whispered this story, her eyes began to fill with tears, prompting mine to do the same. She held my palm, tracing the lines and occasionally squeezing my hand. She then leaned far back in her chair, pulling my hand with her so I had to lean forward. Without warning, she flung forward, grabbed my shoulders as I gasped, and whispered "It'll have blood they say, blood will have blood." She got up, put my mask on, and showed me the door. As I left, she shut the door behind her, and I was back in the woods with other white masks who were staring at me intently. I walked past them as I tried to regulate my breathing and figure out what to do next. After that adrenaline rush, the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. I bounced between characters as the crowds grew larger and more unruly. I saw the angry Taxidermist searching for something, finally caught the ballroom party, and helped another white mask catch pregnant Lady Macduff when she passed out. I saw the Bald Witch's transformation, the rave one final time, and then followed the Sexy Witch to the apothecary.

She knelt down, dress still hanging off of her with her chest exposed. She washed the blood off of her skin and hair in a small bowl, then stood and handed me a towel. I helped towel her off slowly, she then fixed her dress and grabbed me close to whisper "Blood will have blood" in my ear.

I followed her out to the last banquet and had a front-row spot for the finale. I'll never be able to properly describe how that scene makes me feel. The slow-motion acting, the allusion to 'The Last Supper", Macbeth's frantic "NO", followed by the snap of the noose. Absolutely chilling.

The wood groaned under the weight of the swinging body, with the creaking eventually drowned out by "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" by Glenn Miller. We were all herded out of the hotel in a haze, greeted by a loud jazz band playing old-timey renditions of current popular songs. It's a jarring switch of moods, which only seemed to exacerbate my post-show disorientation.

The 6th floor still eludes me.

Is that all there is?

[theworstofallpossibleworlds]

The Worst of All Possible Worlds #123: Sleep No More

Dara Swisher (Here I Am) and the lads grab their masks and book a stay at the McKittrick Hotel as they dive into the deep secrets and complicated legacy of the industry-defining immersive theater piece: Punchdrunk’s Sleep No More. Topics include the history of immersive theater, the seductive appeal of tracksuits, and the eternal battle between the production of theater and the monolith of real estate.

[myburntwritings]

Mycenae

[bargarraninc]

the child of a traitorous thane; musings on sleep no more's porter

SON He has killed me, mother. Run away, I pray you! [Dies.]

— Macbeth, Act IV. 2

There is a certain beauty to the Porter's character in Sleep No More — for he exists only in the transitional space of the Lobby, a minion of Hecate meant to set up the important scenes through which the looping tragedy of Macbeth will continue to flow. Without him, Banquo is not given the letter holding his prophecy, Malcolm never learns of the falcon shot down, the prophecy cannot take place.

The Porter is loop-aware — there is a consistent deterioration in the character as the show goes on, everything becoming harder and harder for him to deal with. Throughout setting up the scene for the next magical cycle, he is well aware what his actions lead to. It is why he tries to stall Agnes from going upstairs, to where he knows she will be put through the harrowing ordeal of tear collection by Hecate. He tries to keep her safe, failing each time.

Another party that he desperately (moreso than with Agnes) tries to keep safe is Lady Macduff, the innocent murdered for sins not hers in any manner. This is the most intrusive we see the Porter — as he tries to bat off Danvers and her poisonous milk, milk he knows will render Lady Macduff incredibly vulnerable and thus easier to kill.

In Shakespeare's Macbeth, the chief character who attempts a similar, desperate protection of the Lady and who too fails is the Lady's young son. Stabbed to death by the Murderers, her son cries to his mother — begging for her to run away, abandoning him in his last minutes as to save herself from a similar fate. Reversing the traditional parent-to-child protection, the kind we see with Banquo and Fleance when they are attacked, here, the child must be the protector.

Every loop, our Porter fights off Danvers and loses, watching Lady Macduff grow weaker in the aftermath of drinking the accursed milk. He then hears her death, tortured by its violent sounds as he hides in the lost luggage space, desperately trying to distract himself. Then, everything resets again, actions supplemented by his own hands and he continues to live this harrowing loop again and again and again. Why?

In my eyes, our Porter is not only Hecate's lost child in the forest but also the lost son of the Macduff's. The child doomed to protect his mother. After all, Fife is a wooded area.

