After The Key won the Storyscapes award at 2019 Tribeca Film Festival it was nearly impossible to make it onto the list of timed entry. But even before the announcement, it was not easy since this experience is designed for only one person. There were two identical sets built at the Virtual Arcade to accommodate two visitors simultaneously. So what made The Key so popular amongst both audiences and jury? Some might say it’s the pressing political topic. Some might like it for the successful combination of interactive VR and live performance. To me, it was an unexpected and somewhat controversial blend of fiction and documentary narratives. It took me by surprise and deeply affected me, I was in tears after the 15-minute session. I realize that I owe much of the affect to the fact that I managed to stay away from any knowledge of what this experience is actually about. Honoring the future viewer’s right to keep the suspense I advise you to not read any further if you want to keep the mystery. Otherwise, here is my account of the experience.
 |
| The Key at Tribeca Immersive. Photo by Asya Gorovits |
There are two types of “booths” at Virtual Arcade, open and enclosed. In the first type, the participants are visible to the passers-by, they are brightly decorated to advertise the experience and sometimes are the work of art by themselves, like a giant jellyfish of Drop in the Water. But there is a number of fully enclosed booths firing everybody’s imagination. They often involve actors, sets and plot twists that the creators don’t want to reveal to the passersby. But, to the side of that, the physical walls provide a safe space for the viewer, allowing for the honest, unmasked emotion and interaction. Stepping inside the tightly hugging walls might lead to a cathartic experience. The Key is one of those experiences.
When I approach the facade of the booth where The Key takes place, I can’t help but stop for a minute to study dozens of skeleton keys of whimsical design decorating the wall. The attention put into the tiniest details of the design of the physical space is impeccable. When I enter the small room I face an actor wearing a simple white dress, her hair braided, her gaze calmly focusing upon me. She doesn’t speak but I hear her voice through the speaker resting on my clavicle bones like a necklace. Her name is Anna and she shares that she has trouble remembering her past but she hopes to reconnect with it through her vivid dreams. The screenshots of them are on several screens along the walls, each is no bigger than a desktop monitor. Anna asks me if I can help to unlock her memories, and once I agree, puts the VR set on me.
I am inside Anna’s animated dreams now. I am in her house playing with her three companions, colorful and perky living “spheres” with which I am prompted to interact using a controller. The play time is interrupted abruptly and I am thrown into a series of gloomy, nightmarish scenes. In the flat and mostly monochrome reality, I face alien-looking creatures like myself and various monsters. There is not much that I can do in order to defeat them or protect other creatures, the feeling is devastating. But the nightmare ends eventually and I get a short moment of a blissful ending only to fall deeper into the despair the next minute. I learn that my little VR journey was all but a cover-up fantasy of post-traumatic stress of a refugee girl. When I emerge from the VR dream, I meet eyes with the actress again. I burst into tears as those eyes represent the eyes of all people who were forced away from their destroyed houses and counties shaken by war and violence. I sob while I swipe pictures on the screens. The images from the dreams are now replaced by the documentary black and white photos and short paragraphs of statistics. This is not the first time that I encounter this sort of information. But the way it is framed is certainly new and very impactful. As I “unlocked the mystery of the key” I am handed my own skeleton key with the word “love” instead of the bit’s usual grooves. Giving away a physical token after the experience is a great way to anchor the experience and Celine Tricart, the creator of the piece learned this lesson of immersive theatre well. It is a presentation of the piece that can use some reframing.
From the very design of the facade and a one-line description on the festival’s website, The Key starts out as a beautiful fairytale but then crushes you with real-life trauma. I found the discrepancy between the way the experience presents itself and its content somewhat ambivalent. I admit that this had a cathartic effect on me largely because the reveal of the secret was a surprise. But is it fair to assume that anybody is up to this kind of surprise?
 |
| The Key |
__________
The Key (World Premiere) – USA, Iraq
Project creator: Celine Tricart
Key collaborator: Gloria Bradbury
No comments:
Post a Comment