Review: "Romeo and Juliet"

Shakespeare in the Parking Lot’s Romeo and Juliet takes advantage of an urban environment and features great performers.

It can be difficult to get tickets to the Public's Shakespeare in the Park—tickets are free, but they can go fast and require long waits. But luckily the great city of New York has a few alternatives to enjoy the Bard’s classics under the stars. One of the most established and beloved, the Drilling Company's Shakespeare in the Parking Lot, celebrates its 25th season with a production of Romeo and Juliet set on the Lower East Side in the early 1990s. Don’t let the “scrappy” aesthetic veer you away from this gem. Shakespeare in the Parking Lot, with its unpredictable weather, plastic chairs, and honking of passing cars, is an essential New York experience, featuring an array of great talent.  

Adam Huff and Serena Ebony Miller in Romeo and Juliet. Photo by Jonathan Slaff.

This tragedy of star-crossed lovers is often staged in the present day, or not-so-distant past, something that works perfectly here, given the urban surroundings and the sounds of a buzzing city (half the time I couldn’t tell if a piece of music or a dog’s bark was a deliberate effect or a coincidence). The Capulets are imagined as an established family on the verge of decline, and the Montagues are mobsters hungry for control of the streets. Costumes by Sofia Piccolo evoke nostalgia for the recent past and help create believable characters. Swords are replaced with knives, making for some heart-pounding combat scenes (choreographed by Frank Alfano) that unfold inches from the first row.

The cast, under the direction of Lukas Raphael, gives a high-energy, vibrant performance. There is a lot of humor and physicality, which help them deliver every witty, elaborately constructed line of Shakespeare's text. In the Drilling Company’s hands, Romeo and Juliet is widely accessible to people of various ages and walks of life without being ingratiating or condescending. This equilibrium—staying faithful to Shakespearean language while making sure that a modern, diverse audience understands his words—is not easily achieved. But while the occasional modern-day allusion finds its way in, perhaps catching some off-guard, the Drilling Company is largely successful in striking that balance.

I initially had trouble adjusting to different actors projecting at different volumes (especially when the music from the boombox overpowers them). But once the music is out of the way, it becomes easier to appreciate the range of tones, from boisterous Mercutio (Alessandro Colla), a loud young man who gets himself into trouble, to Capulet (Jack Sochet), mumbling in the beginning and spinning into violent rage once he hears that his daughter loves an enemy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Juliet’s parents (Kendra Lee Oberhauser is Lady Capulet) portrayed as three-dimensionally as they are in this production.       

Anwen Darcy's Juliet is undoubtedly the star of the show; for her alone, this production is worth the trip (and the battling of heat or rain). Excitable and moody (as befits a teenager), Darcy radiates such exuberance of youth that you can almost see the electrical charge coming out of her black-nailed fingertips. As Romeo, Adam Huff matches her energy. If the awkward staging of their final scene is a bit cramped, this doesn’t spoil the overall impression.

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Romeo and Juliet plays at the La Plaza at the Clemente Parking Lot, 114 Norfolk Street, through July 27, 2019. The running time is 100 minutes with no intermission. Performances are Thursdays through Saturdays at 7. Admission is free, donations are welcome. Seats are available on a first-come, first-served basis. Or bring your own chairs and/or blankets. No one is ever turned away. For more information visit shakespeareintheparkinglot.com.

Romeo and Juliet is by William Shakespeare. Produced by Shakespeare in the Parking Lot and The Drilling Company. Directed by Lukas Raphael. Fight Choreography by Frank Alfano. Set Design by Lukas Raphael. Costume Design by Sofia Piccolo. 

The Cast is Adam Huff, Anwen Darcy, Alessandro Colla, Una Clancy, Jake Lesh, Kendra Lee Oberhauser, Jack Sochet, Serena Miller, John Caliendo, and Samantha Sutliffe.

