As digital content
seems to reach a saturation point, and new ways of telling stories are sought
out, the frontier of immersive theatre is a brave new world of possibility.
Sitting somewhere between art installation, theatre, and real-life
do-it-yourself adventure storytelling, immersive theatre can be created on as
large or as intimate a scale as the space and resources allow, with the
intention that no two experiences are identical. British theatre company Punchdrunk are game-changing pioneers in this
scene, and their work is nothing short of phenomenal, bringing “cinematic [levels] of detail”
to large-scale installations in often unexpected locations.
Part of The
Rocks’ Village Bizarre festival, Mongrel
Mouth’s The Age of Entitlement
is a home-grown piece of immersive theatre set in a turn of the century world where
the audience is given semi-autonomy to wander in and out of rooms, building the
(a?) narrative from the fragments and scenes we glimpse. You are invited to
follow a character and/or storyline, because the ending is purportedly in the
audience’s hands every night. The Age of Entitlement is about
power, wealth, ambitions and love, about trying to achieve your dreams in the
face of adversity, and how even the strongest and best of intentions can be
corrupted. Expanding upon the format of and experiences gained from their first
show earlier this year, The Silence Came, Mongrel Mouth’s new
production has flair and verve, but there still feels like there is a way to go
before the concept is perfected to the degree of unpredictability which the
form demands.
Set in a world
where corsets and top hats sit side-by-side with suffragettes and ardent
anarchists, it feels at times rather like a steampunk adventure, and this is
helped immeasurably by the superb atmosphere created by Jo Parkin and Shane
Roberston’s sets which utilise the building’s quirks and idiosyncrasies whilst
maintaining a freshness and uniqueness which is not hampered by the building’s
narrowness. While Alex PF Jackson’s costumes enhance the world of the story,
there could perhaps be a little more cohesion in the visual look of the world,
to ground it in one specific time (fantastical or not), as the Converse boots
perhaps don’t work as well as perhaps was intended. The production’s script
could also have been tighter and more grounded in one period, as phrases such
as ‘shut up,’ ‘idiot,’ and the frequent use of ‘fuck’ didn’t sit seamlessly
within the visual world. Christopher Page’s lighting and David Herrero’s sound,
however, worked splendidly in the intimate venue, lending it an air of magic
and forward-motion which drove the story on when it began to lag in parts.
Unfolding across
two time spans separated by twenty years – the past and present, or perhaps
present and future – the later time period, the one we find ourselves in at the
piece’s conclusion, is designated by pale white faces, red-rimmed eyes, and it
seems to obviously different to be thoroughly effective; perhaps if the overt
make-up was abandoned in favour of a more subtle and inconspicuous approach,
the story might work better. While there’s nothing wrong with the story as it
stands per se, there also needs to be a degree of trust invested in the
audience’s – or, rather, the participants’ – intelligence; don’t spell it out,
if you’ve done your job in building the world, we will piece it together sooner
or later.
Apparently
structured so it is effectively a ‘choose-your-own adventure’-type piece of
theatre, there is perhaps some way to go in the show’s development and
implementation before this is fully achieved. Sure, you might be able to choose
how you get to the end point, but it feels rather fixed as opposed to mercurial
and changeable. Immersive theatre, by its nature, is a living breathing
fully-interactive installation, where characters operate with a degree of
license to improvise and interact with their audience whilst still fulfilling
their narrative function within the story’s world. In The Age of Entitlement, with perhaps one or two exceptions, the
performers do not interact with the audiences, do not fully draw us into their
world, and as such, the live nature of the show, the very unpredictability
which it should thrive on, is slightly lost. Sure, we – the audience – voice
our support when it is asked for, but there still feels like a divide between
performers and audience, the very thing immersive theatre actively tries to
break down.
Also, there are a
few problems with sound balances – from scenes and sound design throughout the
building – which interfere with the narrative’s cohesion and intelligibility.
Scenes go on for longer than they perhaps should, after one or more
participants have left the room for another, and we are unsure as to whether
what we are left watching is ‘on-script’ or just a free rhapsody on a theme. Is
the idle chatter between performers meant to be overheard, meant to be part of
the performance; is every room ‘live’ at every moment throughout the night? Or
are there ‘dark’ spaces as the story and night progresses which are intended
and necessitated by the narrative; are we invited to go in them even if they
are empty? There are also several problems with the dynamics between
characters, in either or both of the time frames, which when clarified –
volume-wise, as well as in terms of performance and focus – could make the
performance stronger and more engaging.
As a second
production (or first, if you’re being pedantic) in a notoriously difficult form
of theatre, The Age of Entitlement is
a bold and colourful undertaking, by turns thought provoking and engaging, and
it is certainly worth investigating. There are several aspects which could be
improved or clarified in further productions, but their passion and commitment
to developing this capricious and potentially volatile form of theatre is
impressive.
Theatre playlist: 79. Opening Titles, from Oliver Twist, Martin
Phipps
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