The Porter is actively putting himself through the loops, losing himself to the inertia of Hecate's endless time magic, out of a deep, child-like hope that this time, he will be able to set things aright. Maybe, it will be this loop, just one more each time, that he will be able to protect his mother from the brutal fate she suffers. Just one more try. Hope keeps him centred as he hands away the note for Lady Macbeth to Danvers, moping in the phonebooth, knowing it will restart his suffering.

There is more substance in the performance to support the Macduff Child theory —

When Lady Macduff is murdered, something he is intimately aware of and scared by, the Porter hides himself into the Lost Luggage. He leans into childish methods of comfort, making paper boats and busying themselves playing with it, even if the boat is made of a tearful letter to his tormentor that he knows will be ignored. Some Porters even tear up at the noises, cowering closer to the counter.

The Porter only emerges from Lost Luggage when not only the murderer Macbeth but Macduff too is gone. In Macbeth, the only conversation we see between Lady Macduff and her son concerns her worriation that her husband is a traitor — abandoning her and her children in a place which he himself finds too dangerous to stay in. There is little affection lost for Macduff on the end of the Porter. He waits for him to be gone, only willing to put himself through the torment if it is to comfort his mother, to give her her coat. His traitorous father, gone again to protect the son of another.

Lady Macduff's messes are cleaned up with a gentleness the Porter shows little of to the other residents (bar Boy who he is in love with) who pass like storms through the Lobby. As he collects her strewn clothes, the Porter dons them with a childish glee, resembling more than ever a child rifling through their mother's cupboard, finding something that makes them feel beautiful. The clothes are collected carefully and packed away, her coat is kept safely hooked. Her presence in the lobby, even through just her abandoned possessions, is looked after gently.

You can never know the true story behind the residents of The McKittrick — for those are secrets they keep close to their hearts, lost in their chosen silence. But, this personal retelling of the Porter's story as I understood it is one I can share easily and so I do. My poor Porter, my poor poor Porter.

[if-i-had-a-voice-i-would-sing]

Since my 7th show I’ve had brainworms about potential future Punchdrunk shows based off Greek myth & literature (there’s SO much to work with!!) and here’s an idea that I jotted down and now can’t get out of my head:

The Burnt City is based off Agamemnon and Hecuba, what if their next show was based off Medea and The Bacchae?

One show about female grief & women sacrificed for men, and the next about female madness & mothers killing their sons

- parallel scenes of Medea murdering her sons (who’d have to be aged up somewhat into adults, due to the nature of most punchdrunk productions) and Agave murdering Pentheus.

- Parallel scenes where the crimes of the women are exposed to the men in their lives (the reveal to Jason vs the reveal to Cadmus)

- Influence of Hecate vs influence of Dionysus, lots of fun contrast & similarity to be played around with here

- Reoccurring theme of women’s freedom from oppression being in the rejection of the role of ‘mother’

- Both plays are very centred around the patriarchal fear of women banding together - both choruses are female peers, as opposed to the judgemental old men of Mycenae in Agamemnon. They are people who can be confided in and relied upon by our female leads. A linked theme again of female solidarity, community organisation & radical action against the oppressor.

- Two cities again - Corinth and Thebes ; could divide them by the forest, in which bloody rites for chthonic gods take place

- Could choose to continue the Hades & Persephone lore by having them present - if tbc is her welcome home, could this be her goodbye gift? Imagine having proper Persephone/Hecate interactions. Imagine!

- The murder of Pentheus could very well be the classic punchdrunk rave scene, a lot like the blinding of Polymestor with a touch of the witches’ prophecy in Sleep No More

- Dionysus as a presence would allow for some really fun & creative setpieces - a club? A bar? A rave in the woods? All of the above? We all know how good punchdrunk’s bartender characters are!

- Because of the heavily gendered nature of the texts, the forest as a midground for gender binaries too would be so cool. In the cities there are binary rules and gender roles to be played, but in the forest gender boundaries blur and become unimportant. See: Pentheus’ crossdressing, Dionysus’ androgyny

Not really an idea or note, but I can imagine the loop for Glauce being really heartbreaking, a lot like Iphigenia’s. A young girl excited for her wedding to a famous hero, only to be horribly murdered to serve the goal of another. She was innocent in all of this, but Medea casts her aside all the same, as Clytemnestra does Cassandra. Also imagine how creative they could get with Glauce’s (and Creon’s) death! Melting & then catching on fire doesn’t seem in any way possible, but that frees up room to choreograph around the feel of the text instead, with a lot more freedom of interpretation.

Imagine being able to just follow the Maenads in the woods for a full loop. I can’t even begin to think of all the wild shit they could get up to - think of the choreography!! The ritual! The blood!!

