The Fool's Loop

A blog dedicated to Punchdrunk's production, 'The Drowned Man' - and more besides.

[sufferingfeels]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐘 The Last Supper /  The Garden of Gethsemane / Jesus Is Condemned To Death / He is Made To Bear His Cross /  He Falls The First Time / He falls for the Second Time / He Falls for The Third Time / Veronica Wipes Jesus’ Face

[thefoolsloop]

I keep wanting to ask the cast members how they were not absolutely freezing to death in that water.

[thefoolsloop]

The Burnt City - a couple of improved shows gives me a sunnier outlook

I believe I've now been to TBC more times than I went to TDM. This has nothing to do with the merits of each production: I came quite late to TDM and by the time I'd really got into it the show was nearing its end. TBC happens to be on, it happens to be (acceptably) convenient and I have a number of friends I can go with on different dates. So it just happens to work out.

So why am I still going back? First of all, as I said before, even less than perfect Punchdrunk is better than no Punchdrunk. And a couple of good shows have tilted the balance towards TBC. I still don't miss it much when I'm gone, but at least I have a good time when I'm there.

(A little spoilery below, but not much.)

In my penultimate show to date I had the pleasure of an entire loop with Milton's Zagreus. Amazingly sympathetic, his performance is warm and sincere, keeping you invested even in the downtime when he's just moving things around on the bar top. Milton generously granted me both 1:1s and the napkin interaction, and they all reinforce the sincerity of his character. This is a Zagreus with no agenda, no ulterior motive than to show his affection for Eurydice. For the final loop I transferred myself over to Eurydice (Yen-Ching Lin, much better than I had anticipated). They had so much chemistry, essential for this pair. It was good to see both sides of the same relationship - perhaps this will be a good idea going forward (Aga/Cly again, or Iph/Pat? I haven't done a full Polymestor loop yet, so maybe him and Polydorus in the same show would make sense).

My most recent show was two nights ago. I'd hoped to catch Omar's Agamemnon, but this seems to be one of the performances I'm doomed never to see. I consoled myself with a second look at Fania's Clytemnestra (still my favourite), then saw bits of Brenda's Macaria and WenHsin's Eurydice. I got a nice hug off Brenda (she really goes for it) and I'd have happily done another entire loop with her, but she went in for the 1:1 and I know how difficult it is to pick up Macaria after that.

Anyway, I diverted to Ally's Luba. I've seen Luba a fair few times because it's tended to be performers I like (Fania, Steph) and it can be a bit less popular than other loops. And I'd been wanting to see Ally in a role properly for a little while. Like all the best PD performers she has tremendous presence (not hurt by the fact she's very tall) and I enjoyed her loop very much, even consenting to accept the 1:1 for a third time. (I say 'consenting' because I wasn't too bothered whether I got it or not, but since she offered and since I was the only one there who'd been following her the whole loop, I decided it would be ungracious to refuse.)

Ally led me down to the Troy finale (I didn't even realise performers led people there, I've always been in situ long before it starts), but I went on my own to the Mycenae finale. As I watched I felt a pair of hands grasping my elbows from behind.

There's something about what I would call the "Punchdrunk Touch". You feel contact, sometimes taken by surprise, but the touch is both firm and reassuring. You couldn't mistake it for an audience member touching you. It feels like the performer is taking control of you, but in an entirely non-threatening way. I wonder how they achieve that effect - is it taught, or is it something innate in people who go on to work with PD?

Anyway, I was gently turned round to find WenHsin was my silent accompanist. Perhaps it was a consolation prize for her passing me up for the 1:1 earlier; or just good luck on my part, who knows? Of all the performers who have led me out at the end she was the loveliest, all smiles and delight, seeming genuinely delighted that I'd spent this short amount of time with her, wishing me a good evening as if she really meant it (I wouldn't be surprised if she did). I hope I can catch her Persephone one day.

I'm never sure how much the performers are still in character in the walkout. Andrea was quite intense, almost but not quite threatening. Theo was silent and maybe a little sad. Steph (definitely in character) was mysterious. Stefanie gave me a warm hug. Ryan, with a broad smile, just said thank you as if I'd offered to mow his lawn or something.

To summarise, as I become more familiar with the show it becomes like a jumper or pair of shoes that have been properly 'broken in'. I know which things interest me, which things bore me. I still know what I have left to see. I've had almost all the 1:1s I care about, pretty much all the interactions. I'll probably be going about once a month from here on (the loss of Miranda - albeit for the happiest of reasons - has dampened my enthusiasm slightly, I'll not lie). Basically I've 'settled in'. I've reached the point where I don't expect too much, I just want to get further immersed in the story and admire my favourite performers, old or new.

(Footnote: in spite of the email sent by PD before every performance, it seems that most audience members are no longer wearing Covid masks. Even a lot of the staff seem to have dropped them. I'm wondering if the 'rule' will soon be withdrawn?)

[thefoolsloop]

The Burnt City - half growing on me

I've lost count of how many shows I've seen - might be thirteen or fourteen, exceeding my quota of SNM (across both countries). Spoilers follow (sorry, don't know how to do a page break in new Tumblr). .

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. Why do I keep getting pulled back? Obviously it's Punchdrunk - that helps. But also the Troy area still tugs on me for its atmosphere and 'PD' feeling. This feels like home territory, reminiscent of The McKittrick in its looping maze of tiny rooms (not to mention the frustration of being stuck behind a crowd in a narrow space), bedecked with an intricate variety of production design. I'm finally developing a feeling of a relationship with the characters, and I've been able to see several performers in the same role. Incidentally is there more chopping and changing among the cast than there were in previous productions? I know of a couple of performers who have taken on eight roles. Anyway, there have been many highlights along the way: sharing a rendition of 'It's a Lonesome Old Town' with Steph's Eurydice, a moment of intimacy better than any 1:1; Miranda's Polyxena dipping her hand to my ear and pulling out a tiny light; two angles on Polyxena's sacrifice (both in the square and from Hades' office); the wonderful goodbye scene between Hecuba, Polydorus and Polymestor, a tender moment undercut by a sinister layer below; the various interpretations of Luba: Steph carefree and flighty, Fania resentful and self-indulgent, Omar full of barely concealed rage; the lovely, joyous dance on the disco floor between Zagreus and Eurydice. And of course the entire Hades/Persephone 'loop', surely the company's greatest achievement. (Speaking of Fania, is there a finer performer on Punchdrunk's books right now? The breadth of talent she has, the way she fully lives inside her character, the range of emotions she's capable of conveying with only a slight alteration in her appearance, that incredible face with its piercing eyes. Having met her offstage I know how sharp a wit she has, how good-humoured she is, and how natural and unpretentious she can be in real life. Miranda will always have a special place in my heart simply for Romola, but Fania is fast becoming my favourite performer to watch.) Being a PD regular, and with so many performances under my belt, it's not surprising that I've had a few 1:1s and they really do help to deepen one's understanding of the narrative. Some have been more successful than others, but that's always the way. For some reason I keep ending up being selected by Steph, a performer who's really growing on me (perhaps because of the 1:1s!). Mycenae.... continues to disappoint. I still can't get past that carpet: I now know it's for the performers' safety and I can't complain about that. But it breaks the immersion completely for me. Most of my other objections to Mycenae from my previous post still stand. Which is a pity, as Agamemnon, Clytemnestra and Iphigenia are fantastic loops, every bit as good as those in Troy. Yet one feels distanced by the enormous space and the lack of intimacy is distracting and unfulfilling. Also - and I'm not alone here - I feel that many of the loops are underdeveloped. While TDM had a few characters who didn't seem to contribute much to the narrative (especially Tuttle and the Dust Witch), nearly all the others were rich and full-bodied all through the loop. In TBC there's a thinness to some characters - Polyxena has nothing much to do after her 'resurrection', Askalaphos doesn't have much to do at all bar a few interactions with other characters where he isn't the focus of attention, Laocöon spends much of his time in his little room, Kronos is very dull, the Oracle is just fetching and carrying, and the Watchman feels aimless. No doubt people will think some of my objections to be entirely inaccurate, but I can only go on the basis of over a dozen visits with most loops followed. Anyway, let's move on from negativity. I feel completely at home in Troy and it's what keeps me returning. And, of course, I can always dip into Mycenae if I want a change (or just a breath of cooler air). I still don't miss the show much after I've been to a performance, but I can say I'm captivated every time I'm in there. Which is all I ask.

[thefoolsloop]

The Burnt City continues to evolve

I’m now six shows in and the show is definitely growing on me, with provisos. I’m not sure how much more I can say without spoilers, so proceed at your own risk if you haven’t seen the show or only part of it. [Might be spoilers from here on]

My sixth show was something of a turning point. Apart from having Miranda’s 1:1 as the border guard (I did want to see her in this role and she doesn't disappoint, moving between fierce military loyalty and painful anguish at what she's participated in), I also finally found a loop I think I can fall in love with and it’s not at all the one I expected. Then I brained myself coming out of one of the greenhouses, which is probably karma. I do think there are some serious safety issues to be addressed in the building, but I thought the same about Sleep No More and I doubt anything will change until there’s a major incident.

Anyway, much to my surprise the character I found myself drawn to was Penthesilea Macaria* (Polyxena’s lover). Leal was playing her last night (what an expressive face she has!), so I can’t comment on how other performers approach the role, but Leal managed to capture the sincerity of her affection for her lover (at one point indulging in a tender solo sequence in which she folded over some fabric reciting, “she loves me, she loves me not”). There’s an almost childlike tenderness between her and Polyxena, and the agony and pain she feels after her lover’s death is utterly heartbreaking. Just as it is with Hecuba, but in a different way. Unfortunately Leal, like most of the PD newcomers, didn't do the 1:1 so I was unable to get any further insight into the depth of her character. But perhaps it wouldn’t have added anything - Iphigenia’s didn’t. I also caught a brief glimpse of a couple of characters I would want to prioritise in future visits. Dafni’s Campe looks delightfully mischievous (shades perhaps of the PA in TDM), Stephanie’s maid is an enticing combination of distressed and self-indulgent, according to the situation, and Artemis, Cronos and Persephone are loops that will definitely be worth returning to. I’ve already tried to follow Artemis and Persephone but my goodness, are they slippery.

In addition, the Troy area is starting to have the same vibe as the McKittrick or even parts of Temple Studios. The network of rooms and corridors is no longer entirely confusing and I’m starting to have a better feel for the different mini-biomes in the area (however I still think they could do with more separation from each other, one disadvantage of the space being on only two floors). It’s easy to move from one part to another, and the production design is starting to feel holistic, especially now a few elements have been added.

There seems to be much more to Troy than Mycenae, which continues to disappoint. The space is way too broad, the ‘hedgehogs’ (though well used in the sacrifice sequence) dominate the area, robbing it of the detail which is so uniquely PD. The Schliemann area is under-used, the forest too small (unlike the forest in SNM which is also small but feels like a space you can get lost in), the sandy area has no obvious purpose, and even the large table area (I refuse to reference P*tin) seems bare and under-decorated. Iphigenia’s dressing room is exactly the sort of thing we would expect from PD and the shower area works well too. Couldn’t they have filled the intervening space with something more than a big table? This is not to take away from the fine performances that happen on that table, it’s just that there was surely some way to divide up the space so it was just more... well, interesting. There’s obviously some kind of creative decision going into this that I can’t fathom, but it’s put me right off Mycenae. Which is a shame, as there are a lot of things to like performance-wise, like ‘Sing Sing Sing’ and Agamemnon’s death.