‘Reinventing the Prayer Wheel’ at the Rubin Museum Empowers Visitors (Review)

Examining an exhibition of interactive art, inspired by ancient Tibetan ritual 

Self-help experts say that an intention which is written down has more power than just a thought. You are forced to formulate it more carefully and reflect on it more thoroughly, which ultimately helps to figure out what you want and how to start moving towards it. This practice originates in religious traditions, including Tibetan Buddhism, where the mantras are written on scrolls and wrapped around the core of prayer wheels. An exhibition currently at the Rubin Museum called The Power of Intention: Reinventing the (Prayer) Wheel Rubin Museum, studies the phenomenon in depth and offers the visitors to solidify their own goals for the remainder of the year.         

Metamorphy. Photo courtesy of the artists.

   

Greeting the guests at the bottom of the spiral staircase in the lobby is an interactive installation, Wheel of Intentions (2019), created by Potion and Ben Rubin, and based on a concept by the Rubin Museum. It looks like an Apple-inspired version of an ancient prayer wheel: a solid, glossy cylinder reaching hip-height. A white top with a keyboard mounted on it glows with a prompt to type my intention using36 characters or fewer. After taking a minute to collect my thoughts, I type: “Learn to meditate.” After I’m done, with a spin of the wheel and a “whoosh” sound, my goal is flying up the spiral staircase, a sight equally exciting and inspiring.

I follow my visualized intention up to the 5th floor and find myself enveloped in two panoramic projection screens with other people’s intentions floating in the darkness. Some have pledged to “strive for success,” “stay in the present moment,” or “find a new path.” Some have chosen to focus on more earthly needs like “have a hot threesome” or “eat pizza.” The ever-moving swirl of anonymous intentions is reactivated every time anybody spins the wheel on the ground floor. This principle of activating your own resolution, as well as everyone else’s intentions on the digital “scroll,” is borrowed from the prayer wheel, a secret object conceptually deconstructed in the exhibition. Buddhists believe that with each turn of the wheel the mantras that it contains within are “read” and sent out into the world, making them more powerful.    

  

After my experience with Wheel of Intentions, I explore the rest of the exhibit. My visitor’s journey through The Power of Intention: Reinventing the (Prayer) Wheel takes me through five sections, each looking into a different aspect of the prayer wheel as a ritualistic object: intention and commitment, repetition, engagement, accumulation, and belief. Traditional prayer wheels of various designs are paired with the works of contemporary artists, enriching the perception of objects from both worlds. Some of the modern works run more contemplative but are engaging nonetheless. 

I dive into studying details of the intricate works of Youdhi Maharjan and get hypnotized by the ever-emerging Landscape of Belief (2012) by Monika Bravo. But perhaps the main showstoppers of the exhibition are two interactive installations: Breathless  (2012) by Alexandra Dementieva and Metamorphy (2014) by Gregory Lasserre and Anaïs met den Ancxt.

As much as it is pleasing visually, Breathless is confusing. It consists of two barrel-shaped sculptures made of “ribs” that light up whenever the key terms related to power and intention are used on the internet in real time. The source is unspecified in the description, which makes me doubt if the futuristic “tubes” are really connected to the World Wide Web and where the words like “ability,” “will,” “power,” “attempt,” and “release” come from before they appear on the display on top of the sculptures. As a word appears more frequently, more lights become active. The visitor can enter the sculpture and blow onto an anemometer which influences the illumination pattern and (as stated in the description) the art’s RSS feed. 

While the cumulative effect of people on the internet using a particular word is quite visible (more lights on the sculpture turn on), it is a little obscure how exactly the effort of a single individual ( embodied here in the breath) affects the power of the collective. “Blow it away!” yells one woman to her friend. “You are making it go away!” But why would somebody wish to blow away the word “ability”? We don’t necessarily know in which context the word is being used. Even after reading the description of Breathless thoroughly, I am still unsure about the effects my actions will have.