Punchdrunk historically have portrayed complex women well - look at Clytemnestra and Lady Macbeth. These women are morally dubious and they get their hands dirty (very literally), but there is also so much compassion to the way they are shown in their more vulnerable moments, they are human and flawed yet still worthy of our attention and care. This is an approach I would really love to see for Medea, who I think is such a difficult character to get right in terms of not shying away from her more reprehensible actions, whilst still understanding her pain and turmoil.

Agave is given a lot less to do in the source material, but the great thing about the immersive format is that it allows for each character to become their own fully fleshed out person. Maids and oracles, waitresses and witches, they all get their own story *within* the greater narrative. This also goes for Cadmus and Creon, the father figures, who I think could both be really fascinating to flesh out, and of course Aegeus, whose only primary in the source is being childless and wanting to be a father. The contrast of the would-be parent vs the actual reality of parenthood.

Potential for a sick ass finale with the women of Corinth and the women of Thebes coming together in combined ritual power, the workings of Hecate and of Dionysus side by side, contrasting and connecting…

I am heavily biased because these are my two favourite Greek tragedies, and my favourite plays in general, and I would love nothing more than to see my favourite theatre company tackle them next!

[my-burnt-city]

[te-pu-si-ti]

The Burnt City - 6 Oct 2022 - Hecuba & Polymestor

I am enjoying reading write-ups people have made for Sleep No More and The Drowned Man so much, I thought I could pay it forward by writing up a show or two of my own. So for anyone who can't make it to TBC for distance, time, money, etc reasons, or just anyone who wants to experience my personal journey of this particular evening, read on.

There will be plot/loop spoilers. A bit slavishly detailed, because I don't know how to edit myself. And a mention of a 1:1 but no details of its content. Strap in, it's a long one... I didn't even fully write up Polymestor's loop, but I don't know the next time I'll follow Hecuba, so I wanted to put down as much of it as possible.

Dropping everything to go see a particular Hecuba

I had vague plans to go on this day, so long as work was quiet enough for me to slip away, until I found out that there were major disruptions on the Great Western rail lines. Slightly disappointed, but there will be other evenings and other shows... And then they released the cast list at about 4:30pm, and Fania Grigoriou was on as Hecuba, and I dashed out of the house. No regrets. My journey time was double that of normal, and I caught the very last possible train home, but I made it there and I made it home and I had a great time in between.

I got in about quarter to 7, with a black 5 as my card. It was a quiet show, which made for a perfect opportunity to follow a main character without the usual heavy crowds. In fact, there were only three people who entered in my museum group - me and a couple - Sam Booth's Hades split up the couple by making one go ahead and one stay (they waved each other goodbye, aw bless), and I was let loose in the museum on the way to Mycenae (I always seem to come out in Mycenae! Even though I usually have business in Troy).

My plan for the evening: the remainder of the first loop with Hecuba, then pick somebody else up at the blinding (maybe Kampe, to lighten the mood?), then return to Hecuba for the beginning of her loop that I missed.

I pushed through the sheet maze and was about to beeline to the tunnel to Troy, but my way was blocked by Apollo (Steven James Apicello). Don't ask me what he was doing or why, but I wasn't going to walk past him. I watched him there until he ran off, then continued on my way.

Loop 1 (partial): Hecuba

Got to Troy's main square to see Polyxena already hanging from the ceiling. My first loop with Hecuba would be all the tragic beats of her story. I was familiar enough with Hecuba and many of her scenes with other characters, but I'd never followed her specifically before. I have a bias against the main characters and their large entourages. But lucky for me this was a quiet night and I will go through hell or high water to follow Fania, regardless.

She dances through her grief, starting in Alighieri's department store, laying herself down on the same counter where her daughter will soon be laid. She reaches out vainly. Writhes in her anguish. I feel tossed right into the deep end with this as my first scene of the show, but it is beautiful and heartwrenching to watch.

She takes to the streets, anywhere, just away from here. She is very literally climbing up the walls - grabbing on to one of the overhead signs and pulling herself up - when the Shutdown happens. The music all stops for a few seconds. She hangs there. In a moment, everything resumes as if nothing had happened. She drops, and finds her way into the empty flower shop.

Flowers for the grave? Flowers for comfort? Flowers for memories of a happier time? Or maybe she was looking for Askalaphos for something stronger, but he's not in...