(Incidentally, I’ve noticed the main hall in Mycenae is carpeted. This robs it of much of the sensation that it’s a battlefield. It feels like an exhibition centre or an airport lounge. A barer floor would have been more congruent with the intention, surely? Even plastic linoleum would have been better. I also think the main staircase and the upper balcony feel too plain - in the previous productions the bare stairwells didn’t matter because they were out of sight of the main set, and generally only used briefly.)

I suppose the TLDR is that Troy feels like a ‘world’ and Mycenae doesn’t. To me, at least.

But enough negativity, except perhaps to note that the eye-watering ticket prices discourage much further attendance. I certainly don’t have any more shows booked at the moment. But at least I now feel I have something that I yearn to go back to, unlike Kabeiroi which just made me want to walk away in disgust. At last this is actually feeling like the Punchdrunk shows which have given me weird dreams, happy memories and aching nostalgia.

[*Edit: there was no official cast/character list when I wrote this post. We were guessing who was who and Penthesilea seemed the most likely choice. Then the list was published and the mystery solved. (We also thought the Watchman was Odysseus.)]

[thefoolsloop]

Burnt City - first review (no spoilers)

I have now been to five performances of The Burnt City.

Initially my reaction was one of great disappointment. I felt the space was wrong in several ways, the darkness too intense, the mood too solemn and the characters uninvolving. I felt the production lacked ‘highlights’, moments of beauty, people and places I could fall in love with. Many of the aspects of SNM and TDM which had such a vivid impression on me seemed absent.

Five shows on, everything is starting to bed in. My first three performances were previews and perhaps I was a little hasty in my judgement. On my last visit everything seemed smoother and I found little moments I could take pleasure in (although I still feel the production lacks really involving big-scale scenes). I’m starting to develop a much better sense of who people are, how the space is laid out, and what areas are of most interest (as well as which are irrelevant). It doesn’t hurt that I’ve had two 1:1s, both of them obtained by chance.

I still think the production is hurt by a lot of its layout and characterisation. It lacks a certain element of charm. The finale seems ill-judged. But even disappointing Punchdrunk is better than no Punchdrunk (except for the horror show that was Kabeiroi), so I’m going back on Sunday.

Initial rating? About 3 out of 5. But I’m really hoping that will go up in the long term.

More to come, perhaps with spoilers (due warning will be given).

[thefoolsloop]

This is not a drill

It’s time to blow the dust off this blog at last. The Burnt City, PD’s new London production, opens its doors for preview tomorrow. Covid permitting, I’ll be going on Saturday.

Some people on the network attended the dress rehearsal, and reports vary from ‘wonderful’ to ‘disappointing’. But it all depends on one’s expectations, and you shouldn’t judge from the dress rehearsal (nor should you judge from the previews, to be fair).

I won’t give any spoilers until the show is fully established, obviously. What we do know so far is the source materials are the Oresteia, Euripides’s play Hecuba, Philip K Dick’s novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and the Fritz Lang film Metropolis. Once again PD use sources which are close to my heart. How they’re going to fuse these sources is anyone’s guess, but PD constantly surprise us. It could be, as with SNM and TDM, that the ‘plot’ derives heavily from one source but uses the other source(s) for colour and detail.

Part of me wants it to be sensational and wonderful and all the good things, with characters I can fall in love with, memorable music that I want to listen to at home, and overwhelming production design. And part of me wants it to be really disappointing, so I don’t feel too bad about not being able to afford the extortionate ticket prices.

Anyway, expect some (totally spoiler-free) feedback in about a week’s time.

[thefoolsloop]

I’m afraid the masquerade may be over after all

It’s my fourth Drowned Manniversary. The memories have faded badly; while the music can still trigger recollections of... something... I no longer feel as strongly the immensity of emotion that I experienced. I remember that I felt, but I barely remember what I felt. This is natural, and unsurprising. My experiences in New York and (especially) Shanghai have helped to deliver an extra hit of the Temple Studios magic, but I can’t kid myself that SNM - despite its many qualities - can match the huge, overwhelming world of the studios and their denizens.

And I’ve been one of the lucky ones, able to enjoy PD productions - McKittrick, McKinnon, ACO, a bit of Silverpoint - since the curtain closed on the studios. Some people have been left starving for over three years. When PD announced that a new show was opening in London - well. the audience response spoke for itself. A heavily oversubscribed ballot, badly managed, led to an outpouring of emotion which can only be triggered by something which is filling a huge hole in people’s desires.

As the production is still ongoing, I don’t wish to say more about Kabeiroi at this moment. But I will say that it was not what I was expecting, and it did not satisfy the hunger that has gnawed away at me since I last threw the rose. However, it did prompt further questions in my mind as to where Punchdrunk is going, and what we can expect from it in future.

Felix has openly said that the last thing he wants is for his audience to feel comfortable - “when they start to learn the rules, you change the rules.” And Kabeiroi certainly changes the rules. Yet even during the experience (not to mention afterwards) I did wonder how many of the rules had been changed for the sake of it. I’d better not say any more for fear of manipulating people’s expectations - but a conversation I had earlier in the year came back to me strongly.

I was talking with one of the cast a little while ago, and I complained to them that I thought PD’s take on TDM - that it was too big - was misguided. What could be better, I argued, than a huge fantasy world you could just get lost in? They responded that they agreed, but that the company felt it was too easy for newcomers to lose the main narrative (and some reviews support this). They said that the repeat visitors - the fans and superfans, define them how you will - were not where the company’s focus was. PD, it seems, is primarily interested in delivering a one-off ‘wow’ moment to the first-time visitor.

Now, we all remember our first show, and there’s no doubt that that ‘wow’ moment is delivered handsomely. But we also know the value in repeat visits: the way a narrative can broaden and deepen as we get to know it; the way we can become so hopelessly bound up in a character that he or she becomes almost part of our real life; the way a thorough examination of the set can reveal hidden details which expose extra layers of story.

I don’t mind that they want to get rid of the masks. I don’t mind that they want to explore new ways of story telling. I don’t mind that they want to keep us guessing so that even the old hands get that ‘wow’ moment. But I do mind if this means sacrificing the three things they have done so exceptionally: world-building, richness of character and production design. There’s no need to reinvent the wheel if the wheel isn’t broken.

And, at the risk of sounding childish, they need to remember how huge and enthusiastic their base is. I’ve read and heard plenty of people starting to question the value of their keyholder subscription in the light of the ballot fiasco. Launching a new product in the hope of expanding your market, while pissing off your existing customer base, is a strategy which has ruined many a company over time. I hope that PD will learn their lessons and maintain a healthy balance of the old and new in years to come. Otherwise we’re going to have to accept that the dream really has died.

[queenofthesplitseam]

An open letter to Punchdrunk

Dear Punchdrunk,

I got unlucky with Kabeiroi. Well actually, I didn’t get unlucky, I just didn’t get lucky. Despite attempts at 2 ballots and the general sale, I didn’t manage to get tickets. But then again, neither did my mum, my dad, my boyfriend or my friend.

But to be honest, my sadness at not getting tickets was actually less than my sadness at the announcement of the show in the first place. To hear about an immersive ‘on the streets of London experience’ didn’t sound like your sort of thing, partly because there are so many other companies doing something similar. I know that you want to progress and keep your audience on their toes, but my concern was - could it be that in trying so hard to not be like yourselves you’ve ended up like everyone else?

In a way I was lucky, I was able to at least try for tickets to Kabeiroi, and if I had got tickets would have been able to make the vast majority of slots. The same doesn’t go for others. I know you had more ‘accessible’ shows, but what about those who couldn’t ‘access’ the show because they couldn’t take an afternoon off work at short notice, or even a day or two if they didn’t live in London? What about those who are of a nervous disposition, or not fit enough to run around the city? For what usually feels like such an inclusive company with such an inclusive community around it, it all felt very exclusive.

I know you don’t owe me, or anyone else, anything. It’s not that I feel entitled, but I do want to make a point that it’s sad to see a company with such a devoted fanbase (many of us travelling across continents just to see your work) make work that so few will be able to experience.

No theatrical experience has ever meant more to me than those created by Punchdrunk, and I know I’m not unique in this. For me, it started with The Drowned Man then went on to two versions of Sleep No More across multiple cross-continental trips. I love the format of those shows that you created, they’re your ‘thing’, your ‘USP’, your signature product. And with every passing year of no new ‘traditional’ Punchdrunk show in London, I become more and more worried that we’ll never get one again.

I know some people criticise you for using the same format, but no one criticises any traditional theatre for using the ‘proscenium’ format over and over again. No one goes to a production at The Globe and says “Well it was okay, but that whole ‘stage’ thing felt a bit derivative”. And I know that you’re capable of progressing within that format too, comparing the Shanghai and New York Sleep No Mores shows how you can progress even within the same storyline / world.

I guess, what I want to say is that I hope this isn’t the end of the Punchdrunk that I fell in love with. One day I hope to see a new show of yours (or old, I’d love you to remount The Drowned Man), that creates these vast worlds in which I can escape these busy streets of London. But for now, I suppose I say thank you for everything I was so lucky to experience, and maybe we can never go home any more.

Sincerely yours

[bloodwillhavebloodtheysay]

I was a little embarrassed at the fervor with which I participated in the raffle in an effort to win the chance to buy tickets (both rounds), even though I knew that it would be a financial mistake to pop for tickets and a trip to London (that I would have gleefully done anyway).  And I admit to feeling very disappointed in “losing” amidst the mild relief that I wasn’t in the position to make that choice.

But then I started hearing about it from people who went.  Some were very quiet about their true feelings because they don’t want to speak ill about our prophet Punchdrunk.  Some really didn’t like it, but were measured in their public discourse.  Some have been clear about hating it.  I Don’t think I have heard of anyone who loved it.

I appreciate this open letter, particularly the parts about Punchdrunk moving away from the format that has made me fall head over heals for two different productions– SNM-NY, and TDM. (Side note– I enjoyed the VR piece they did at the Sony Experience last year, but I am really not as interested in that direction unless it seamlessly integrated into the a more traditional non-traditional project.)

I appreciate that at the core, Punchdrunk are artists, and artists live to explore their boundaries and push their limits.

But please don’t abandoned the tried and true.

[thefoolsloop]

I don't want to comment in full on Kabeiroi until after the end of the run, but in fairness I will say that I've heard feedback from a large number of people who really loved it. I wasn't one of them, however (though I certainly didn't hate it), so I endorse everything said above. Let's hope the "cloak-and-mask" format (as someone dubbed it) doesn't disappear; that magic is too precious to be discarded.

[thefoolsloop]

Kabeiroi: a preliminary review

I went to see Punchdrunk’s new production, Kabeiroi, yesterday. It was the opening night (or, more accurately, the opening afternoon).

As the production has only just kicked off, and as the show’s nature means almost anything said about it will be spoilery, I don't intend to say much more. I will say that there were things in it which I liked and thought worked very well, sometimes extremely well. There were other things that I thought worked half-heartedly, or didn’t work at all. Overall I left feeling that I was glad I’d seen it, but I was generally underwhelmed. Since I attended the opening performance, I can’t hide behind “it was only a preview, maybe they’ll change it for the opening night”.

I’ll write again about this in future. In the meantime, those desperate for a ‘proper’ review should read @drinkthehalo‘s take on it: http://drinkthehalo.tumblr.com/post/165477718718/punchdrunks-kabeiroi - I broadly agree with her comments, though I think I would be less harsh in my opinion.

If you have a ticket (lucky you!) some practical advice: you will be on your feet a lot (though less time than if you’re doing a double at SNM), so the usual precautions about footwear apply. Temperatures are likely to vary as you go through the experience, as you’ll switch from an outdoor location to an indoor one (and maybe back again...), so it’s difficult to advise on what to wear. I took a jacket, but didn’t really need it (but then, it was an unusually warm day for September). Bring reading glasses if you need them. You will get a meal break, but you’ll have to buy it yourself and it’s unpredictable when that break will come. You could bring food with you, but you really do want to travel light on this one, so I would suggest nothing more than a snack which can be kept in a pocket.