Metamorphy, on the other hand, was both visually stunning as well as a more fulfilling experience. The piece consists of a semi-transparent circular membrane which one can approach and activate by pushing the fabric of the membrane; I enjoyed both interacting with the art myself as well as watching other people doing it. Each touch by a visitor causes a colorful abstract projection pattern—reminiscent of mandala, a colorful geometric pattern representing the universe—to appear on its surface. The projection was paired with a deep electronic sound with each interaction. And thanks to a large mirror on the other side of the disc, the viewer could also see their reflection in the middle of the splash of color.  By taking an abstract and poetic approach (as opposed to literal and explicit), Metamorphy reflects on physical contact as a means to activate something. In the case of the prayer wheel, the spinning of the wheel ensures that the mantras are read somewhere “above.” But in the case of Metamorphy, the work of art only exists in the moment of interaction. In fact, interacting with the piece becomes a performance itself, the silent object turns into a living light-painting canvas and a musical instrument at the same time.

Before encountering the exhibit, I believed the topic of Tibetan prayer wheels to be highly specific and really a niche interest. What I found surprising at Reinventing the Prayer Wheel were the instructions embedded into the exhibits about how to work with your intentions to generate power: both within myself and my community. By setting up an “intention” upon entry, and then going through the exhibition and playing (mentally, or physically, or both) with the different mechanics” of prayer wheels, I inevitably picked up on methods of how to bring my own dreams to life: to set an intention, to commit, to engage repeatedly in a physical action, to accumulate others, and to believe. As for working on my personal intention, I downloaded an app for meditation immediately after I came home from the museum and am happy to report my inconsistent but steady progress.

(This review was published on NoProscenium.com on June 28th)

Review: “Unmaking Toulouse-Lautrec”

A site-specific biography of Toulouse-Lautrec combines cabaret and immersive theatre to create an atmosphere of Moulin Rouge in the late 19th century.   

I am submerged in the dim red light from the moment I enter Madame X, a downtown bar lounge—what a perfect site for Bated Breath Theatre Company’s Unmaking Toulouse-Lautrec, a show that celebrates the French artist and his famous hangout spot, the Moulin Rouge. A large elongated upstairs lounge offers red velvet couches and leopard puffs for guests to sit on. And while there's a bar that guests are encouraged to frequent during the performance, nobody wants to walk across “the stage” and disturb the action, so most don't take advantage.

Sean Hinckle and Nicole Orabona in Unmaking Toulouse-Lautrec. Photo by Mia Aguirre.

This is where Unmaking Toulouse-Lautrec misses the mark a little—it doesn’t quite succeed in being fully immersive (except for the very last scene). Despite the somewhat unconventional seating, the division between the audience and the action is in place. Yet even so, the show still might be of interest to audiences seeking a more intimate theatrical experience, especially for those who like fine art.

 

The show, devised by members of the company, consists of a couple dozen vignettes based on Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s biography. It's essentially a memory play with a collage structure, where some parts are more successful than others in clearly conveying both the factual biography and emotional state of the artist. One of my favorite scenes was the dance of the artist’s parents Adele (Nicole Orabona) and Henri (Sean Hinckle), one that combines choreography and spoken word to create a palpable sense of passion and pain. Being first cousins, they blamed themselves for Henri’s genetic disorder, one that stopped the growth of his legs when he was a teenager. But Bated Breath relies too much on background knowledge of the protagonist's life; those without such deep knowledge might miss some things. At least there are prints of Toulouse-Lautrec's works all over the room to refresh memory.

The fine-tuned choreography (consultant Tara O’Con) blends dance with everyday ritual, making for some of the most memorable moments, like the recurring scene of Henri drinking tea with his mother. There is also can-can dancing and dirty songs galore. Much like Toulouse-Lautrec's art, Unmaking Toulouse-Lautrec combines both high and low, creating a stimulating cocktail of genres where you might well have no idea what’s going to happen in the next scene. The inventive use of props underscores how effective even the simplest theatre magic can be, whether it's an umbrella imitating a bird's flapping wings, a marionette emerging from under Adele’s crinoline, or boxes lit from within.