She's up on the counter, plucking flowers from the ceiling, then pushing her arms down over her stomach and between her legs. I am not skilled at interpreting dance, but this one is raw and shockingly literal: I gave birth to her. I pushed her into the world. She was a part of me, and now a part of me is gone.

She is cradling an armful of red blossoms when I notice Stephanie Nightingale's Luba slowly, slowly pushing through the crowd. Waiting for the right moment to talk her down.

"My son," Hecuba says finally, with hope and conviction. "I still have my boy..."

The timing is so cruel that I almost have to laugh, because she leaves the flower shop to immediately turn the corner into the tenement square. The Blade Runner music is already playing. Polydorus is gone.

She climbs up the back of the shell bed. What is she doing? Anything, anything she can. Luba does what she can to console her, but it isn't much. Polymestor is on his way, so Luba ushers her to hide behind the bed.

Hecuba staggers into the greenhouse room, screaming at a Polymestor that cannot hear her. By the time she reaches the shell bedroom, she is irrevocably crushed. So far gone that she can see all the shades surrounding her. She laughs madly in our faces. Yes, she notices us, and we are NOT helping.

"Why are they here?!"

Jude Monk McGowan's Polymestor basks in his treasure with a fetishistic zeal. He's in love with his reflection. He thinks he's won. I am hungry to see his eyes plucked out.

So is Hecuba. "YOU MONST-" she screeches before Luba can hide her behind the mirror. Hecuba is ready to rip him apart on this very spot and I support her 100%.

But she composes herself, and emerges with more tact. "Is my son safe? Have you kept my child safe?"

I've seen this scene several times, but it's only now that I have the context - she is daring him to lie to her.

"Yes, your son is safe." Wrong answer, motherfucker.

I hear 'Erinyes'. Furies. Ελάτε, ελάτε. Come.

She heads over to the nightclub office. Gazes through the window into the empty Klub, the plan forming in her head. Sits down at the desk.

She whispers something - I lean in closer to hear. But she's speaking Greek. I don't understand, but I listen.

And they do come - Luba is in her sparkly gown now, and the spirit of Polyxena too enters the room. A pounding drum-beat begins. The party has started in the other room. At first, Hecuba just watches from behind the glass, waiting. Polymestor is dancing, he still thinks he's won.

She continues, louder and with more urgency. Not begging - she is assured that they will come, so long as she summons them. They will come because that is what the Furies are for.

As her incantation builds, she climbs onto the desk, on all fours, bestial, pounding her fists. Unleashing all her righteous rage, but she can't do it alone. She will keep yelling until they come.

Three blindings in one show. I don't mind at all, I love this scene. From a banging party to an ecstatic deliverance of justice. Fania squishes the lychee-eyes, blood dripping out of them, and throws them down on the floor.

I almost stay with her to follow her again, but I restrain myself. I'll return for last loop. But at this moment I decide to follow Jude-Polymestor, crawling on the ground, pitiful, nearly trampled on. Time to see the other side of the story.

This strategy was remarkably satisfying - character A first loop, opposing character B second loop, then back to character A third loop. I got a deep dive on the story of Polymestor/Polydorus/Hecuba. I would really like to do this for Clytemnestra & Agamemnon next time.

Loop 2: Polymestor

I watched Moloch heal him, I watched Kronos put the pressure on him, I saw Hades mock him with a 'hail Moloch' gesture. I even got pulled into a cupboard with him, which gave me some food for thought.

Hecuba interrupts the dark dealings with the child-eating god to pray to Apollo. They pray together - Hecuba prays in Greek, and Polymestor prays in English. In this show and with this actress, Greek is the language of the divine. (I get that sense when Fania is the Oracle, too.)

I see Hecuba hand over her boy while the secret Moloch statue is out in full view, girl whyyyy.

And I see Polymestor telling Polydorus that he's gonna show him all the marvelous pleasures of the world that he never knew about, and it's a Fred Kampe night, so those pleasures are gay, gay sex. Right on.

And speaking of Fred Kampe, there's only one moment I lost Polymestor during the loop, and that's because I got distracted watching You Should See Me in a Crown. Again, no regrets, and I knew where PolyM would be when I came to my senses. Time for Blinding #2.

Loop 3: Hecuba, redux

Now I'm back with Hecuba, and I follow her straight past Polymestor and Persephone (that was difficult to do, ngl) to watch her reset, which I've never seen before.