When I write my full review, prepare for: how we almost ended up getting free champagne (or did we?); how I was intolerably cruel to a desperate woman (or was I?); how statues came alive before our eyes (or did they?); and how I watched my companion recede into darkness, screaming (or did I?)...

[thefoolsloop]

And that's thirty-six months too long

Three years since Temple Studios closed its doors. In that time the memories have not so much faded as become blurred - still there, still evocative, but somehow bleached, faded, soft, more transparent. The cliché of "like an old photo" is close to the mark, but these memories are less pictorial than holistic: the booming of multiple soundtracks clashing in mid-air, the feel of sweat under your mask while hurrying from one space to another, the wonderful scents - so familiar after repeated visits - that made you feel like you were arriving back home, the rustle of bark chip or scrunch of sand or squelch of linoleum under your feet. And... the emotions. Those emotions lie buried but stirring, undead spirits lurking in your subconscious. You hear the echo of their voices every day, as the show flits - briefly, or enduringly - into the front of your mind. They lie, waiting to be triggered by an encounter with a TDM cast member (as I found spectacularly in Shanghai), or a leaf through Julian Abrams' photo book, or a play through of your favourite tracks on Spotify, or the mere mention of peas, oranges, horses, chequered flooring, red curtains, roses, scissors... We gave birth to those memories in the Studios. They are our children, but unlike real children they will never leave us. They may fade, but they are so strong and immortal, they can be reanimated in seconds. Many of us have been changed permanently by them. We CAN go home any more.

[thefoolsloop]

Distill'd by magic sleights: SNM Shanghai, show no. 5

**(Spoilers for Nurse loop again - and, again, not for 1:1s. Brief spoilers for Taxi and Lady Macduff, but nothing of substance. Details have been obscured or altered, as usual. A very long post here, I’m so sorry.)**

It’s over two weeks since my final Shanghai SNM. For some reason I’ve been reluctant to write this recap of my last show, as if perhaps putting the words onto paper (or screen) would erase the memories from my mind. With any luck, the opposite will be the case; because the last show not only produced some of the most magical moments of my time with Punchdrunk, but also delivered an emotional punch to the gut which caught me utterly by surprise. More on that, later.

My reluctance has also been spurred by the realisation that this will be yet another Miranda-heavy write-up. It’s only on reviewing my recaps (and those of other people) that I realise just how much I monopolised her on my visit, and how shamefully I overlooked Ben, Jude, Daniel and others, with whom I would like to have spent more time (including several of the Chinese cast). Another five visits would perhaps have sufficed for me to get as much appreciation for the show as, say, @whenwillweawake, whose summary I commend to you (it’s more objective and less self-focused than mine).

But I didn’t have five more shows. And, in any case, Miranda was the main reason I came all this way. She rewarded my loyalty handsomely, but I can’t help feeling a little guilty. Not that I begrudge a second I spent with her; nor should anyone consider a second watching this supremely talented artist wasted. If you would prefer to watch her than read about her, I sympathise, but that’s all I have to offer.

It’s Sunday. The weather is hot, but not as roasting and steamy as Shanghai sometimes gets (so I’m informed). My regret at seeing the McKinnon for the last time is immediately exacerbated when, on entry, I get a Deuce. My first Deuce ever. Even in New York I was able to swap it out, but here the rest of my party have Aces and they are all people whose last show it is too, so I don’t really have a case. A bad omen?

Another bad omen - I’ve forgotten to check my phone into the cloakroom; obviously my mind is somewhere else. I have to endure the indignity of carrying my phone around in a little velvet bag strung over my shoulder. Throughout the show my bag slips, and I have to keep hiking it up over my back to get it out of the way. Seriously, folks - check your phone in. It’ll be quite safe and you’ll be spared a lot of annoyance.

My mask is tighter than previous nights and, despite its extra cord, I can’t get it to loosen enough to suit my stupidly big head. My perpetual problem. I briefly wonder if this is how the cast always pick me out - “ah, big head, must be @thefoolsloop.”

My Deuce, worthless in comparison to an Ace, sits in my pocket. My velvet bag is already irritating. My mask pushes my glasses into my eyes, uncomfortably. Is this going to be my first bad show here? Thankfully the magic of Punchdrunk is awaiting me. So - spoiler - no, it’s going to be magnificent.

Since Sam was Duncan last night I figure (correctly) that he’s going to be Taxi tonight. Upon exiting the lift, I search for him, then realise he must be in the new scene which I eulogised about in a previous write-up. Sure enough, I catch him there - he is barely recognisable, but he’s participating with more gusto than I’ve seen Sam display before, and his pairing with Olly again awakens TDM memories. But suddenly he disappears (I later learn how), and I’m left in front of an excellent scene which I enjoy very much, but don’t want to watch just now.

I hurry to his shop - yes, there he is. He’s removing a sock from his head (it’s not a sock, but if I tell you what it is it’ll destroy the impact of the scene). We’re alone in the room, and I wonder if he recognises me. He fiddles with a few items, then extends his hand. This is my first 1:1 with Sam since he thrust an orange into my face, but my hopes for something as violently compelling are dashed. Instead, Sam’s 1:1 is whimsical, lugubrious - at times he pauses with such melancholy that I almost corpse. This Taxi is not the ambiguous agent of evil found in the McKittrick, but a weary man accepting that he is controlled by fate and inevitability. When I’m confronted with a choice, I find the McKittrick’s rather delightful option has been replaced by a strictly Chinese alternative which isn’t nearly as palatable. Oh, well.

Sam concludes the 1:1 by guiding me out into the rep bar through a passage I don’t recognise, and this is where things start to go wrong. The rave is gearing up: the thumping has started. I literally cannot stay in this room. As I emerge, I bolt for the door. Sam, the spirit of Stanford alive in him still, seizes me by the shoulders and forces me into the room, further away from the door (it’s a great spot to watch proceedings - if only I could). Just as I was complicit in Frankie’s initiation in Temple Studios, so I am to be complicit in the witches’ sabbath in the McKinnon.

Except I can’t. I wonder how Sam will deal with a seizure? Maybe he’ll make notes, so as to incorporate it into his Duncan loop? But I can’t indulge him - my only thought is, I have to get out of here NOW. Sam will pick up that something is wrong, surely?

Starting to panic, I bang on the hand gripping my shoulder. I shake my head furiously. I’m about to break both character and the rules by shouting at him, “Sam, I can’t stay here!” when he twigs. He releases me, and I shoot for the door, just in time before Macbeth arrives and the strobes start.

(I don’t know how Punchdrunk can accommodate people with photosensitive epilepsy without spoiling the experience for everyone else; it’s something I want to discuss with them.)

Recovering from my near-miss, I brush myself down in the corridor and take some deep breaths. I’d like to continue with Taxi’s loop, but Sam isn’t in the shop. At this point, I remember I need to be somewhere else.

Flashback to the previous evening. As I recounted in my last recap, I spent a wonderful few hours with the cast post-show, in which I discussed all kinds of things with all kinds of people. Miranda and I enjoyed a lengthy chat covering performance, politics, film, injuries, vegetarianism, the Chinese concept of personal space, and I don’t remember what else. In the course of talking to her I mentioned something that had always bothered me about 1:1s - performers, unknowingly, have always spoken their script into my deaf ear. As a result I’m lucky if I catch the text, let alone remember it.

I also remarked that I believed I now had a full house of interactions with her characters - all the Sexy Witch and Nurse 1:1s, dances, bed-making, kisses, whatever. She grinned, blew cigarette smoke out sideways, and said, “no, you’ve missed one.” Disbelieving, I asked her for details; all she revealed was that as the Nurse she’d been waiting to give me another 1:1, only to see me run off and follow another character. I put two and two together and realised the moment she must have meant.

The trouble is I’m now at the point where I know I can catch Miranda’s Nurse alone, if I hurry upstairs; and I can’t remember how long it is until the moment in question. Sorry, Sam, but there’s only one thing I can do now. I head for the fifth floor.

Sure enough, right when I expect, she emerges from a side room. Once again, just as she did on a previous night, she fixes me with the sarcastic stare and hands me the folded sheets she’s carrying. I follow her to the hospital ward, anticipating that the missed 1:1 will come presently.

(I found this image online, when googling ‘stage blood’ - it seems to unite many of the themes in the Nurse’s loop.)

**(SPOILERS FOR NURSE’S LOOP - NOT 1:1s, BUT CERTAIN INTERACTIONS)**

It doesn’t. I’ve misremembered the sequence of events in the loop. The result is that I go through almost an entire loop with her, just as I did on Thursday - making beds, opening bags, hanging up gowns. Only this time two things are different. First, I don’t mess anything up. Second, the tone of the interactions has changed. Now I’m no longer her unpaid slave (hold on, all slaves are unpaid, no?). Now we’re collaborators, co-conspirators. I have more of her trust than I had before. In the first 1:1, where before I was meekly committing my service, I now do so with confidence; in the second, I feel less like a subject and more like a... I want to say lover because of the nature of the 1:1, but that's not quite it... sadly, I can’t really explain without gross spoilers.

In the open, too, we’re more like partners in crime. I carry out instructions before she gives them to me. She directs me more with her eyes now, less with her hands. I feel that we are walking together, rather than me following her. This time - is it my imagination? - there’s a conspiratorial smile just lingering behind that severe look. At one point we’re in the hospital, where on Thursday she dipped her finger in a spread of blood and tasted it. This time, she takes my hand and dips my finger in the blood; then she does the same with her own. We look into each other’s eyes and, in perfect time with one another, taste it.

I’ve followed her for almost a full loop now, and nothing new has happened (in terms of scenes); I’ve got the timing completely wrong. However we finally find ourselves at the very moving scene I described in my second recap and, this time, I don’t get distracted. I wait for her, she appears - again, there’s that tiniest hint of a smile, as if to say, “shall we, then?” I take her hand and she leads me off.

Of what follows, I cannot give the merest hint. It is comfortably the most complete Punchdrunk experience of my life. By turns scary, intriguing and beautiful it wraps me in darkness, brings me out into the light of a new world, turns the theatrical into the cinematic, dazzles me with its virtuosity and the sheer imagination and execution it displays. Even if I wanted to describe it, words would be inadequate. I almost can’t believe it happened, as if it was a snatch of a half-remembered dream. What it took TDM three hours to achieve on a cool October night in 2013, this 1:1 achieves in minutes. To have seen it is a privilege; to have had Miranda share it with me is doubly so.

At the end, when she’s returning my mask, she leans over to whisper a parting shot. She breathes in - then pauses. I wonder what’s gone wrong. She moves her head to the other side of my head, then delivers the text into my good ear. She remembered.

How many performers would have recalled that tiny piece of information, relayed almost in passing the night before? How many performers would have cared enough to make a change to their usual delivery? How many performers would have remembered which ear it was?

When I first saw Miranda as Romola, all those years ago, sitting in the Seamstress’s office with the makeup smeared on her face, I thought: I don’t know what it is yet, but there is something very special about this artist. If you wonder why I devote so many words to her, well, this should exemplify it.

**(SPOILERS END)**

She bundles me out, and doesn’t reappear. I have one more moment with her to tick off - the walk-out - but still a bit of time to kill before the time comes for that. So I hurry down to the ballroom to catch what I know will be my last ever ballroom party scene.

