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 4, "Immersive vs. Traditional Theater." You can also read part 1, ("What is Immersive Theater, Anyway"), part 2 ("Why do I Love Immersive Theater So Much?") and part 3 ("“Immersive vs. Other Interactive Theater.")
So, we’ve talked about what I get from immersive theater, and why I like some types of interactions and not others. However, not all immersive theater is interactive, but I still love it. So what makes non-interactive immersive theater different than traditional theater? I love traditional theater and go to quite a bit of it, but what immersive shows give me, even if they’re not interactive, is a visceral experience of existing in the situation being portrayed.
There are mild spoilers here for Rochester, 1996 (being remounted in September 2018) and Counting Sheep (not running as of July 2018).
When I go to see a play in a traditional theater, I generally expect the story to cover more time than the actual amount of time I spend at the theater. The empty space in conversations are generally cut out, the boring bits between the action are gone. Usually, this is desirable. However, those shortcuts make it harder to viscerally relate to the characters and to experience what they’re experiencing. Immersive theater is more able to tackle this by dropping its audience into the same situations as the characters.
A fantastic example of this is Rochester, 1996, an intense immersive experience that made its debut at Hollywood Fringe 2018. Broadly, the show explores the relationship between a daughter and her pastor dad, along with themes of faith, sexuality, and acceptance. The structure of the show is such that we, the audience, followed the characters in near-real time. We attended a church sermon, rode in a church van from the sermon to several locations, and followed the characters around at their home. This made the show quite long (it ran about 2.5 hours without an intermission), and gave us the experience of a pivotal day in a person’s life, in precisely the way that they lived it. We sat with the uncomfortable silences in the car, the weird family and parishioner dynamics in church, and the emotional exchanges at home, with no shortcuts to ease the way. The result was intense and uncomfortable and amazing. It’s the ultimate version of showing rather than telling. A traditional proscenium show could certainly do something similar with the script, but it would not be able to convey the atmosphere in a van or a house in nearly the same way.
Another great example of this is Counting Sheep, which I’ve mentioned before. This show was set in Kiev in 2014 and portrayed vignettes from the Maidan revolution in Ukraine. Rather than being told what happened, we were invited to experience bits of it – building barricades, making and putting up protest signs, celebrating after a wedding proposal, and mourning at a funeral, among other scenarios. The actors circulated thorough the audience, pulling us this way and that. I felt fear as we crouched under the barricades, adrenaline as we ran away from the advancing police, joy as we danced at the wedding, grief as we put roses on a coffin. I had read about the revolt before, and had seen videos, but those media did not transmit the level of emotional information that the show was able to. Again, some similar things could be done with a traditional proscenium play, but I suspect the impact would be lessened.
I want to be clear that this isn’t a knock on proscenium theater. I have been to many plays that are engaging, affecting, and thought-provoking. Good theater has an emotional impact, regardless of the format. I’m glad that immersive theater exists as another way to tell powerful stories.
This is the end of my 4-part series of my thoughts on immersive theater. What questions should I tackle next?