If only the production made use of the resource that is the audience. Unmaking Toulouse-Lautrec is framed as a funeral wake for the artist, where folks reminisce and remember, hence the collage structure. The audience members are meant to be attendees, but this only becomes evident at the end. After the turmoil of flying skirts, we return to the wake, and short glasses of white wine are passed around for everyone to drink to the departed artist (although perhaps the artist's own Earthquake cocktail—half absinthe, half cognac—would have been even more suitable). Unfortunately, it is not until this moment when the audience is finally engaged directly, and invited to the story.    

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Unmaking Toulouse-Lautrec plays at Madame X, 94 West Houston Street, through August 7, 2019. The running time is 1 hour with no intermission. Performances are Wednesdays at 7 and 9. Tickets are $35 general admission, $25 bar/standing, and are available at unmakinglautrecplay.com.

Unmaking Toulouse-Lautrec is Devised by Bated Breath Theatre Company members: Mia Aguirre, Derya Celikkol, Marisa Gold, Sean Hinckle, Allison Houser, Matt Mastromatteo, Nicole Orabona, David Raposo, and Lauren Winigrad. Directed by Mara Lieberman. Choreography Consultant is Tara O’Con. Production Design by Derya Celikkol. Sound Design by Nathan Leigh. Costume Design by Gail Fresia. Stage Manager is Sophia Leewah.

The cast is Sean Hinckle, Allison Houser, Nicole Orabona, David Raposo, Derya Celikkol, and Lauren Winigrad.  

(This review was published on theasy.com on July 25th)

Review: "Convention"

Events of the 1944 Democratic National Convention are brought to life by a cast of forty in this immersive play.

In response to the 2016 election, playwright Danny Rocco dug out a “true-and-overlooked” episode in history—the 1944 Democratic National Convention—and turned it into an epic theatrical reenactment with forty actors, opening just in time for the Democratic presidential debates. Rocco’s goal of educating the audience about political history is truly noble; whether it has been achieved is another question. I entered the theatre knowing nearly nothing about this historical precedent, but left feeling confused and alienated. On the other hand, my companion, who knew all the main political players, enjoyed the show more, although he was disappointed that many liberties were taken with rendering some of the characters. 

Claire Anderson in Convention. Photo by Ahron R. Foster.

To sum up the main intrigue, during the 1944 convention there were two candidates for vice president, Harry Truman and current Vice President Henry Wallace. Coalitions formed, each gathering separately in the locked theatre to pledge their allegiance and develop strategies for manipulating the party-mates. Even though Franklin D. Roosevelt had already expressed his support for the moderate Truman, the hope was still strong for the allies of Wallace, a popular progressive candidate often accused of being a communist sympathizer. And this was an important vote: Roosevelt’s health was in rapid decline, so choosing the vice president likely also meant choosing the next president. 

The audience for Convention is thrown right into the middle of the action, both narratively and sonically. The show starts with Wallace (Claire Anderson) trying to speak over the roaring tributes, an absolutely mad scene that lasts for a few minutes and conveys the full sense of attending the real convention. Dialogue takes place on stage, in the orchestra, and in the second-floor gallery, often simultaneously. At times it is impossible to hear a single word, which can be frustrating, but if clearly done deliberately. Collecting the information from bits and pieces of dialogue, some of which happen at an arm’s stretch, feels very true to life, where as much as you try, you are unable to grasp the entire picture. 

That said, many key scenes are staged with the intention of sounding loud and clear. Director Shannon Fillon does an amazing job of conducting the “orchestra” of forty characters: the timing of this massive “machine” is impeccable. But as much as the actors try to convey a wide variety of three-dimensional characters, I wished we were given more historical background on some of them, at least the featured ones. While including this in the play's text itself wouldn't have worked, this information could have been included in the marketing materials. The headshots of actors are hung next to the historical figures they portray along the staircase leading to the theatre; placing these in the electronic program or on a website alongside bios of these real people would improve the audience's experience.