It’s getting started as I arrive, and I position myself in the McKinnon’s equivalent of the mezzanine, right in the centre, the best view of all the action. The guests assemble, chat, pair off, dance, interact. And something comes over me. Perhaps it’s just the lingering effect of the 1:1, but suddenly I feel an emotional surge, much stronger than I felt the previous night. This scene is so beautiful, I love it so much. Every time I see it, I grow in admiration and love for it. What started out two years ago in New York as a useful point to decide who to follow, has turned into one of my touchstones of the entire production.

The emotion heaves, a wave coming straight from my heart. Standing in the midst of a crowd of strangers, watching this wonderful, magical scene, I can bear it no longer. The dam breaks. Tears form in my eyes, as they did the night before, but now the emotion punches through my defences. I start to sob, my body shakes. I’m in love with this scene. I’m in love with this whole show. What was an entertaining and marvellous experience in New York, has been transformed in Shanghai into a moving, overwhelming, glorious world of feeling. The McKittrick delighted my mind; the McKinnon has captured my heart.

I’m not a crier. Things rarely push me over the edge. I can count on the fingers of two hands things which make me cry in private, and on the fingers of one things which have made me cry in public. What is it that has happened here, in this dark basement, with jaunty trad jazz music playing, that is so compelling, so touching, that it bypassed my everyday reticence and evoked a response that would mortify me elsewhere? I don’t know. All I know is, this is what Punchdrunk try to do. They've done it to me now.

I have to look away from the scene, as the tears have blurred my vision. That seems to break the spell. I gradually recover my composure. What shall I do with the rest of my limited time here? I recall that Lady Macduff was one of my favourite moments in the McKinnon. Perhaps it would be a good idea to see if I can recapture some of the feeling I developed for her. In New York I had a touching 1:1 with Annie Rigney. I wonder if Ingrid can pull off the character with the same vulnerability and innocence displayed by Annie.

I follow her to her chamber, one of my favourite scenes in the McKittrick, where her battle with her addiction is played out against the nightmarish, repetitive soundtrack of her music box, a light, trite tune (’Wedding of the Painted Doll’) turned sinister, the tiny walls of her suite hemming her in. But here, in the McKinnon, the space is more open and her torment seems somehow dissipated. Also, the soundtrack has changed - still a music box, but a different tune, less threatening somehow. This is one of the areas where the new show has fallen short of its predecessor.

It’s not Ingrid’s fault; she puts the same passion, desperation and guilelessness into her performance that Annie had (and my glimpses of Xu Huiting on other nights suggest she is also superb in the role). I find myself accidentally (honest!) standing in the right spot for the 1:1, and when it comes Ingrid is tender and eloquent, just as Annie was.

I don’t like ‘Goodnight Children Everywhere’, even though the scene it accompanies is genuinely moving, so I pass through the cemetery where Fred is awakening, spend a little time watching Daniel make a boat, then drift until it’s time to pick up Miranda again. I follow her and Tang Tingting as they once again, like evil twins, pass in lockstep through the rooms and corridors until they find themselves in the master bedroom, where it’s their job to set everything up for the next round of this perpetual tragedy.

Except something is wrong. There’s a man lying on the bed. He’s got a white mask on. The Nurse-Matron duo pause for a split second to absorb this, and give him time to move. He doesn’t. He may actually be asleep. They seem to shrug with their eyes, and carry on making the bed as if he wasn’t there. They tuck him in nicely, as he twigs what’s going on and collapses into giggles. I can’t see if he’s Chinese or Western, or if he’s one of the cast conducting a prank. I never do find out who he is.

Business concluded, Miranda turns and offers me her hand. We walk down together, our complicity renewed. When I trip on the stairs she reaches out to catch me, but we’re so synchronised now that a slight gesture is enough to assure her that I’m OK. She and Tang, again in perfect step with each other, lead me and another white mask out to the Manderley. Unsmiling, she unmasks and kisses me. I respond with nothing but a wink. Not breaking character, she stares at me for a beat, then walks off. I have not seen her since.

This has been my longest recap, and I must thank anyone who’s made it this far for indulging me. The McKinnon got such a grip on my emotions that I cannot simply recount a few observations about the show and pass an objective critical comment or two. Like a clumsy teenage poet, I must splurge.

Just as TDM did - though to a lesser degree, inevitably - SNM Shanghai worked its way under my skin, and woke emotions long dormant. And, just as at Temple Studios, at the centre of this awakening was a performer of breathtaking commitment and raw talent. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Thank you, Miranda. Thank you, Punchdrunk.

[thefoolsloop]

Wife, children, servants, all that could be found: SNM Shanghai, show no. 4

**(Spoilers for Sexy Witch loop - not for 1:1s, but for new content. This is good stuff, so don’t read until you’ve followed Sexy. I’m mentioning it now because it’s so intense and also because I’d be interested in other people’s reactions to the new material.

Spoilers also for Duncan loop, but not any 1:1s - which I didn’t get. I don’t even know if he does one. There’s one thing in the loop which is so special I won’t even hint what it is.)**

The pain has cleared by my second show of the day and, fortified by a tube of Pringles, I enter the McKinnon a second time.

My initial intention is to have another easy-going show but, on the way in, I immediately realise that because of the cast rotation this will be my last chance - perhaps ever in my life - to see Miranda’s Sexy Witch. Although I'm conscious that I’ve hogged her for much of my time in the show so far, I'm also conscious that I haven’t yet danced with her nor had the walkout. So, casting aside my reservations, I enable Selfish Mode and go straight for the ballroom on arrival.

She's not there. Bald (Fania) and Boy (Olly - by many people’s reckoning the best witch trio this show has ever seen) are there, going through their pre-party motions, but Sexy’s missing. I look around; surely she should be here? I mean, she does start top of the show here, right? I’ve seen this enough times by now to know the three witches are together, briefly teasing each other, then creating a circle and enchanting the ballroom floor before the guests arrive.

I keep looking round anxiously. I’m eager not to miss Miranda’s last Sexy, but I’m also concerned for her wellbeing - is she OK? Ages seem to pass (it was probably only a minute or so), then there’s a flash of green in the corner of my eye. Thank God, here she is, apparently unharmed. (I never do find out what the problem was, but luckily it doesn’t matter.)

The party begins, the guests streaming in from all corners - hooray, here’s Sam at last! - and as the music starts I’m reminded of just how much I adore this scene. In the McKittrick it’s almost the only moment of pure joy, where music, dance and atmosphere are upbeat and heart-lifting (and, yes, I’m aware of the undercurrents running through everything, but at least they’re not laid over with a brush); here in the McKinnon things are more balanced, but the good associations I have with it have been carried over from New York. Everyone is smiling, the dancing is ‘proper’ dancing, not the seriously impressive gymnastics or interpretative movement we see elsewhere. It’s such an uplifting sequence and you get to see it three times a show. I never quite got into the Hoedown in TDM, but I begin to understand why people fell in love with it. I feel the same about the ballroom party in SNM. It’s so wonderful I actually feel quite moved.

The party ends and the guests peel off with their followers. I attach myself to Miranda, but so does a Chinese woman in a white cardigan. She seems to know the loop as well as I do, and we’re unwilling companions throughout. At 1:1 time I hang back, since I’ve had the experience (I don’t see if cardigan woman gets it) and I keep my distance until the rave (except for the medicine shop dance, where there’s so much space for everyone to have a good view). While the lights are flashing I hang around in the corridor, then hurry in as soon as it stops and position myself deliberately for what’s to come (see below).

I’ve waxed lyrical about Miranda’s bar dance before and seeing it for a second time I’m reminded just what’s so incredible about it. Not only is her dancing extreme and breath-taking, but in those moments she seems the very incarnation of something other-worldly, something from the spirit world. While the little touches she’s added to it no longer have the element of surprise, this leaves me free to absorb the magnificence of the whole piece. Both powerful and vulnerable, Sexy in those moments becomes tortured and crazed, caught up in her own private bacchanal. And for whose benefit? We do not know.

Miranda lands in a crumpled heap, then scoots along the floor until she’s right at my feet. Dazed, she stretches out her hand to me and I help her up. Our eye contact lasts only a moment, but that’s long enough for an understanding to be shared. I knew you’d land there, my eyes say. Thank you, hers say, fleetingly. But Sexy is in no condition for niceties just now. Hecate approaches, caresses her. Is it a blessing or a curse? Is she congratulating her on a good job done with Macbeth, or is she reminding Sexy that she owns her? Or both? Or something else?

We’re in the high street now, where I get the same interaction I had at my first show. Again, I’ve hung back a little, but Miranda seems determined to treat me. Oh, well, far be it from me to be rude. I get a kiss for my trouble.

Almost all this time, the white cardigan has been at my side, clinging to Miranda like a leech. It’s hard to say whether she is just keen on the loop or whether she’s gunning for an interaction (if this were New York or London, I’d have no hesitation in guessing the latter, but as I said before they do things differently here).

(’Macduff’s Wife and Children Slain’ from Charles and Mary Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare, 1901)

**BIG SPOILER FOR THE LOOP APPROACHING - NOT AN INTERACTION OF ANY KIND, BUT SERIOUSLY I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON HERE**

Things progress to a scene I missed first time round (I think I was following the Bride). We follow her to the Macduffs’ rooms. Now we’re in the children’s bedroom. There is blood all over the bed. Sexy seems confused, anguished. She pokes at the bedclothes as if unable to work out what’s happened. She picks up a teddy bear and holds it out to us, but doesn’t say a word. Something has struck her on a deep emotional level. The death of children, yes - but why? Why her? What’s been done to Sexy’s storyline to connect it so strongly to Lady Macduff? She’s not celebrating here, as I would have expected, with Hecate’s destruction widening its net. And all this time, she’s being watched (as I discovered at my first show).

I’m genuinely at a loss to explain this scene, and would love to hear theories.

Sexy runs to Duncan’s suite, starts cleaning off the blood from the rave. She seems troubled now, something nagging at her thoughts. She grabs a damp cloth, hands it to me. “Get it off! Get it off!” she hisses, desperately. I dab uselessly at her forehead, her shoulders. She snatches it from me, gives me a massive kiss on the mask as a reward. Then she turns to the mirror and tidies herself up, so she’s presentable for Macbeth at the top of the loop.

**SPOILER ENDS**

Top of the loop, ‘Witches 1′, where the trio meet Macbeth for the first (second) time. At this point, the woman in the white cardigan turns, leans over to me, and says something in Chinese. What could it be? I shake my head, trying to indicate that I don’t understand. Is she asking how come I get all the interactions? Is she pointing out that I’ve trodden on her a few times and not apologised? Is she asking the time? I can’t do anything more to help her, so I turn away. She shouldn’t be talking anyway, I tell myself.

The loop continues round to just before the party. I briefly forget where to stand, and have to run around to where the curtain is, but Miranda takes me in her arms as if there were no one else in the room. We dance, and I recall my dance with Leslie, bird-light in my grasp, so wispy I feared to crush her. Miranda is different - solid, strong, indestructible. No one without substance could do the bar dance like that. I feel on much more equal terms with her; yet it still feels odd being in the man’s position but unable to lead. She gives me another kiss for my pains. I wouldn’t exactly call this painful.

The party commences again, and once again I feel a much bigger emotional response than ever before. So much joy, the music so wonderful, everyone smiling, the dancing perfect, the interaction between the characters fascinating. In fact, I don’t remember an ensemble scene in TDM which had so many layers, no, not even the Hoedown. It’s such a pleasure to watch, I feel a pricking sensation in my eyes. Can this really be described as a moving scene?

