As an immersive theater enthusiast, I often field questions from friends and family about why I’m so into immersive, and what it even is. This 4-part series is my attempt to answer those questions, at least a little bit. This is part 2, "Why do I Love Immersive Theater So Much?" You can also read part 1, ("What is Immersive Theater, Anyway"). Look for part 3 (“Immersive vs. Other Interactive Theater”), and part 4 (“Immersive vs. Traditional Theater”) in the next couple of weeks.
So why am I obsessed with immersive shows? What do I get from them that makes me seek them out and travel just to see them? There are a number of answers to this, but let’s start where I left off last time.
At the end of my last post, I said, “I want to be so much a part of the world that I forget, albeit briefly, that I don’t actually exist in it. I want to have interactions that feel genuine, even when I know that the people on the other end are actors. I want to be caught up in the action to such a degree that I feel like I’m coming up from underwater when I emerge back into the real world.” That, in a nutshell, is what I get from successful immersive shows (or sometimes from successful moments in immersive shows of variable quality). I am constantly seeking connection – with the actors, the world, the story – and when I get it, it feels like magic. I also love experiences in which I’m led somewhere, physically or emotionally, that’s unexpected or even uncomfortable (but, above all else, still safe).
Let me break this down with some examples. There are mild spoilers for the following shows: Seeing You, Malaise Airways, and Waking La Llorona (all no longer running as of July 2018). There is mostly spoiler-free discussion of Broken Bone Bathtub, which is ongoing.
One moment of connection that stands out to me, and that I reference frequently when talking to people about immersive theater, is one short scene in Seeing You, an NYC show about a small US town during World War II. I had spent the first portion of the show feeling not quite sure about it. I, along with the other audience members, meandered around, observing small scenes around the space, participating in some activities. At one point, we were part of a crowd, watching soldiers during boot camp. One soldier attacked another, calling him several homophobic slurs. The one on the losing end, young, gay, and clearly terrified, was flung through the crowd, which parted as he went. He landed on the ground right in front of me, and before I could back away, reached out his arm in an obvious request for help. I grasped it, helping him stand, and as the rest of the audience got funneled towards some other scene, the soldier boy led me a few feet away into the shadows. He stood close to me, holding on, trembling. The boy asked me for a hug and when I said “yes,” collapsed on my shoulder, crying. He whispered in my ear, “I’m so scared,” and I patted him gently, whispering back, “you can do this.” Maybe 30 seconds passed and he pulled himself together, thanked me, kissed my cheek, and went off, back to boot camp. I remained in the shadows for quite a bit longer, frozen in that moment, processing. For that little bit of time, I forgot that I was in a show, that none of this was real. Instead, I was there, with this scared bullied gay kid, offering as much reassurance as anyone could. It felt genuine and emotionally true. The interesting thing is that I didn’t find Seeing You, on the whole, to be very effectively immersive. However, this particular moment stood out as an immersive Platonic ideal.
A number of shows have left me feeling like I’m coming up from underwater and need some time to look around and figure out where I am after they end. All three of the shows I mentioned as excellent examples of immersive theater in my last post (Sleep No More, Waking La Llorona, and Counting Sheep) have had that effect, where I find myself looking around in confusion when the whole thing is over, trying to remember what’s real and what was part of the elaborate world that I was just a guest in. Another show that had a similar effect was Broken Bone Bathtub (disclosure: I’m producing the show’s Bay Area run, and thus am in no way an unbiased observer). The show casts the audience as the performer’s friends, who are helping her take a bath because she can’t do so on her own with her cast. It is an hour-long meditation on healing and community, complete with stories and conversations with the performer and each other. I came out feeling like I really did know all these people around me, and we really were a community of friends. It was a remarkably intimate experience with a group of strangers, and I found myself thinking about the things people shared long after I had gone home.
A show that was immersive, but less successful at staying with me, was Malaise Airways, which has played in various places in short stints, but which I saw in San Francisco in April of 2018 as part of the Re:imagine Life festival. It did a good job with many immersive elements. As soon as I entered, I was part of the world, and everything, including the ticket taking process, was in character. The short show itself was fully experiential as I was taken to various small cabins and given short experiences. However, the overall effect fell somewhat short on the magic that an immersive show can bring. There wasn’t enough of a narrative arc, or depth to the created world. The sets were good, but not super detailed, and I didn’t have much of an opportunity to explore them. The experiences themselves were confusing and didn’t flow logically. I enjoyed my brief experience, but there was never a point when I was fully in the world. Being a participant rather than an observer is necessary, but not sufficient, for an immersive experience to be fully immersive.
While seeing any show for the first time means relinquishing control to some extent, an immersive experience takes this up a notch. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I love the feeling of being, with my consent, taken on a wild ride. Waking La Llorona achieved this in both physical and emotional ways. On the physical side, the show consisted of actors leading the audience member through different environments, interacting with them in different ways. Several people danced with me, one with her head against my back, using me almost as a prop. Several people held my hands, gently pulled and pushed me to where I needed to go. I couldn’t see what was around any given corner and had to literally put myself in the actors’ hands in order to safely get through the experience. Emotionally, the show was just as much of a journey. The visceral reactions of the actors to me (or, rather, the character they had cast me as) revealed emotional details and prompted involuntary responses from me. The fact that it was *me* they were reacting to made everything that much more impactful. I wasn’t watching other people have emotions, I was directly on the receiving end of the interaction! The fact that I was alone with the actors throughout the entire show also significantly enhanced my enjoyment. The feeling that everything was happening *for me* is powerful and enticing!
You might be thinking that some of these elements are achievable with forms other than immersive theater. While that’s true, I believe that immersive experiences are the most effective and direct ways for the effects I’m describing.