But my lack of historical knowledge didn’t spoil the evening. The array of colorful characters, cast gender-and-race-blindly, is never dull to watch. Rocco masterfully mines absurdity out of comedic bits (the enterprising hot dog salesman who permanently parks his cart on the stage) and also reveals the darker side of the joke (a sandbag hitting one of the delegates). And although the production isn’t fully immersive, it is certainly quite atmospheric. Convention is a perfect match for the Irondale: the carefully preserved shabbiness of the former Sunday school, with fragments of religious text on the walls, is a perfect backdrop for the scene of Jackson’s sudden realization of God’s calling. Even the absence of air conditioning helps us better imagine a hot day in Chicago in July of 1944.

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Convention plays at Irondale, 85 South Oxford Street, Brooklyn, through June 29, 2019. The running time is 2 hours with an intermission. Performances are Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays at 8; Saturdays at 3 and 8. Tickets are $18 and are available at irondale.org. For more information visit brontosaurushaircut.com.

Convention is by Danny Rocco. Directed by Shannon Fillon. Set Design by Taylor Friel. Lighting Design by Erin Feil. Sound Design by Megumi Katayama. Costume Design by Jen Raskopf. Stage Manager is Elizabeth Hathaway Emond. Produced by Brontosaurus Haircut Productions.

The cast is Brandt Adams, Ashley Alvarez, Claire Anderson, Christina Bottley, Paul Blaise Corning, Charles Everett, Alaina Fragoso, Kyle Fitzpatrick, Ginnie House, Greg Hudson, Matt Hurley, Nina Kova, Michael Leon, Kathleen Littlefield, Sue Kim, Ally Musmeci, Michael Pantozzi, McLean Peterson, Catherine Pulley, Jessica Rogers, Becca Schneider, Danny Serpati, Lizzie Stewart, Sarah Sutliff, and Adrienne Witt.

(This review was published on theasy.com on June 25th) 

Tribeca Immersive 2019: "The Key"

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

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The Key (World Premiere) – USA, Iraq

Project creator: Celine Tricart

Key collaborator: Gloria Bradbury

Duration: 15 minutes

(This review was published in Meniscus Magazine on 6.16)

Tribeca Immersive 2019: "Into the Light"

At Tribeca Virtual Arcade the majority of experiences use VR. That’s why I was surprised when upon approaching Into the Light I wasn’t offered a Virtual Reality headset. Instead, I am handed noise-canceling headphones and an iPhone with Traverse app on it. Although this site-specific experience by Jessica Brillhart and Igal Nassima has a visual component, it is mostly an auditory journey through Bach’s “Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 2 in D Minor,” performed by the legendary cellist Yo-Yo Ma, and through multiple levels of Spring Studios, the festival hub.

Into The Light at Tribeca Immersive. Photo by Asya Gorovits

Within the small group of five participants and accompanied by the guide we embark on an exploration of the soundscape, which starts from the dimmed space of the Virtual Arcade itself, winds through the monumental iron-cast staircases and ends with a breathtaking view of Tribeca from the rooftop. At each location we are supposed to scan a marker, either held by our guide or mounted on the wall, to start a new musical chapter. 

By holding the phone vertically we can enjoy the dynamic AR art by Sougwen Chung, weaved into the actual physical space. By holding the phone horizontally we can see the dot representing Yo-Yo Ma in each location. Moving towards or away from the musician allows us to experience sound as phenomena, occupying certain space, a concept so simple and yet so fresh. As I move closer to the epicenter, the music gets louder. Until finally something quite phenomenal happens. Once I line up with the cello, I can clearly hear the sound as if I am inside the instrument, enveloped by its wooden walls. But if I make a half step sideways I suddenly hear somebody else's heartbeat and it becomes evident that I am inside of Yo-Yo Ma’s head!                  