(Sam’s good-natured and sympathetic Duncan; photo from sleepnomore.cn)

Anyway, my attention is soon fixed on Sam, one of the reasons I flew all this way. I’ve seen him in only one production since TDM, and then all too briefly. Here he is, again rewarded with a principal role, as Duncan. But where I had expected a Duncan who radiates the commanding presence of Leland Stanford, Sam (like Fania) confounds preconceptions. While his Duncan is indeed a significant presence in the scene, Sam plays him as a pleasant, almost avuncular figure, not a patriarch. This is a Duncan looking forward to retirement - not because he is too old to manage the job, but because he has achieved everything he wants to. Perhaps he wants to enjoy spending time with the ladies, as his attention on Lady Macbeth suggests.

**(SMALL SPOILERS FOR DUNCAN LOOP, BUT NOT THE BEST BIT)**

As the party ends, Sam climbs the stairs, singing to himself. Is he drunk, or is something else going on? In his chamber, he feels unwell, stumbles. As he collapses on the bed, he goes into a Stanford-style seizure, of the sort Sam has practised frequently. But this time there’s no desperate grabbing of white masks, no: “Record! Be the camera!” Instead, we watch powerless as Macbeth comes and finishes him off. When Banquo, Malcolm and Macduff appear the tone changes from sinister to humane, compassionate and tender - particularly with the splendidly sincere combination of Omar and Ben in two of the parts.

Duncan is carried to the cemetery in a sombre procession, and left there. In New York he’d lie there for about ten minutes, while all but the most dogged (or tired) followers drift away. But not Sam. He does something so unexpected, so wonderful and so Sam that I simply can’t report it; it has to be experienced. (Fred’s Duncan does it too, but in a way that is less Sam. You’d know what I mean if you saw it.)

After this, I lose him for a little while, but manage to pick him up after the reset in time for the shaving scene. In the hands of Ben and Sam, this plays out with a strong emotional undercurrent, expressed only through gesture and expression. Malcolm, the dutiful (perhaps over-dutiful) son, wanting to please his father yet also unwittingly terrifying him; Duncan, the cautious father, increasingly unnerved by the razor until he can stand it no longer. Seeing Sam play vulnerable after his dominant Stanford is quite a novelty: yet he pulls it off with immense character and sympathy. One feels that this Duncan-Malcolm pairing have a real bond with each other.

**(SPOILERS END)**

Back to the ballroom - the last time I will see Miranda, Fania, Olly, Sam, Omar and Ben in these roles. Tears form in my eyes, not just because it’s the last time but because this scene is just so goddamn wonderful. What a privilege to watch these master performers do it; what a joy to be able to say I know them; what a pleasure just to get to watch this at all. And so perfectly done.

As in previous shows, I find myself drifting from loop to loop until eventually I find myself back in the rep bar. This time I’m near the door, so I’m seeing Miranda’s bar dance from the side, where it inevitably lacks the impact gained from seeing it front-on. No matter; her dedication and skill still shine through. I stick with her as best I can until the banquet. I’ve ticked almost all the boxes with her, but there’s still the walkout. I feel selfish for hogging all the interactions as if they were rightfully mine. But I also feel that my effort in flying the best part of 6,000 miles to see the show gives me a certain head start in claiming them.

As I enter the ballroom, a crowd has already gathered. This isn’t going to be easy. I stand opposite Miranda’s position while she mounts the stage. I’m probably three or four rows back at this point, too far for her reach. Then I remind myself that there’s less social prohibition in this country against slipping through to the front of a crowd. So, without shoving anyone, I glide my shoulders between people and end up just behind the front row.

The banquet unfolds its slow progress; I’ve seen it so many times I can pretty much detect the cues in the drone, anticipate the point at which the frozen tableau will start moving again. As Macbeth proceeds to climb onto the table, the other characters move away. Miranda comes round to the front of the platform. She will need a hand to get down. She reaches out in my direction, and between us we virtually slap away what seems like a dozen hands until she grasps mine. She positions herself in front of me and, arms outstretched, pushes everyone back until they’re at a distance where Macbeth’s feet won't decapitate them. Andrea is on the table now, his face a mass of blood, his face contorted in horror. BANG! A cry, both from Andrea and from the audience. The creaks echo round the chamber. “That certain night...”

Miranda’s hands have been gripping my shoulders. Now they release, and I turn towards her. She’s already slipped her hand into mine. We walk through the rooms, accomplices, partners, friends. Now and again we exchange a knowing look, she with an ambiguous smile on her face, me doing all the work with my eyes. Into the Manderley, where I receive yet another kiss. I’m never washing again.

After the show, I say hello to Sam in the bar. On seeing me, he glows with surprise and delight. You came all this way? But of course, Sam. Not long afterwards I find myself outside on the terrace of the cafe, where the cast have gathered to celebrate Garth Johnson’s birthday. I renew old acquaintances, make new ones. At last I get to talk to Miranda offstage, and it’s like the eighteen months since I last met her never happened. I meet so many new people, gather a mass of autographs in my TDM photo book (yes, I heaved it into my suitcase and took it all the way to China). There is no finer thing than creative people coming together to make something wonderful - except, perhaps, being accepted into the company of those people as if you were one of them. I’ll remember that evening for the rest of my life.

[thefoolsloop]

Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under’t: SNM Shanghai, show no. 3

**(Spoilers for Cunning Man (Fulton), male new character and Hecate loops; but not for any 1:1s. Once again events have been altered and some content left vague. I have only given away things which I believe to be already common knowledge. Any spoiling, except where marked, is unintentional - if in doubt, do not read.)**

My third show did not happen.

Lost in a migraine mass of pain and vomiting, I lay the day out in my hotel room. My ticket sat unused and lonely. It was a sacrifice worth making, because I made it to the double with my energy renewed and only a shadow of pain cast occasionally across my right eye.

So, my fourth show became my third show, and so on. Having seen some of the vigour and humour Omar put into his Cunning Man role (I'm not sure if the character is called Fulton any more, but it's quicker to type Fulton, so I'll call him that), I was determined to spend a loop with him. His Claude was one of the towering achievements of TDM, his Fool was a sharp and innovative performance, and his William was one of the first ever characters I followed at Temple Studios. After a long and in-depth conversation with Omar at my previous show, it was only courtesy to look in on him (especially when it transpires we're from the same part of London).

So here I am, leaving the lift with another Ace in my pocket. I'm not sure where to find Fulton at the top of the show, but I eventually encounter him at the rep bar, where he's setting up a little celebration in a new scene which warrants some attention.

**SPOILERS FOR NEW SCENE - don't read if you haven't seen it, or it will lose its incredible impact. This part of the write-up is for those who have seen it, or who know they never will.**

(Dragon Boat in Hong Kong; photo from Chinese news service.)

The Dragon Boat scene, as it's becoming known, is perhaps the part of SNM Shanghai which most strongly reflects the influence of TDM. Here's the pounding beat and diminished lighting of Stanford's orgy; here are the masked figures of Frankie's initiation; here's the ritual humiliation of a character under the guise of bonhomie, as happened to Wendy in the birthday tent. Those who have just witnessed the beautiful and tender union of the new characters (see previous write-up) are shocked to see them mocked, bullied, their characters twisted and transformed, the man increasingly out of his depth, the woman changing in a moment from wallflower to party girl. And all this comes after Hecate has rendered the replacement to 'Is That All There Is?' - a substitution which horrified me on first discovery and now makes perfect sense in context.

(It’s only on my return that I’ve re-read the legend on which all this is based, and things are really starting to fall into place; who Fulton represents; the role of the wine and the medicine shop; the relationship between the Bride and Sexy Witch. I look forward to the day when enough people have seen the show that we can discuss these layers of narrative openly, because a lot of thought has gone into this, and it works so very well.)

The scene begins as shocking, progresses to amusing, and over time degenerates into chaos and horror of a sort only Punchdrunk can deliver (especially with all these layers of meaning). The Bride transforms from romantic figure into something more robust, then into a victim again as the Husband, ritually humiliated, suddenly finds his focus and attempts to rescue her from this dire situation. But Fulton intervenes, scoops the Husband up, drags him out of the rep bar, harasses him, hurts him, subjects him further to degradation. It’s a violent sequence, but it also contains a measure of slapstick which engenders an ambivalent response.

In his performance, Omar delivers his dialogue (occasionally revealing plot points) with vigour, with all the smugness of the bully who knows he can have his way and not be touched. “Good luck with your wife!” is his sneering parting shot. One laughs, in spite of oneself.

**SPOILERS ENDED - probably safe to look now; I’ll try to be allusive from here on.**

Fulton continues in his role as arch-manipulator as the loop progresses and he drags the Husband and Bride towards the other new scene which I can’t watch; but his transformation from landlord and shop owner to stand-in medical orderly suddenly makes sense. This time I know when the 1:1 is coming, so I charge forward and am the only person on site to be selected. But when I get into the room, things don’t go quite as I expected.

**SPOILER FOR A 1:1 HERE, SORRY. Again, little or no content is revealed, but it’s only fair that I flag it up.**

I know already that this isn’t a Fulton 1:1, because (a) I know from my previous show that he leaves the room immediately and (b) I’ve already had his 1:1 earlier in the show. It was a familiar one, since I had it in New York but with a different character - I still feel there’s a bit of work to be done with some of the 1:1s in Shanghai - but the level of concentrated aggression which Omar brings to it makes it more compelling than in the McKittrick. Anyway, here I am expecting a 1:1 with the Nurse. Miranda (yes, it would be) looks at me, does not touch my mask. It’s the same look of contempt she gave me all the way through my previous show. “Hmph!” she sniffs, finally, and walks out.

Strange. What’s going on? Then I realise there’s someone else in the room. Someone who is the real perpetrator of this 1:1. And it turns out to be a very beautiful experience, tender and gentle. Though, as usual, I can’t hear a word, so the performance is a bit wasted on me. Never mind; had I infinite shows I would certainly return and experience this again, just to make sense of its purpose within the loop. But for now I’m content with having had the moment.

**SPOILER ENDS - that’s definitely it now.**

I’d like to stay and watch the scene that follows this 1:1 because I caught a glimpse of it in my first show and it was wonderful. But I’m determined to try and pick up Fulton. I find him eventually and finish the loop, its early sequences helping me to make sense of what I’ve already seen. What a delight Omar is to watch - who knew, after his mournful William, his sinister Fool, his inhuman Claude, that he could do comedy as well?

As the new scene comes round again, I pick up Fania’s Hecate (another on my must-see list). She sings the new song directly to me, picking up my gaze from all the way across the rep bar. Like Miranda at my first show, she knows me instantly through the mask. It’s a song I know word-for-word and we lip-sync it together (can she see my mouth moving beneath the mask?). At the end, she moves away, knowing the ghastly sequence is set in place and can run without her. Since I’ve seen it before, and since I’m following her, I walk parallel to her to the side of the room. Then I realise she’s giving me The Look, which means a 1:1. I wasn’t expecting this, but I’m hardly going to refuse.

The 1:1 is very similar to one I had in New York. While Fania plays it less terrifyingly than when I experienced it before, the content has been revamped a little so that I’m still thrown off-guard. It remains one of the best 1:1s in the show - disconcerting, scary, challenging. I catch up with her not long after being ejected, in time to see her ‘marrying’ someone (I get to assist in the ceremony but not be the recipient - though, without ‘Is That All There Is?’ the scene has lost some of its impact).

Fania as Hecate is obvious casting but, as with her Bald Witch, where I had expected the iciness of the PA I witness something milder, something more human. The wig she wears as Hecate has some rather charming curls in it, which take some of the edge off any sharpness in her expression. This is not a demonic Hecate (as Shen Ni seems to be, from the regrettably few glimpses I see of her), it’s more a Hecate half-rooted in the anthropomorphic world. This greatly assists her delivery in the new scene, but perhaps makes her other moments less unsettling (naturally I don't get to see her in the rave, and when I decide to see Lily’s bar dance, to compare it with how she did it in New York, it’s Lily I’m concentrating on, not Fania). Still, a Hecate who’s at one with her victims, rather than looking down on them from a godlike view? That works.