(she forgets her coat on the way to the shell bedroom, confusing the gaggle of followers as she heads one way, turns back, then turns back again. Pesky props :)

She gets changed, smoothes her hair, and Polyxena on the bed is no longer dead but just soundly sleeping. Finally, finally, I get to see Hecuba happy and surrounded by her family. She kisses Chihiro on the forehead, over and over, cherishing her, as if the memories of what she's just been through were still lingering. Her girl is back, and it's her birthday, and everything is going to be OK (at least for the next 15 minutes or so). "Come on, we'll be late."

She is so full of love & pride for her beautiful, strong daughter. And Polydorus running along after, cheeky and boyish - "You're as slow as a turtle!", she teases him. These moments of light shine much brighter when I've seen all the darkness first.

This time when she hands over Polydorus, I get a frisson from the way everything fits together: I'm watching this scene for the second time, knowing full well the consequences, and from Peep downstairs I can hear Lily Persephone screaming through the end of her song: "If no one that you hurt could ever heal...! That's how broken I would be...!"

The prayer scene at the shrine to Apollo again, and then she's sat in the cafe, writing a letter in Greek; the one word I make out is that it's to Priam - Πρῐ́ᾰμε.

I see the wonderful scene with a ghostly Polydorus, I understand now it's a premonition. A beautiful performance from Ferghas Clavey, reminding me that I need to loop him properly.

(Girl... Ma'am. Your majesty. You had this premonition and you still hand your son over to Mr Child-Sacrifice-Cult? RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS MOLOCH STATUE.)

The invasion comes next. Back to Ciacco's, gathering the rest of the Trojan women, one final toast. I wish I could hear what she's saying on the other side of the glass, but I can't.

The moment the army bursts through the doors is truly cinematic. And when the soldiers arrive, she's so defiant, she LAUGHS at them. This is all you've got? But they don't need a huge army to take everything away from her.

And soon enough, I am back where I started - Polyxena is hanging, Hecuba is grieving, and I certainly can't leave her now at her moment of need. So I see the rest of the loop through.

She brushes a hand against my face in the flower shop, seeing us again. She is halfway into the realm of ghosts. In the shell bedroom after Polydorus dies, I steal a glance down from the balcony, and I notice, at the very moment that Hecuba is so utterly broken, Polyxena is resurrecting. I will her to look down, to see her daughter, though I know she cannot and will not.

Polymestor enters the bedroom again - We may have shared a brief truce and moment of understanding last loop, but not anymore. I'm ready to see him taken down for a third time.

She walks into the office and I am eager to see her on the desk summoning the furies again. But instead, she goes through the office to the hallway. She is speaking Greek again, but this time she addresses the white masks: we are the ones to come and aid in her vengeance. The shades who tormented her before are now lost souls that she must gather. She turns to each of us, over and over, ελάτε, ελάτε!

She moves with purpose, she is so powerful in this moment. Through the hallway, she grips the walls (the famous Fania Hallway Move, I never thought I'd witness it again). She fills the hall with her rage.

Through the hotel and into the streets of Troy, she thunders through, a Bitch On A Mission. She attracts the attention of other masks wandering, who join the crowd. She really does have the power to summon us.

We all spill into Troy Square, where the finale circle is beginning to form. Characters come in from all directions with their followers. I pick a spot in the circle and do not budge: I definitely want to be at the front for this. It's been so long since I had a good view at the Troy finale, I'm usually hovering in the back waiting to cross over to Mycenae.

Characters cross the circle drunkenly, Luba and Kampe weave in and out of the crowd. This, the third blinding, has an even more celebratory mood. I'm a Troy Finale convert.

In the spotlight, Hecuba bends down to touch the fallen ashes. The lights go down. One More Kiss, Dear, comes on. I expect to be ushered back to Peep, but instead we are herded through to Mycenae. It's a strange rhythm - the finale, the walkout song, and then back for another finale with the characters that I haven't spent any of my show with.

Kill the lights, again. Play the ending song, again. And it's not until we've already started shuffling out that a cautious round of applause starts. It's very interesting to see this evolving - I've had lots of shows with no applause, then some shows with applause, then another without; clearly the audience are still making their minds up about it.

A beautiful night, and finally feeling like I've got a clear perspective on one of the main stories.

[thefoolsloop]

The Burnt City - a couple of improved shows gives me a sunnier outlook

I believe I've now been to TBC more times than I went to TDM. This has nothing to do with the merits of each production: I came quite late to TDM and by the time I'd really got into it the show was nearing its end. TBC happens to be on, it happens to be (acceptably) convenient and I have a number of friends I can go with on different dates. So it just happens to work out.