Into the Light offers a radically new way to experience music. It allows the listener to interact with it by regulating the special relationship with its source. And although the famous cellist isn’t physically there, the spatial recording provides a strong sense of his presence. Combined with abstract AR artwork, the experience opens new and exciting ways to experience the familiar. Even the movements of the members of our group became performative. Cued by the flow of the music and visuals, as well as graceful motions of our guide, we glide through space as if we are dancers, regardless of everybody’s choreographic background. What a beautiful way of collective listening! My only regret is the short length of each part and the necessary pauses between them to scan the next marker. This somewhat removes the listener from the immersion and will hopefully be addressed as Brillhart’s spatial audio design technology develops.

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Into the Light (World Premiere) – USA

Project creators: Jessica Brillhart, Igal Nassima

Key collaborator: Yo-Yo Ma

Duration: 25 minutes

(This review was published in Meniscus Magazine on June 5th)

Tribeca Immersive 2019: "Traitor"

Some of the most interesting experiences that I had the chance to encounter in Virtual Arcade, Immersive branch of the Tribeca Film Festival, use VR technology only as one of the narrative devices. One such experience is Traitor, the brainchild of Pilot Theatre and Lucy Hammond. This espionage thriller for two audience members and two performers combines live action, interaction, puzzle-solving, and Virtual Reality and is incredibly successful in meshing them.   

Traitor at Tribeca Immersive. Photo by Asya Gorovits

As soon as my partner and I enter the room we are immediately put to work. Without skipping a beat, Commander Harris announces that we are the new recruits of the Digital Espionage Division on a mission to find a teenager spy Emma McCoy, who disappeared eight hours ago and might be in great danger. We must find her quickly and have to act in complete secrecy. In a rapid and tense voice, the commander points out the evidence attached to the case. The content of Emma’s backpack is arranged on the shelf in zip-lock bags. The maps of the locations across Great Britain connected to the case are displayed on one of the stands. The most promising clue is a thumb drive with a game that was found among Emma’s belongings and we are offered to begin with it. 

My partner puts on the VR set. But the simple-looking game of rolling the ball into a target is not so easy for him because the controllers that allow to move objects in the game are under my fingers. By pushing buttons and joysticks on a massive black console I can clearly do something but I can’t see what exactly. So my partner and I have to communicate to each other what he sees and what I do in order to be efficient in solving the riddles. At some point, we switch and now I am doing my best to be descriptive of what I am seeing in VR while my partner assists on the console.   

The puzzles are not too difficult to figure out and there is a second actor in the room with us who gently directs our attention in the direction of the answers if we falter. But the time is ticking and Commander Harris pops in occasionally to check on our progress in her uncompromisingly demanding manner. As we progress in solving the case of a disappeared teenager, we find new layers to it and soon are faced with a dilemma: do we finish the job that we were hired to do or do we follow our own instinct? The decision was made unanimously. 

Traitor is swift and intense. The half-hour flies by incredibly fast and it feels packed; not only because of the number of puzzles that you need to solve, but also due to the sense of urgency conveyed through live performances and the ticking timer. Only by working together can the participants solve the puzzles and thus move the story along. There are moments where each needs to lead and the other one needs to follow. Each position, be it in the “parallel dimension” of VR or by the console, provides a set of clues, and only by piecing them together can the whole picture be assembled.

It was especially interesting to go through Traitor with a complete stranger. I noticed that I got impatient when my partner wasn’t describing what he sees in VR clearly enough. But by design of Traitor, I couldn’t do anything on my own so I had to put my ego aside and do my best at spotting my partner and “back leading” in this dance. Besides being an entertaining and thrilling political drama, Traitor also reminds its participants about the importance of tolerance in an attempt to work on something together.

Traitor

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Traitor (World Premiere) – UK

Project creators: Pilot Theatre, Lucy Hammond

Key collaborators: Matt Stuttard Parker, Richard Hurford, Rebecca Saw, Lydia Denno, Jonathan Eato.

Duration: 30 minutes

(This review was published in Meniscus Magazine on May 27th)