I’m tired; although most of the pain has gone, I’m conscious that this is a double and I need to conserve energy. I drift a bit in the third loop, checking in on Olly’s Speakeasy, which is empathetic and comfortable, and also deliberately making it down to the ballroom to catch the party scene, now established as my favourite. Eventually it’s time for the finale. The impact of the denouement on the audience is striking: there are actual screams. Not just gasps, but screams. I’ve never heard that before.

While the role of Hecate has been downplayed a little from New York, the massive development undergone by Fulton has turned his character from also-ran to brilliant and compelling villain. I never get to see anyone else play it, because my last two shows are spent on other floors, but Omar has nailed it. If you go while he’s still there, his loop should be near the top of your list.

[thefoolsloop]

But for your husband, he is noble, wise, judicious: SNM Shanghai, show no. 2

**(Spoilers for Nurse and male new character loops; but, again, not for any 1:1s. The Nurse’s loop can have a lot of interaction in it, so I have tried to be vague about this, except where necessary to convey the intensity of the loop. As before, I’ve changed the order of scenes in each loop, and tried to be suggestive of the content, rather than descriptive. However, the new story can’t really be discussed without giving away some of the basic content, so once again I apologise if I spoil anything. If you think you’re going to Shanghai soon, I would wait on reading this write-up until you’ve seen the show at least once. Otherwise, continue and enjoy.

PS I’m trying to keep these write-ups to below 2,000 words. It’s not going well.)**

I knew the pain was coming.

When I went to New York to see SNM in 2015, the pain began on day 2 and intensified to a crippling level on day 3. I figured the pattern would be much the same in Shanghai, and so it proved. No one knows what causes my migraines, but fatigue appears to be a significant factor. Jetlag, stress, and a self-guided walking tour through the French Concession, all put a pressure on my body that forced it to the point of rebellion. STOP. REST. NOW.

But not quite now. The pain is brewing, but I think I can make it through a show. I’ve not yet seen Miranda’s Nurse and, although the Nurse in New York was a loop I could take or leave (its development from loop to loop is fascinating, but there’s an awful lot of downtime in between), I just know Miranda will do something special with it. (As it turns out, I am not to be disappointed.)

But first, the ballroom, just to see who’s there. Some potentially interesting performers to follow but Sam is not present tonight, and there’s no one whom I can’t safely save until later. So I climb four flights of stairs, and find myself in the hospital ward.

There she is, a mere scattering of white masks in attendance. She and the Matron (Tang Tingting, known among the cast as “Tangtang”, so that’s how I’ll refer to her) are busy. They are folding bedsheets, and this goes on for a while: stretching, folding. I’m conflicted: on the one hand, this is not scintillating viewing, though it’s arguably marginally more engaging than the top of the Nurse’s loop in New York. On the other hand, I’m with Miranda, and I would watch Miranda read out a telephone directory. In fact, I would watch Miranda read a telephone directory to herself. Why? Because she would find a way to make it gripping.

(Let my praise of Miranda not obscure my admiration for Tangtang. Her performance as the Matron is a masterclass in subtlety. Of all the Chinese cast, she is one of the highlights.)

So these sheets are being folded and it’s mildly diverting, until I realise that they’re being folded into a shape. A very familiar shape. A shape which represents one of the themes which runs through the Shanghai show, and whose significance is so far lost on me. The sanction on spoilers prevents me saying more, but this is a subject I’m keen to pursue with fans and cast as much as I can, because it’s absent from New York and its presence here in China seems utterly incongruous.

But now it’s time to move, because the room is suddenly filling with characters, and the new scene I caught a glimpse of yesterday is gearing up. It’s a scene I can’t watch (especially with a migraine slowly burgeoning), so I leave the room until it’s over. When I go back in, I’m faced with a tableau of devastation and tragedy, and it’s clear this is one of the must-see moments of the new production. Sadly, for me, it’s a must-not-see, or I shall end up in a real hospital.

**SPOILER FOR 1:1 SELECTION (BUT NOT THE 1:1 CONTENT)**

Omar is here, his storyline having been recast to incorporate the new events. He leads the entire company to a small room, where he selects for a 1:1. To my surprise, though, it’s not a 1:1 with him. It appears to be a 1:1 with the Nurse. Gah, an opportunity lost. OK, next loop maybe.

**(SPOILER ENDS)**

Omar leaves the room, locks the door and pockets the key with an air of finality. He seems satisfied, smug even. He strides off, followers in tow. I’m left on my own, waiting for Miranda to finish her 1:1. But she emerges sooner than I expect, and from a different door. We’re alone together in the corridor. She pauses, looks at me. Her stare is direct, challenging; her expression disdainful. The flicker of recognition I caught yesterday in the ballroom has disappeared. There is no flirty witch tonight. Then she hands me the towels she’s carrying, tilts her head as if to say, “come on, then”, and leads the way back to the hospital.

From that moment on, she owns me. Every action I take is dictated by her whim. We proceed through a series of interactions (moving beds, hanging up jackets, holding things), no doubt mundane to watch for those not involved; but for me it’s a series of duties I must carry out perfectly for fear of punishment. No matter what I do, she seems dissatisfied; not once does her expression alter from contempt, bordering on disgust. The impression given is that she didn’t want this job, she didn’t ask to do this job, and since I’m here I might as well make it easier on her - but I shouldn’t expect any thanks. Only a few times does her aura change: the table dance, the 1:1s (yes, more than one), a new scene with the new characters.

(A brief digression on this new scene: it’s utterly beautiful and charming. Everything I found wanting in SNM New York is present in this scene: compassion, affection, gentleness, beauty. One of the highlights of the Shanghai show, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I only wish I was at liberty to tell you what it is.)

(Miranda’s Nurse, taken from the show programme. I’ve not been able to find this at a higher resolution, would be grateful if anyone can supply it.)

She fills out a medical form, tears it off, hands it to me. I don’t know what to do with it. For several minutes I walk around holding this bloody piece of paper, trying to perform the interactions with one hand. Eventually she turns away, and with relief I fold it and put it into my back pocket. As I’m doing so, she turns back to me and presents me with her medical bag. My hands are full. Another white mask steps in and opens it. She glares at me with a look bordering on hatred. You had one job… Despite this I appear to be forgiven, as she delivers me both 1:1s (I was going to say more about them - without spoilers - but things written in print cannot be erased; let’s just say Miranda put a lot of trust in me).

Miranda’s table dance deserves singling out. As with her Sexy Witch bar dance, the control she has, the range of expression she displays, the almost inhuman ability she has to defy gravity with her body (imagine raising your entire body from flat on your back to a 45-degree angle without the use of your hands, then returning to horizontal - I mean, just try it), the risks she takes, the total dedication and immersion into character she has… it is almost impossible to describe a Miranda solo without finding the words inadequate. You simply have to see it.

As I’m watching her perform this dance, her left shoe flies off. She finishes the routine, slides to the end of the table, lands directly next to me, fixes me with that look of stricture, and holds up a finger. “Wait!” her eyes say. She dips to the floor and slides the shoe on, dextrously tying the laces, as if this was all carefully rehearsed. I know it’s not, and I fear she’ll miss her next cue, but all is well - it takes mere seconds. Then, as if rewarding me for waiting, she hauls me off to a 1:1.

I stick loyally with her (she gives me no choice) until the beautiful new scene I mentioned earlier. Since Ben is involved in this scene, however, and since I haven’t seen this story in full, I decide to follow him from this point (thereby spoiling Miranda’s plans for me, as she reveals a few days later - but more on that in another write-up).

Ben’s character - is it sufficiently common knowledge yet that we can safely refer to him as the Husband? - is utterly lovable. A well-meaning man, constantly at the mercy of people who manipulate and beguile him, his intense good nature shines through his narrative thread. Eager to please, he finds himself tricked, seduced, bullied, pressured and ultimately almost destroyed by the forces around him. He’s the only Husband I spent time with on this trip, so I can’t say how the others played him, but after his cynical, snarling, despairing Conrad in TDM this is a major departure and testimony to his versatility as a performer. Ben’s interplay with Omar is one of the highlights of the show; the former naive, vulnerable, trying to do his best; the latter manipulative, cruel, tyrannical and two-faced. Again, how other performers present this two-hander I can’t say, but these two old friends (who would rarely if ever have shared a scene in TDM) are right on each other’s wavelength.

I’ll say more about them in my next write-up, which starts with Omar, but Ben’s Husband loop gives me good insight into the new story, which has a charming narrative thread and a beautiful, heartbreaking final scene - to say nothing of THAT scene which everyone’s talking about, which I can’t witness, but which sounds like the kind of jaw-dropping, mind-expanding experience Punchdrunk prides itself on (oh, and there’s also another new scene which I’ll cover in the next show’s write-up). I do wonder why something like this couldn’t have been incorporated into New York - might yet be - but that’s for a different post.

I feel bad not giving Ben as much time in this report as I’ve given Miranda. But there’s too much about the new story I can’t reveal, and my relationship with Ben throughout the loop is distant and observational, not collaborative like with Miranda.

With those loops over, I wander the space looking for something to catch my imagination. I catch a few moments of Omagbitse’s Bald Witch, who is powerful, bordering on terrifying, with a rawness and vividness arguably missing from other interpretations. But I lose her in the crowd, and it’s time to move on.

The pain in my head isn’t getting any better. I try to spend some time with the Porter, hoping I can sit on one of the chairs in the lobby and catch a break, but he’s never there when I wander through. The crowds are getting tiresome, and I only catch glimpses of scenes from behind people’s heads. Eventually I calculate that the Nurse’s loop must be coming towards its conclusion. I find the Nurse and the Matron together upstairs. Like the evil twins in The Shining, they march in lockstep through the corridors and rooms, as if on a mission. When they get to the Macbeths’ suite they take advantage of their employers’ sudden absence in a way I won’t reveal but which is very amusing. Then they tidy up in conspiratorial fashion, as if aware all this is going to be played out again tomorrow. Finally they turn and look at the audience.

I’ve positioned myself for a final moment with Miranda, but it’s Tangtang who catches my eye. She takes me down through the crowds to watch the finale, then escorts me silently to the Manderley, where we part company without a word. Her bearing is quietly controlled, her face as impassive as her co-conspirator. In New York the Nurse and Matron seemed to be long-lost sisters eventually finding each other; in Shanghai their relationship seems much more equal, more like co-workers engaged in pulling the strings of the top floor activities.

My head is throbbing dangerously, and I’m wondering how much of tomorrow I’m going to lose to my illness. I bid my fellow westerners goodnight. But on leaving I find myself in the company of Omar and Fania, and they are so delightful and engaging that I lose another hour in conversation. Omar in particular is a mine of information about TDM, about Punchdrunk-style performance and about his experiences as the Fool, obviously a subject close to my heart. By the time I’m in bed it’s gone midnight and I have lost any chance of seeing any of Shanghai tomorrow. But: for two days with Miranda, and more besides? Worth the sacrifice.

[thefoolsloop]

The mistress of your charms: SNM Shanghai, show no. 1

**(Spoilers for Sexy Witch and Bald Witch loops, but not for any 1:1s. I have deliberately - and sometimes accidentally - changed the order of events in the loops, and I’ve redacted details which aren't in the New York show or which are just too much of a spoiler. I’m not accustomed to writing about a show which most readers won’t yet have seen, so I’m trying to exercise self-editing while still giving a genuine flavour of the experience. If I mess up, I apologise.

The first draft of this write-up came to 3,000 words; so I have gone through and excised a great deal. There’s basically nothing left which I would consider a spoiler, but your mileage may vary so be warned.)**

I came to Shanghai on a promise.

