Last Sunday to Monday, I did three shows.
Painting Pickman’s Model, in which a monster gives an art class, discussing what monstrosity looks like and what would be needed for the monster to be forgivable/accepted (I played the monster).
Queer Renaissance, a frothy salon at a bookshop recreating the mix of liveliness and art that one might find at the original salons Strozzi, Monteverdi, and Caccini presented at (I played the frothy host, debating and duelling).
The Estate Sale of Randolph Carter, a chaotic auction of an occultist’s artefacts, while others tried to crack open a puzzle holding his true will (I played the nervous, increasingly cracking, auctioneer).
So now it’s time to reflect.
Structure Works
In news that is no news to fans of shows like Jury Games, giving people a clear social structure is an excellent tool towards helping them navigate an interactive space.
Historically, a lot of immersive interactive theatre has used genre as a tool to make space ‘grokkable’ (to use Chloe Mashiter’s term). You’re in a politics/war/horror movie, and therefore these are the expectations.
With the art class and the auction in particular, I wanted to experiment with situations where a group of people come together with known rules of interaction, even if most of my knowledge of auctions comes from Bargain Hunt.
It was rewarding. I particularly loved the quiet focus of the art class, as people diligently sketched the monstrous ghoul in a contented ten minutes before anyone asked a question. It reminded me of the best bits of being a child drawing for its own sake.
Practically, it also demonstrated that these shows achieved one of their core purposes: using structure, rather than genre, to make an interactive immersive show that felt satisfyingly interactive, but had an actor:audience ratio of 1:20 or 1:45.
The Audience And The Audience
There was a clear gradient between the shows. Painting Pickman’s Model primarily had interaction between the teacher and the student body; even though each guest had moments in the spotlight, ultimately (like many classes) the teacher was the shared point of contact.
Queer Renaissance had some audience-audience contact, with people creating absurd relationships early on, but was primarily led by the host and performers.
The Estate Sale of Randolph Carter made itself feel interactive by giving each person a ‘client’ to work for (most sharing a client), who encouraged them to make contact with other representatives to negotiate or undermine. It was very LARP-y in how much audience-audience interaction there was.
This also meant, counter-intuitively, that it required the most effort to facilitate. While the other two had clear means by which the facilitator could hold focus and keep people together, the third required the facilitator to also push people away from their own stories and work. This was partly, I suspect, due to it having been marketed as LARP-like, meaning some people came in with an expectation of freedom around defining their own identity, modes of being, and so on.
The main challenge with audience-audience relating is that it depends on the audience. Some people felt lost amid the sea of people, or perhaps too easily overruled. Even with clear goals to negotiate over, it was chaotic.
Partly also due to the geography of the space. With the Drayton Arm’s single narrow aisle for the audience, once one person stood in the aisle, it was much harder to move around the space.
Fit It In A Box
Which leads to another spatial concern. Does the show fit in a box?
Of these three shows, the one I am most likely to try and bring back is Painting Pickman’s Model, because it requires 1 performer, some paper, and some pencils. It fits very easily into a rucksack.
The Estate Sale of Randolph Carter requires over 100 sheets of A4 printing, 15 auction lots, and costume. It might have been rambunctious fun, but frankly I’ll be doing it again on commission, and including transport costs in that assessment.
Put in other terms, the former took 30 minutes to set up. The latter took about 3 hours, which is to say it wouldn’t work in a fringe festival. I am wondering about a page on my website advertising my party-scale shows, possible to hire for you and 10-20 friends to have a personalised show for your birthday.
But it was fun, and with another pair of hands to help manage things (e.g. a stage manager) would become a lot easier.
Test. The. Puzzles.
I had thought that the first part of the Sevenfold Lock (Carter’s will) was easy, because there were three different ways to get access to the invented alphabet.
Unfortunately, all three groups holding that information decided not to share it, meaning that nobody opened even the first lock within the show’s runtime (though some are cracking it by email afterwards).
As a note to myself, forever and ever: test the darned puzzles, and remember that some puzzle people are so competitive that they won’t share information unless specifically asked to.
Performance
That weekend was the first time in a long while I’ve had to play multiple characters in a short period of time, and I admit I was happy. Between monstrous, frothy, and incompetent, I covered the three ‘types’ I tend towards, all felt distinct, and audience members who came to multiple shows seemed to agree.
I think the trick was to choose poster-paint archetypes, and understand the different way in which each facilitated. The monster was sinister, commanding, and covered in blood (authority + function). The host was frothy, exuberant, and able to directly patter with people (status). The auctioneer was incompetent, increasingly scared, and desperate for help (function + pity).
It’s been a long while since I’ve got to play a sadsack, and it was nice playing one so blatant as that.
Perhaps after the Uncanny Things Trilogy, there’ll be another chance. But for now, I’m happy with how all three events went, and will sail onwards towards that Trilogy!