So why am I still going back? First of all, as I said before, even less than perfect Punchdrunk is better than no Punchdrunk. And a couple of good shows have tilted the balance towards TBC. I still don't miss it much when I'm gone, but at least I have a good time when I'm there.

(A little spoilery below, but not much.)

In my penultimate show to date I had the pleasure of an entire loop with Milton's Zagreus. Amazingly sympathetic, his performance is warm and sincere, keeping you invested even in the downtime when he's just moving things around on the bar top. Milton generously granted me both 1:1s and the napkin interaction, and they all reinforce the sincerity of his character. This is a Zagreus with no agenda, no ulterior motive than to show his affection for Eurydice. For the final loop I transferred myself over to Eurydice (Yen-Ching Lin, much better than I had anticipated). They had so much chemistry, essential for this pair. It was good to see both sides of the same relationship - perhaps this will be a good idea going forward (Aga/Cly again, or Iph/Pat? I haven't done a full Polymestor loop yet, so maybe him and Polydorus in the same show would make sense).

My most recent show was two nights ago. I'd hoped to catch Omar's Agamemnon, but this seems to be one of the performances I'm doomed never to see. I consoled myself with a second look at Fania's Clytemnestra (still my favourite), then saw bits of Brenda's Macaria and WenHsin's Eurydice. I got a nice hug off Brenda (she really goes for it) and I'd have happily done another entire loop with her, but she went in for the 1:1 and I know how difficult it is to pick up Macaria after that.

Anyway, I diverted to Ally's Luba. I've seen Luba a fair few times because it's tended to be performers I like (Fania, Steph) and it can be a bit less popular than other loops. And I'd been wanting to see Ally in a role properly for a little while. Like all the best PD performers she has tremendous presence (not hurt by the fact she's very tall) and I enjoyed her loop very much, even consenting to accept the 1:1 for a third time. (I say 'consenting' because I wasn't too bothered whether I got it or not, but since she offered and since I was the only one there who'd been following her the whole loop, I decided it would be ungracious to refuse.)

Ally led me down to the Troy finale (I didn't even realise performers led people there, I've always been in situ long before it starts), but I went on my own to the Mycenae finale. As I watched I felt a pair of hands grasping my elbows from behind.

There's something about what I would call the "Punchdrunk Touch". You feel contact, sometimes taken by surprise, but the touch is both firm and reassuring. You couldn't mistake it for an audience member touching you. It feels like the performer is taking control of you, but in an entirely non-threatening way. I wonder how they achieve that effect - is it taught, or is it something innate in people who go on to work with PD?

Anyway, I was gently turned round to find WenHsin was my silent accompanist. Perhaps it was a consolation prize for her passing me up for the 1:1 earlier; or just good luck on my part, who knows? Of all the performers who have led me out at the end she was the loveliest, all smiles and delight, seeming genuinely delighted that I'd spent this short amount of time with her, wishing me a good evening as if she really meant it (I wouldn't be surprised if she did). I hope I can catch her Persephone one day.

I'm never sure how much the performers are still in character in the walkout. Andrea was quite intense, almost but not quite threatening. Theo was silent and maybe a little sad. Steph (definitely in character) was mysterious. Stefanie gave me a warm hug. Ryan, with a broad smile, just said thank you as if I'd offered to mow his lawn or something.

To summarise, as I become more familiar with the show it becomes like a jumper or pair of shoes that have been properly 'broken in'. I know which things interest me, which things bore me. I still know what I have left to see. I've had almost all the 1:1s I care about, pretty much all the interactions. I'll probably be going about once a month from here on (the loss of Miranda - albeit for the happiest of reasons - has dampened my enthusiasm slightly, I'll not lie). Basically I've 'settled in'. I've reached the point where I don't expect too much, I just want to get further immersed in the story and admire my favourite performers, old or new.

(Footnote: in spite of the email sent by PD before every performance, it seems that most audience members are no longer wearing Covid masks. Even a lot of the staff seem to have dropped them. I'm wondering if the 'rule' will soon be withdrawn?)

[gardenofadonis]

A phone call is all it takes to destroy a girl's life.

