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I shan’t spoil the “lift speech” for those who have yet to visit a punchdrunk show, suffice to say that it is a taster of what’s in store to come. To make one at ease, flatter, and just when you think you have it all sussed, then put you right back to the beginning at the last moment. At the end of my first lift I exited through what appeared to be Long John Silver’s washing (?!) and found myself rounding a corner where I had a choice…. Left? Or right? I chose right as right can’t be wrong, right?! I think the first thing that hits you which only someone who has been to a punchdrunk show will instantly understand is the smell. The scents are the unsung heroes of any punchdrunk production. And some of those you will never forget and crave on what appears to be a fortnightly basis. They are so specific that closing your eyes and inhaling either lava rock, thunderstorm, laundromat or Russian leather will transport you instantly to a time and character you associate with it. As would the overwhelming smell of tcp I would encounter on a later visit! For me? I was to discover later that it was thunderstorm that was adding to the experience of wandering through trees. Wood chips at my feet mixed with dirt and earth. A church - something I completely missed as I was being drawn towards a caravan park of sorts and beyond that a bar. A part of the studios I would fall deeply in love with. Who knows? If I had been kicked out of the lift in the basement that fortune would have favoured me somewhat differently and my “home” would be the studios. But for me? Personally? It would always have to be the town. That little (yet surprisingly large!) street with cleverly positioned park benches to encourage those who are less fortunate where direction is concerned to actually take a moment. Stop. Look. Listen. Some words of wisdom imparted on me not only by the “green cross code” man, but also by my friend which I heeded many times. A fountain. A real fountain. On what I was to later realise was several floors up (positioned in the middle of the set also - no mean feat!) was to become a particular favourite haunt. It all added to part of the magic and to enable me to let the dream descend.

#thedrownedman #templestudios #templepictures #punchdrunk #immersive #theatre #demeter

In a group of no more than 15 or 20 we are closed off. Herded into a room. A disembodied voice resonates telling us where we are and why. It is the wrap party for “The Drowned Man” - cockiness mixed with fear causes first timers (myself included) to play with the mask and whisper to my friends. It is clear as to who is in the same boat by the glares we receive from those who have donned their masks swiftly and are eagerly awaiting their “communion” As I regain my composure from my momentary lapse the words start to slowly have more meaning. That we are to leave our friends. Make our own path. Be brave and ultimately that our “bearing shapes [y]our fate” These are words that are cleverly left until the end. As they clearly have the deepest meaning. The lift door opens and the dream begins

#thedrownedman #templestudios #templepictures #punchdrunk #sleepnomore #theatre

No one can prepare you for the first trip to Temple Studios - no matter what ones motives might have been for going there. A piece of theatre? A inquisitive glance at something everyone appears to be going on about? A dare? To shut someone up who has become “obsessed” and insisted you go? It doesn’t matter. Whatever the reason - no information, no hints, nothing and nobody can explain the feeling you get the first time you happen upon something that simply “shouldn’t be there” No. Not here. Not in this building. An immense cavernous black hole in the heart of Paddington. Dark and brooding. To me it looked like a larger version of my high school. So naturally I fell on the side of not being oh so keen to enter. The embarrassment of being made to line up outside - to further propel the fascination of getting an early lift…. Wtf?!! I actually actively fought wanting to go. Until a ticket was bought for me and the decision was literally taken out of my hands. - how apt that it should be that way on the outside… Because “inside” it is exactly that attitude that will steer your path and journey towards the best show that three hours can give you. To relinquish your belongings at the door. My bag. My phone - which never leaves my side. My coat. Why? They are mine! But now? I see. It’s not for security. It’s not for ease. It’s a mental adjustment. To make one leave behind those simple items that we think make us who we are. Give us our identity. Sent through a darkened maze to confuse us further and then a mask in order to become anonymous. By this point even the most sceptical would be hard pushed to not hit the invisible “fuck it” button and see what lies beneath. And beneath? Beneath is where it’s at.

#thedrownedman #templestudios #templepictures #punchdrunk #theatre #sleepnomore