In 2015 I had promised Miranda that if she was ever cast in Sleep No More I would come and see her. I was assuming of course that she would be cast in New York. Then, many months later, the news came through that Punchdrunk was mounting SNM in Shanghai, a city I had no interest in visiting. Sure enough, she was in the cast. And so were twelve other TDM alumni.

I don’t break a promise. And the thought of seeing not only Miranda, but Sam, Omar, Fania, Ben and many more besides, people whom I had followed loyally in TDM, people who made that show for me, who made the world of Temple Studios so real that in my mind it still exists, I still visit it every day - the thought of all that overcame my reluctance to travel and the limitations of my budget. Some experiences are so obviously special that to turn them down is to live a life of regret. And I’m done with regret.

So after three months of Mandarin lessons I find myself, in the company of @drinkthehalo and a tiny handful of other ex-pat enthusiasts, in front of a huge, gleaming building on a main road in the west end of Shanghai. A most incongruous setting for a Punchdrunk production, accustomed as I am to seeing them in unmarked warehouses, barely-opened museum archives, crumbling stately homes; but not at all incongruous for Shanghai, a rapidly growing city apparently intent on erasing anything old.

You're not guaranteed an Ace at the McKinnon, no matter how early you queue; but the gods are smiling on me, and I’m in first lift. I make it to the ballroom while the party is still happening. I don’t know who’s in the cast for today, of course; but as I advance towards the centre of the room, searching for anything I recognise, I immediately see them: those incredible green eyes. Thank you, sweet Lord Jesus (more on him, later) - Miranda is Sexy Witch in my first show.

(Photo from sleepnomore.cn)

She’s upside down. Macduff has her in the middle of a backflip. But the moment I lock eyes with her, she holds my gaze as she returns to upright. I’m here, I try to say with my eyes, I kept my promise, I’m here. I know, she says with her eyes, I recognise you. I knew you’d come. Then she turns her attention back to flirting with Macduff. I look around and my joy is increased - Fania is here, a natural choice for Bald Witch after her ice demon PA in TDM. Olly is Boy Witch - too big and tall for the part in my view, but clearly enjoying himself enormously. Omar is Banquo - more hair than when he was in TDM, and he looks handsome and full of life. I recognise American performers whom I saw in New York - Emily, Eric. A family reunion, like Christmas.

I follow Sexy’s loop as far as the 1:1 (which I lose to @drinkthehalo, but that’s OK, I was miles away from the right spot). I could wait, but I don’t know how long for. It might be better to get accustomed to the space first. It would also make sense to see a Sexy Witch loop in full, from the top. And maybe there’ll be someone else interesting to follow. So I wander upstairs, see how the rooms have been changed, how the space seems better used than at the McKittrick. The fourth floor is the same and yet different, somehow twistier, less like a High Street and more like a whole town. I glimpse Jude’s Taxidermist, but he swiftly disappears into a 1:1. I see Lily in a costume I don’t recognise. I find the rep bar - Shen Ni looks like a performer worth following. But the beat of the rave is starting and I have to get out of the way.

I wander around until reset time, then head to the lobby. Here are the witches; when Macbeth appears, the three of them climb the walls like spiders. It’s such a delight to see them together. Once they were bopping along to ‘Bulldog’ in Studio 5: Andrea, Dwayne and Faye. Now they’re spinning, plotting, enchanting Macbeth in a scene with a very different tone. It’s a class reunion - and somewhere Daniel’s Porter is lurking; like Frankie, only on the margins of the big scene but waiting for his moment later.

I attach myself to Miranda like a limpet, it seems to be the way here. The loop has changed - there are new moments among the familiar stuff. There’s a new scene which I daren't reveal but it suggests that the character of SW has been fleshed out further, given an extra strand, more motivation. Not just a witch any more, now an avatar of someone else. Wonder if this has been done for all the witches.

Wherever she goes, Miranda fills the room with her presence: impish, sly, teasing, powerful, her timing constantly perfect. As the ballroom scene comes round again, I wonder what must it be like to dance with her (I miss the chance this time). I remember how Leslie in New York felt so light I could have breathed on her and watched her blow away on the air. Miranda seems made of tougher stuff, it’s what made her Romola less of a doormat and - perversely - made her story even more tragic.

The rave approaches; I follow the witches into the room but then I must make my escape before the flashing starts (I mean the strobes, of course, there is no flashing of the other kind in Shanghai - which I don’t think matters much; I have rather a lot I could say about this, but this isn’t the time). I wait in the corridor; once the lights stop, I hurry back in to see the witches hold up their miniature trees to Macbeth. The parties split up, their followers disperse. Because I’m at the back of the rave crowd, all I have to do is turn around and I’m at the front for the bar dance.

Ah, Miranda’s bar dance...

(Image by @arfman, reproduced with permission.)

There are some works of art that are simply too perfect, too accomplished, too striking, moving, disturbing or compelling to be described. Once you start using words to convey them, they immediately become diminished. Miranda’s bar dance belongs in this category.

Doesn’t that sound absurd? Well, all I can say is in the context of the piece, coming at the point it does when the atmosphere is elevated by the rave, when Sexy Witch’s persona is so possessed by... something... that dance, in which she seems to express all the demonic mania, all the suffering, all the rage, all the bloodlust, all the pain that runs through this show from top to bottom, that dance is one of the stand-out moments in the entire production. I’ve seen five, maybe six Sexy Witches do that dance, and none of them could touch the way Miranda does it. And I’m talking about some seriously great performers - Leslie, Lily, Emily O. Every time I saw it in New York, each performer seemed to do it better. And then Miranda comes and tops the lot of them. And I really can’t put into words what it is that makes it so great; it just.... IS.

(I’m biased, of course, but I check with my fellow English-speakers post-show and there is consensus on this point.)

We run to the door of the Taxidermist’s, where she pauses. Something is happening. She reaches out into the distance. For a moment I assume it’s just another gesture, but her hand stays out. I’m halfway down the corridor, some way out of reach. Another hand emerges from the crowd, a Chinese person looking for an opportunity. Miranda shakes her head, ever so slightly, and the person drops her hand. It seems this is meant for me, after all, and I step forward. I can’t say much about this interaction because it would spoil too much, except that once again Miranda seems to discharge a mountain of emotion in the course of seconds, her presence filling the entire corridor, her personal magnetism enchanting the crowd. This open-air interaction has a stronger effect on me than the 1:1 (which I’ve picked up earlier, now that I know where to stand). I’ve never known a performer like this.

I simply must spend a loop with Fania, so I pick her up around the reset. I don’t remember the early parts of the loop (the penalty of doing a write-up a week later), so let’s cut to just before the ballroom scene. I’ve been following her closely for a while now, and she’s rearranging the trees in the room, almost hidden in their midst (one place where the McKinnon’s improved lighting levels don’t have an impact). Then she draws the curtain, takes my hand and we’re dancing. She feels as tall as me (she isn’t, but Fania seems to exceed her dimensions, so compelling is her presence) and I try to remember months of ballroom dancing lessons from decades ago. As we part she whispers in my ear something which I will have to redact, but which makes me nod conspiratorially.

I’m now seeing the party scene for the third time tonight, and the infectious good humour of the music is rubbing off on me: I’m tapping my foot, nodding my head in time. My face has a broad grin on it - perhaps Fania can see it, because she catches my eye and breaks out into a grin too. We do the odd eyeball at each other as my gaze follows her around the room, then the crowd disperses and she goes into her muscular, spasmodic de-wigging solo. This is, just as I had anticipated, a massively athletic undertaking and is almost the match of anything Miranda does.

But, as Fania goes through her loop, I’m hugely impressed yet also slightly surprised. After seeing her PA in TDM I was expecting Bald Witch to be another contemptuous ice maiden. But this Bald Witch is fiery, defiant, with much more warmth than I would have imagined - more like Andrea’s evil twin. And her relationship with the religious artefacts and imagery in her environment - of which there is a plethora, far more than in New York - is so violently sarcastic that I expect the flames of Hell to spring up around her.

The rave happens. I go upstairs to investigate the fifth floor, so transformed from the McKittrick that I barely recognise the features (on a superficial level it’s not that different, but it feels different). I get a glimpse of a powerful scene in the new story, which I had been tipped off about, but once I’m past that I realise the rave must have finished. Maybe I can catch Miranda again, although my focus is on what Fania’s going to be doing. I head for the staircase. I can’t find the staircase. I do find the woods, however. I wander through the woods, looking for the way out. I don’t find it. I do find myself back where I started, however. OK, try again. Stick to the right hand path. No, that doesn’t work. Good God, don’t tell me the woods have only one way in and out?

I won’t answer that question, but I will say that after a couple of accidental detours into the toilets I find myself at last on the stairs down. So I’ve missed a chunk of the loop, but I do eventually manage to find Fania. Bald Witch is having fun, upping the ante on the relationship with her Redeemer. There’s no redemption here. It would be a massive spoiler to reveal what she does, but there are moments in the loop which make me jump with shock. Then we’re downstairs for the finale. As the walkout music plays, she comes round to the front of the stage, offers me her hand to help her down, and holds onto it as we walk out into the Manderley. A fabulous Fania smile and a gentle kiss, and my first show is over.

Fania and Miranda are about as perfect a pair of female witches as I’ve ever seen. While I may not be an SNM diehard, and may have missed some spectacular combinations over the years, the relationship this pair has built up through their work on TDM has granted them a naturally symbiotic dynamic in which they flourish - and the presence of Olly merely tops this off (I would like to have given him more time as Boy Witch, but he just seems to me a more natural fit for his other roles, Speakeasy and Macbeth). I would give anything to be able to see them all together in the rave, but I can’t take the risk with my health, especially on my first night.

And what a first night. To see these wonderful performers on their own would have been heaven. To see them together, and on top form, is... well, again, words fail me.

[thefoolsloop]

SNM Shanghai - some reflections (part 2)

**(Spoilers: this post discusses changes in layout, performance and environment, though not in detail. If you want to be plunged into SNM Shanghai with absolutely no prior knowledge, or if you regard such things as a spoiler on principle, please do not read this post.)**

In part 1 I discussed how the show has developed since New York, and how my own personal reaction to it has changed positively as a result. In this part I want to talk more specifically about the changes and why I think they work well, along with a couple of things that don’t work. I also want to discuss the role played by the audience, which is certainly not a traditional Punchdrunk audience. This post may be rather long; as I write, I realise there are more and more things which have been changed (usually for the better).

A lot of thought has gone into his new production (as if PD would do it any other way). In part 1 I referenced how the experience of TDM has obviously fed into the McKinnon; it’s as if the creatives had looked at the McKittrick and thought, if we were doing this again from scratch, we’d do it this way instead. Some of the changes may have been enforced by circumstances - the design of the existing building, or perhaps the strictures of Chinese censors. Others are doubtless conscious choices.

The set has been reconfigured: in most respects it’s identical to the McKittrick, but the changes were enough that when I was let out of the lift in my first show I  couldn’t find my way down to the ballroom as quickly as I would have liked; and later in the show I missed a chunk of Fania’s Bald Witch loop because I couldn't find my way out of the fifth floor at all. Many staircases are now hidden behind doors which remain shut, and EXIT signs (green here, not red) may mark an emergency exit which is only used in a real emergency. And - particularly frustrating - most staircases only run between three or four floors.

While this makes orientation and speedy transferral from one narrative to another problematic, it does mean that some narratives have developed a smarter way of getting around; sometimes using these varying staircases to increase the audience’s sense that it has to trust the performer, rather than the space. It’s also given the designers the opportunity to introduce different designs into the staircase space, so that it becomes quickly possible to distinguish them, and also means the staircases develop a narrative of their own. (If I had enough visits I could try to determine if there’s any significance in which characters use which staircases.)