He puts down the phone that notified the queen about her daughter's wedding and sits down at his desk. From his little office he watches the wedding unfold. The groom standing at the altar against the light with his hands folded behind his back - an unwilling accomplice in this deception. The bride walks toward him, a bounce in her steps as she heads the long procession, her red cape swinging behind her. Soon it will not be her cape that is drenched in red. But she doesn’t know. She has no eyes except for her groom, a man who inherited his blood from the silver-footed Thetis, a godlike man. The king hides behind shadows, sacrificial blade in his hand and murder on his mind.

He leans into the back of his chair, regarding the scene before him. He vaguely remembers a letter from Nestor relating Calchas' prophesy that was delivered to the king before; he isn't sure exactly when - he's lost track of time after 10 years of tracking wind and tending to the beacon like a dog. But nothing came of it. The king, despite his great ego and air of authority, is in his core a hypocrite and a coward. He doesn’t understand what facilitated this change of heart. That mysterious phone call earlier, the haunting look on the king’s face... Those are not things for a subordinate like him to think about. He's just a man, caught between this war of gods and their offsprings - all over a woman and an oath made a long time ago.

He takes another swig of whiskey and relaxs into his seat. The groom places a ring on the girl’s finger and kisses her. How old is she again? She looks like a child, innocence untainted by the ongoing war. To his surprise, he feels nothing. The impending tragedy does not move him. If anything, the superficial theatricality bores him. What's the point? She'd die anyway. She extends her arms to hug thr groom but envelops only air - he has already left her. She turns back and sees her father approaching, with murder behind his tender eyes. The king has always been a monster underneath his the façade of a fair and capable ruler and commander - he's a descendant of Tantalus, the house of Atreus has a tradition of murdering their family members. He's heard stories since he was a child, and now he is witnessing it happen all over again.

He puts away the whiskey and heads to the barracks. There's no need to watch any longer. The prophesy is being fulfilled. It's time to sail for Troy.

[technicolorfamiliar]

Punchdrunk’s The Burnt City, Part 2/2

[FYI: My General Reactions to the show are at the beginning of Part 1.]

Here's the rest of my favorite things about The Burnt City, also in no particular order:

Further spoilers below. Also tl;dr, I clearly got carried away.

The Performance Stuff

Choreography: A lot of the movement in the show felt fresh to me, which was fun to see. The use of circles was smart in a lot of ways. Now, I don't really know a lot about the history of dance, but I got the sense that some of the shapes and gestures used throughout the show were meant to evoke ancient Greek ceremonial dance. I also really appreciated the couple of instances of choreo that directly referenced Metropolis (Robot Maria's dance) and Weimar-era dance.

Specific scenes: + Agamemnon's ascent up the staircase in the jeweled mask and the red cloak that JUST KEPT GETTING LONGER?! This is maybe the most dramatic moment in any Punchdrunk show ever, including the ones I didn't see. This single image is going to haunt me for a long time. + Troy being invaded and the blinding of Polymestor. I just really love the dynamic of Hecuba and her girl gang against these horrible men. Both scenes also had really strong dance and violence choreo. + The death of Iphigenia. I saw this scene so many times, and somehow was never bored. I loved watching it from different characters' perspectives. And the music is such a great choice. + Artemis and the stag skull. A small moment, but striking and strange. + Hecuba gives Polydorus over to Polymestor. Bizarre Tarantino vibes with the Lee Hazelwood song and the glowing suitcase of jewels.

