Sleep No More- A Really Long Review From What Should Be a Fashion Blog

I was considering not doing a review of the widely-acclaimed production Sleep No More, considering how many others have done such thorough reviews, but it’s been over 3 weeks and my mind is still floating with images of murder, treason, and witchcraft.

Photo via the New York Times.

A short synopsis: Sleep No More, a creation of London based theatre group Punchdrunk Emursive, is an interactive performance piece that takes place in a series of abandoned warehouses in Chelsea. The audience are free to move about the sets as easily as the actors, and drawers, desks, even seemingly “off limits areas” are fair game for the audience to explore, infiltrate and discover.

At the suggestion of many reviews and blog posts, my friends and I arrived early, and not without a few strong drinks in our systems. Going down a long, dark hallway, we ambled into coat check (mandatory) and were given our hotel “room key”. From there we were led up a blindingly dark staircase. Once we finally made it to the lounge, we were greeted by a few flirty waitresses in a cabaret style lounge. The wait staff and performers were dressed in early 20^th century garb: flapper dresses for the women and stylish waistcoats for the men. Choosing a small table near the piano, my friends and I sat down to compare “room keys”. Which were in fact stylized playing cards. Of the three of us, there was a 5 and two 4’s. I switched my four of spades out for a five of hearts— my two friends didn’t look so keen on the idea of being split up, but with my inhibitions lowered, I was in the mood for adventure. We were offered a shot of Absinthe “for the nerves” from one of the roaming waitresses; no sooner did we oblige, and they were calling people in to the hotel. My friends made a hasty exit, downing their drinks with gusto. Waiting for my number to be up, I went back to enjoying the soulful voice of the smooth jazz singer.

“Would all guests bearing the 5 card please step this way.” I anxiously followed the porter into an adjacent room, along with 10 or so other audience members. The door locks behind us and a slender, ethereal woman, introducing herself as Celeste, explains the ground rules as she and her cohorts hand us the now- iconic white, Venetian masks. “No speaking, don’t take off your mask, and if you need guidance, the black-masked people are your angels”. Easy enough for my wandering, excited, and more-than-a-little-inebriated mind to grasp.  We’re led into a freight elevator, and whisked away to several destinations.

The mask and the hotel playing card. I kept mine as souvenirs.

The elevator stops on different floors, and you can more or less get out whenever you choose (unless you’re let out on the fabled “Sixth Floor”, in which case you’ll be the only one permitted and the first to experience one of 16 different “intimate moments” with the cast). I wait until the very end, and am let out on the fifth floor. The actual play won’t begin until all the guests arrive (there are staggered arrival times in order to keep the intimate and foreboding tone of the show), so I immediately begin rummaging through drawers. I find letters addressed from Lady Macbeth to Macduff, an entire floor that appears to be a mental hospital, and a particularly frightening nursery with headless dolls suspended from the roof. Just as I am wondering what to make of this, I stumble into a room in which Lady Macbeth herself is locked behind a glass window. After much banging, but little screaming (spoken word is not a huge factor in this production), she exits the room and most of the audience follow her. Not wanting to fight a crowd, I elect to stay in the room and examine the dirty bathtub, stained in fake blood. I am soon distracted by a noise in the distance, and now have another actor to follow.

Much of the next 3 hours went along like this, stories of one actor weaving into another, themes playing over and over again, the entire scene resetting itself after an elaborate dance in the ballroom. Most reviews recommend picking one character and sticking with them the night, but I found this to be next to impossible. I followed one woman (a witch) for a short period of time, and often found myself in a dead run just to keep up. I instead resigned myself to taking in as much of the scenes as I could, and examining the smaller details.

Eventually, the mind begins to piece together the dreaded tale. That room back there with the dismembered dolls floating above a baby crib? Symbolism for Lady Macbeth’s ruthless murder of the MacDuff children. That abandoned room with the elaborate tented bed? Soon to be the scene of the crime; the murder of Banquo takes place here among the decorative pillows. The acting was surreal, the costumes stained by the dancers movements through blood, whiskey and tears. As you piece together the story of Macbeth for yourself (or not: a knowledge of the Scottish play is not a prerequisite for enjoying the impeccable costumes, flawless dance moves, and attention to detail brought to the scenery), you are taken captive in a world that becomes as real as the dirt smeared across the bedding.

Memorable moments:

• The death of Banquo was incredibly chilling, and one of the few times words were uttered throughout the play. The scenes following were well performed, and the cast’s anguish was acutely felt.
• The Candy Room! I was very pleased to find a room full of sweets to munch on, particularly since I came across it two hours in and dinner was so far behind me.
• The Final Act. I couldn’t help but let out a short gasp, truly out of fright, once the final banquet was over. Most of the audience stood in complete silence for 5 or more minutes before the confused clapping started, and to me that is the mark of a truly touching theatre experience.

What I would change:

• I was less than thrilled that coat check was not only mandatory (I don’t trust coat checks, and my bag was really small), but at a cost. If you are charging $85 for an event, and insist on having guests leave their things behind, the very least you can do is offer to store them for free.
• The hotel was too dark to begin. I understand the atmosphere is necessary, but slowly lowering the lighting in each room leading up to the lounge would have prevented myself and others from spending five or more minutes trying to go through the wrong door because the path wasn’t clearly lit. This was all before the masks, so it wasn’t really necessary to the atmosphere.

I consider the experience to be one of my defining moments of my time in New York, and I am already itching to return. After the night’s events, I reunited with my friends in the hotel lounge, where we traded stories.  One of the girls was gifted a necklace from a Witch, the other was entreated to assist Macbeth in his ritualistic dressing. We walked home together, sharing our stories and realizing that though we had set out to see the same play, we each came back with a slightly different idea of how things had unfolded. These minor discrepancies, while physically placing us apart, brought us together in the end.

The charm from the necklace my friend was given. She added it to her bracelet.

Movie Night in Bryant Park

Bryant Park is one of my favourite places to go in New York. Home to the New York Public Library, a carousel, a chess room and free reading room, the park is also known to hold free classes, concerts, and movie nights. While I'm usually too busy at work to enjoy the classes (most of which take place during the day or at lunch hour), I did manage to take in one of the movie nights with some friends. They were screening The Wizard of Oz, which was an incredibly fitting (and painfully heartbreaking!) goodbye movie for one of the girls headed back to England. This was also my first time ever seeing the film in full, so it was a nice setting for such a great classic.

True North Calling Me Home.

So much for actually having time to blog and post about it! I've been in the city for over 2 months now and regrettably, this is my first blog post since getting off the plane. I'm not sure if it's because I've been too busy at work, or because I simply don't have much to say. Some combination of the two.

The View from my Midtown Apartment

When I first arrived I must admit I was a little disappointed by New York. Everywhere I've lived up until now has been relatively clean. Vancouver is incredibly clean, and the only time I've ever even witnessed littering was during fireworks or some other huge event (still, shame on you! Is it that hard to take your trash home with you?). I was expecting New York to be quite a bit dirtier by definition, but nothing could have possibly prepared me for this:

I'm appalled that some people take so very little pride in the place they live!

So yes, the city does take some getting used to, even after all my careful planning and deliberating. I found that once I left midtown Manhattan (or just Manhattan in general), everything gets a little more exciting and a lot less touristy. Brooklyn is quite clean, and the one time I went to Queens I had no complaints. Central Park is of course beautiful, but nature doesn't just wander up and find you here like it does back home. You have to make more of an effort to find it. And the more time I spend without nature, the more I find I need it in my life.