[Brief digression on a practical matter: do watch yourselves on the staircases. The stairs blend into each other, as the treads have no striped safety tape on them. I nearly turned my ankle three times, I don’t know how the performers manage.]

Rooms have of course been changed as well, though not too much. Floor orientation is familiar, but some rooms have been switched around. In many cases this makes the space work better. The bedrooms on level 3 now fall into a more logical and coherent pattern, so that the narrative flows between them more smoothly. The Macbeths’ bedroom is also reconfigured, and level 4 has undergone a transformation so that it feels more like a network of streets in an old town. There also seems a better logic to the arrangement in level 5. It’s not so much that the spaces are easier to navigate (they’re not), more that they make sense; there were things about the McKittrick’s layout which troubled me, and those troubles have been largely resolved in the McKinnon.

One area which has attracted a lot of comment is the ballroom. Yes, it’s a lot smaller. This has led some people to complain that it’s lost a sense of grandeur, but I came to like it better. The smaller space increases the inclusivity, a feeling that we too are guests at this party (I mean, there are only actually ten characters present, not counting Macbeth). We can see the faces more clearly, enjoy the interactions between characters better. And the music’s the same, so it’s not like we’re missing out on the joy of the moment. When the trees are pushed together by the witches the ‘forest’ fills the space more, increasing the sense that we’re lost in it. And in the finale our proximity to the gruesome ending magnifies the shock (at every performance, the audience’s gasp was prolonged and heartfelt; at one show there were even screams).

While the incorporation of specifically Chinese elements isn’t perhaps as overt as some might have wished for, this may be appropriate for the modern, dynamic city of Shanghai where they seem intent on erasing the past. Nevertheless, Chinese writing abounds (and those who can read characters should note the malfunctioning light on the corridor leading to the rep bar, which foreshadows the narrative’s end) - this is one respect in which local audiences have the edge over overseas enthusiasts.

Speaking of local audiences, it’s true that there’s a lot more pushing and shoving in Shanghai. This isn’t rudeness or inconsiderateness, it’s just a cultural thing. Shanghai is the world’s biggest city, space is at a premium. People are used to being crammed in together. If you see space, you fight to get to it. You don’t move out of the way for someone because you might not get that space back. So it’s no surprise that audiences bring this mentality into the show. One of the cast told me that people are so glued to their phones (this, I observed, is true) that they’re accustomed to having entertainment six inches from their noses. While this may be slightly unfair, it illustrates the different approach to personal space that you’ll find in the McKinnon. As a relatively tall and bulky person I was at an advantage throughout, but it does mean that there’s more of a dog-eat-dog mentality required and I found myself becoming more assertive in response. When I realised I was treading on the heels, several times, of a tiny Chinese woman who was following Miranda’s Nurse from a distance of maybe five centimetres, I simply continued to tread on her - not deliberately, you understand, but I was less cautious than I would have been in the West. And she didn't complain - this must happen to her all the time.

Ben and Omar related the story of how one night the room they were performing got so full of people that they could no longer see each other to continue their dialogue. I didn’t witness anything quite as extreme as this, but the performers are having to find ways to work around this challenge, which must sometimes put their safety in danger - imagine executing a fine leap and finding someone has moved into the space which you had targeted for landing... The black masks are actually quite good at preventing problems, but occasionally find themselves up against an unmovable wall of humanity.

Woah, there! Did you say “dialogue”? Yes, I did. The addition of dialogue (not sure it has official blessing) outside of the 1:1s will offend the purists, but in my view greatly enriches parts of the narrative. Most of it is indistinct and whispered, and it’s nowhere near the scale of Drowned Man, but at times it helps to flesh out the action and there are moments when it brings a levity and pleasure which was always one of my gripes with the McKittrick (all that sex, death and doom... someone tell a joke, for God’s sake). As I say, there are people for whom this will be heresy - but it’s not overdone by any means, and only English-speakers who already know the story will get the in-jokes.

[Another brief digression: in case anyone’s wondering, the English-speaking cast speak English in the 1:1s and the Chinese-speaking cast speak Chinese. The Man and Woman in Bar speak both, really rather well. Lift introductions are in Chinese, but there’s an alternative option for English-speakers. I apologise if this is too much of a spoiler, but I don’t think our brilliant friends’ many talents extend to mastering Mandarin in three months.]

Which brings me onto the subject of 1:1s. These have also been juggled around - one or two characters have more, one or two have fewer, but the overall number remains (I think) the same. Some of the reallocations actually make more sense in context than they do in New York. While it’s fair to say that one or two of the better 1:1s from the McKittrick have diminished in quality or simply disappeared altogether, most are retained (including the sixth floor, the best of all) and there are some new ones. Timing has often altered completely, so anyone going into the show expecting to know exactly when to turn up and hit the spot for selection will be disappointed. This much is probably what everyone expected.

What I found, in addition, is that westerners are sometimes favoured for 1:1s, or this is the impression given. Certainly my strike rate was much higher than I would normally have expected. This is doubtless partly because I knew the performers in question (in all cases but two), but also because as visitors familiar with the Punchdrunk format we’re primed to be “1:1 ready”. We can tell when a performer is heading for a locked door long before that door comes into view. In conversation post-show with the cast, it was revealed that they do feel an inclination to reward people for showing the dedication and loyalty to fly thousands of miles to see the production. However, they’re conscious that this can’t always be the case because it’s not fair on Chinese visitors who may only go for one performance. Since the western cast will gradually leave the production and be replaced by local performers, this should be an issue which resolves itself over time.

I ought to say a word about the Chinese cast; they’re not in the majority at the moment, but the performers who have been selected are first-rate. A few of the women in particular (I would single out Lee Wen Hsin, Shen Ni and Tang Tingting) are strikingly powerful and communicative performers. Apparently they all needed a bit of schooling in the Punchdrunk Way of Doing Things, but they seem to have adapted well now that the production has bedded in.

Music is largely unchanged, which comes as a relief. I did think there was a reduction in the use of those horribly twee Jack Buchanan songs, but I’d have to spend more time there to be sure of this. One major omission, and I don’t think this is a secret any more, is the disappearance of ‘Is That All There Is?’. When I first heard this had been dropped (and in favour of a much more over-familiar number), I was infuriated - how could they discard one of the most compelling moments in the whole of SNM? Well, I didn’t follow Boy Witch at all, so I can’t comment on how things have changed there, but on the Hecate side the alteration comes in a new scene in which the new song is entirely appropriate - and the scene itself is powerful and jaw-dropping. So I have forgiven them. Just about.

I have a miserable sense of smell, the consequence of lifelong sinusitis, possibly exacerbated by my neurosurgery, so I have to leave it to other people to comment on changes in the use of scent. I did notice that Speakeasy’s bar stinks way more than in New York, and the stench of antiseptic in the hospital now more closely resembles the Doctor’s room in TDM.

Overall I believe the changes from SNM New York to SNM Shanghai have strengthened the production. They have increased the contrast between light and dark; they have fleshed out the story of some characters who were maybe under-used or under-valued in New York; they have made all five floors worth spending time on equally; they have made things easier for the audience (in a good way); and while I may mourn the loss of individual elements (the Nurse’s window dance, Lady Macduff’s music box soundtrack), the new narrative and changes to other scenes and characters have ensured this production is worth seeing in its own right, even if you’re familiar and happy with New York. This isn't SNM, this is SNM+TDM - I can’t say how much that will continue after the TDM performers leave, but I’m sure it will morph into a production with an even more specific Chinese flavour, and that might work in ways we cannot imagine.

[thefoolsloop]

SNM Shanghai - some reflections (part 1)

(No spoilers in this post, at least not that I’m aware of.)

I returned from Shanghai yesterday, after five shows at the McKinnon (should have been six, but a migraine defeated me the day before the double). I had the pleasure of meeting @drinkthehalo and enjoying the show with a tiny handful of experienced fans of both SNM and TDM. While Shanghai wasn't a city I warmed to, and I can’t be sure how much I would want to go back, the show itself was completely wonderful and made the whole trip worth the money and effort.

I’ll be posting write-ups for individual shows shortly, but I wanted to begin with an overview. My write-ups will be less comprehensive than usual because they’re not next-day, but they may be briefer for that - which is good, as I have a tendency to ramble. I apologise that some spoilers will be necessary, but they will never be gratuitous and will be signposted well in advance. Anyway, that’s all still to come.

SNM Shanghai, now into its fifth month and having just clocked up 100 performances, is no mere carbon copy of SNM New York, as if some eccentric billionaire had ordered a to-scale reproduction of a Cotswold village to be rebuilt in the desert. It’s kept the elements which make the New York show magical - most of them, anyway, some sacrifices have been made - while adding two things: one obvious (an extra layer of narrative with Chinese roots, which impacts on many of the other storylines, and which also significantly alters the light-dark balance of the piece) and one more subtle (the experience that the company has gained from TDM, partly reflected by its use of multiple TDM performers, which has meant the dynamics between the characters has become more developed, and the relationship with the audience feels more inclusive).

I very much enjoyed my visit to New York to see SNM two years ago, but I came away from the show without feeling the deep attachment that I experienced with TDM. While TDM feels as if it runs through my bloodstream, as if it has become part of the structure of the meaning that I construct for my life (yes, it really is that fundamental), the New York show failed to penetrate on the same level. I’ve analysed this elsewhere and I don’t propose to revisit the reasons, though I know this statement will arouse horror in the most dedicated SNM fans. I can listen to the TDM music and instantly feel not only transported back to Temple Studios but transported on a level I can only describe as spiritual; by contrast I used to listen to the SNM soundtrack and merely think, yeah, that was fun.

This has changed, and it has changed because of the Shanghai show. Owing to the way that the production has developed, as outlined in the paragraph before last, it has acquired greater depth, charm and complexity; which in turn has meant that my connection with it has almost achieved the same level of transcendence. I think it’s fair to say that there are two additional reasons: the presence of (by my count) thirteen TDM performers, and the fact that I was a Punchdrunk-savvy westerner in a building full of Chinese first-timers. This inevitably granted me a privileged status (which, looking back, I may have abused), so that my assessment of the achievement of SNM Shanghai may not be entirely balanced. In other words, if you go and see the show your mileage may vary.

Those of us who are Punchdrunk addicts know that the reason the company makes such a profound impact on us is that it successfully uses multiple devices to trigger an emotional response. In my ninth TDM show I experienced an emotional response so transformative that I’ve never quite been the same since (apologies for linking to the world’s longest and most self-indulgent post). During my final show in Shanghai, I suddenly found myself breaking down in a silent sob of tears - and not because it was my last show. That’s when I knew something special had been created here.

What’s more, in addition to the show having been developed, it seems to me that the cast have developed too. It must help that many of them have worked together before, and on a production which had as strong an impact on them as it did on us. The dancing seems stronger in some cases, but there’s something else going on as well - the interplay between them is more instinctive, occasionally more daring. This sometimes spills over even to the non-western cast (many of whom are first-class, every bit a match for the old-timers).

I think people who - figuratively speaking - grew up with the McKittrick may visit the McKinnon and find it not to their taste; may find alterations which they regard as deficiencies, may regard the TDM crew as interlopers on sacred turf. Or they may find new magic here, may feel that the changes and developments have brought the show to a new level. To be honest, either response is valid: there’s nothing in the McKinnon which threatens the McKittrick, and the latter show’s integrity is still untouched. The two productions are distinct, and I don’t propose to get drawn into a self-destructive game of “which one is better?”

Having said that, any initial misgivings I may have had have been thoroughly overcome. This is another triumph. Make the trip.