Specific performances: + First, shout outs to: Lily Ockwell as Persephone, Fred Gehrig as Kampe, Luke Murphy as Neoptolemus, Fania Grigoriou as Luba, and Cameron Bernard Jones as Polymestor. + Sarah Dowling, Hecuba -- The first character I followed during my first visit on Thursday. The presence she has in the show is unmatched. I'd seen Sarah D.'s Lady Macbeth in the Superior Boston Production of SNM and Dolores in TDM, but she *is* Hecuba. I believe she is this person in the world of the show. Everything about her is captivating and intimidating, and her vulnerability and grief are so gut wrenching. I loved following her through the hallways and corridors of Troy with her lantern. And her scenes in the flower shop and bedroom after Polyxena's sacrifice! I'd been in the show for like five minutes and she already had me weeping. I don't think there's any other performance I've seen in Punchdrunk's work that affected me in this way so quickly. If I lived in London, I'd go back to TBC just for Sarah's Hecuba. And the other folks I'm about to mention below. + Miranda Mac Letten, the Watchman -- Who watches the Watchman? Me, it's me. Well, really both her Watchman and Polyxena, but the Watchman is the character I followed longer. On the Friday show, I came out of the museum into Mycenae and there was almost no one else around (one of the best feelings in a Punchdrunk show, amplified by the fact that the space is so vast and desolate). The Watchman was at the top of the ladder in the darkness, and I felt that thing that's so hard to articulate, the thing where you're basically hypnotized by a moment, by a character, by the atmosphere. I felt, maybe for the only time I was there, dialed into the show on a deeper level. Words don't really do the feeling any justice. But with each of these performers listed here, it has something to do with how they convey the stakes in the story, through the weight in how they move, through their expressions and the look in their eyes. They fucking believe it, and you can SEE it and you want to believe it too. It's more than remarkable. Anyway, Miranda does this and it's so goddamn good. I spent a good deal of time early in the show with the Watchman, trying not to be too close, watching most scenes from behind chain link fences. When she took off into the hinterlands, I followed. I wish I remembered the text of the 1:1 -- something about the gods and titans fighting and causing the earth to become barren, nothing will grow anymore; she put my hand in a bowl of black sand (I love the black sand) and took me into another part of the shed where a system of copper pipes sat on top of a table; she gave me some seeds and said something about resilience, things will grow again in time. And for the first time that evening, I almost lost it in front of a performer. After the 1:1, I can't remember why I didn't stay with her. But throughout the show, I kept running into this character accidentally. At the finale, I found myself on the inner most ring of audience. As the characters stalked around in a circle, drawing their hands across our throats, I could sense that the Watchman had clocked me, and I thought it was like, "Oh no, it's you again." But she fell at my feet as all the performers crumpled around Clytemnestra. As she rose, she reached for my hands for the walk out. I was both surprised and touched, honestly. To start and end my show with this performer and this character, I don't know, it held some meaning that I wasn't expecting and couldn’t have anticipated. Especially since my reactions to the show as a whole are so mixed. Long story short... Friday was a good show, the best by far. + Sam Booth, Hades -- Okay. First of all, it was just nice to see Sam B. as a generally nonthreatening character for once. As Stanford (and the Doctor) in TDM, he was utterly terrifying. But his Hades is surprisingly likable. For as pretentious as he is and how much he likes to hear himself talk, I *like* Hades. Sam B. crafted a very sympathetic, quirky, lovelorn character, and it's fascinating to see. I was tickled that he got to deliver a version of the iconic "we live inside a dream" line right at the top of the show. Perhaps weirdly, his Hades reminded me in some ways of a Vincent Price-type character. When I wasn't with the Watchman on Friday, I was with Hades (and about a thousand other audience members), and I found him totally by accident. I particularly liked watching familiar scenes from his perspective, as a witness to the same stories over and over, as a proxy for the audience itself. The direct address monologues to the audience were strange at first but they grew on me over the course of time I spent with him, as he opened up about his relationship with Persephone and how heartsick he is when she's gone or when she can't remember anything. It was wild to see Sam's Hades' vulnerability with the audience and with the other characters. There was a scene in his office, which was packed wall to wall with audience, where he was talking about love and the ability of humans and mortals to love and feel everything so deeply, and how much he loves us all for it. The whole time he's saying this, he's in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, and he pauses for a long time, just to stare at me with this look of someone who's seen so much suffering and still holds so much wonder and gratitude for the good in people. And it fucking killed me. I'd love to have a copy of his script. My only criticism is that HE WALKS TOO DAMN FAST AND WITH TOO MUCH PURPOSE. 

Well, that’s it for now I guess. I’m on the fence about sharing the things I didn’t like... Maybe I’ll write them down and then see if it reads as too mean. 

[emmastory]

it's probably not a surprise that this summer I went to london to see the same weird play several times (esp since it's not even the first time I have gone to london to see a weird play several times). I have spent pretty much every PTO day I've had with family ever since my mom died in 2019, so this was my first for-real vacation in many years and it was great, all of it, zero regrets.

the show is completely, completely my shit, tbh even more than the drowned man was. (in fact if we are friends I have probably already spoken to you way too much about how much I liked this show.) but of course the real immersive experience was the friends we made along the way.

I'm aiming to make it back in 2023, so feel free to recommend things that aren't the burnt city that I should visit or eat or do, particularly if those things are open on mondays or tuesdays. (london why are all your good cocktail bars closed on mondays!)

[asuddenalex]

I just saw The Burnt City by Punchdrunk and I am absolutely stunned. Such beautiful performances. The way they said SO much without saying much at all. Holy hell. I just. My mind is absolutely blown. I didn't realise just how much I needed to see that.