My Time at Temple Studios, Part 2

Show #2

Friday, September 13: 9 pm

Turns out there were tickets available for the late show, so I went ahead and bought one, bringing my total count to six. While I re-queued, Shawn wandered off to find somewhere to get drunk, since he already felt like five would be two too many.

This time, I got on the lift first, so that I would be dropped off outside of the studio. I still couldn't believe that after three hours of The Drowned Man, I hadn't even gotten as far as the gates. Beyond that, I wasn't sure what to do. I knew a lot of people said Romola was great, but I also thought I might be better off just sticking with the first person I saw. By the time I stepped out into the town, I had settled on the latter.

The first person I saw turned out to be a tiny girl in glasses (Katie Mcguinness), wandering through the trailer park, looking confused. I followed her to the bar, where she asked the barman how to get to Temple Studios, showing him her pass for emphasis. The name on the pass? Romola Martin.

You see this? This is my cake. Not only do I have it, but I'm eating it too.

The next thing I know, I'm following Romola back into the studios. So much for exploring outside the gates – but whatever. Romola. She puttered about the secretary's office (that is to say, her office) for a bit, signing a couple of letters and handing one to me without looking. Then the gatekeeper showed up and handed her a package – and the fun really began.

From that moment forward, Romola's story became a straight descent into a nightmare. Every room she visited, every person she met, was more horrifying than the last. By the time the doctor told her she had been in a car accident, even though there had been no real accident (or so I thought), I was nearly in a state of full-fledged sympathetic panic. I wanted nothing more than to scoop poor, tiny Romola up in my arms and escape out the emergency exit with her. As much as I loved what I saw during the early show, nothing there prepared me for how invested I was in her story. We had moved to a whole other level.

Back in the town, Romola had that classic Punchdrunk moment where she realized, to her horror, that she was being pursued by a mass of silent specters (us). But there was one that she wasn't afraid of (me). She grabbed my hand and we ran into the motel office, where I barricaded the door while she searched for the key. At least I could do this one, small thing to protect her. As before, I'll skip over the rest of this 1:1, but I left the office even more determined to save her from the man whose name she had unknowingly been writing all night. But it was not to be. She took me to a car sitting just outside the studio gates. She tried to drive us to safety, but as her hand approached the ignition, she seemed to drift off. Snapping awake, she pleaded with me not to let her fall asleep. She tried to start the car again, drifted off again, and I shook her awake. Then it happened again. And again. Each time, it was harder to wake her up, until finally, she was gone, and the radio sprang to life, announcing her death. I don't know how long I sat in the car after that, wanting on the one hand to go find a new character and unable on the other to make myself leave her.

Eventually, she woke up and climbed into the back seat, hiding from the gatekeeper as he searched the car. She wandered back to the trailer park, but things were different now. I had failed her, and she had forgotten me. When she disappeared into Dwayne's trailer with another white mask, I knew it was finally time to move on. My next destination: the last floor I had not yet visited. Top floor, the desert.

The desert is, all things being equal, the creepiest area of the building. It's dark, there's not a lot of movement, and most of all, it's vast. It isn't subdivided into rooms, there are almost no doors and very few walls with which to orient yourself. You just have to take it all in. I love it. The first thing I saw when I arrived was the funeral setup, fully attended by scarecrows/strawmen. After looking everything over, I moved on – but a few seconds later, when I looked back, one of the seats was empty. Had it been empty the whole time, and I just didn't notice?

Deeper in the desert, I found a small chapel, and inside, the ever-elusive Dust Witch (Margarita Zafrilla Olayo). During my time with her, she didn't do much – but every action she took had a weight to it, and the entire space was infused with her presence. There were a couple of other white masks in there when I arrived, but they soon wandered off, presumably bored with the lack of action. So much the better.

My alone time with the Dust Witch didn't last long, however, as she left the chapel to attend to Miguel and his swarm of eager followers. After their scene together, she headed off into the desert, and I was shocked to see that not a single person (other than me) was following. Was Miguel really that much more interesting? Not that I'm complaining; the fewer white masks hanging around, the happier I am. In this case, it was especially fortuitous, because she headed straight for a nearly invisible door and pulled me in for a 1:1, which, while it couldn't match the emotional impact of Romola's, was still my most exciting, fascinating, and frightening experience at the show to that point. When it was over, she sent me back out to the desert, and I turned to see if she was coming as well, so that I could continue her loop. Instead, she looked at me, put her hand to her chest, and bowed slightly, which I found tremendously comforting. I returned the gesture, and she disappeared behind the wall.

I wound up with Alice (Emily Mytton, as usual) next, although I don't recall where I found her or why I decided to go with her. She turned out to be the perfect choice after the emotionally draining Romola loop and my languid but edgy Dust Witch experience, because she introduced me to an aspect of the show that I had only seen momentary glimmers of before: humor. Alice is HILARIOUS. From the silly things she says to the way she toys with unsuspecting audience members to the general amusement she seems to take in everything that she does, every moment spent with Emily's Alice is a blast.

I did have a brief moment of panic when, very shortly after I started following her, she took my hand and told me she was going to show me Temple Studios' greatest achievement, and took me to see the murder. The show couldn't be over already, could it? Not so soon! But then, the murder was sparsely attended, and Stanford didn't call “cut,” and I realized there was still a loop to go. Phew. Crisis averted.

Other than that, the most memorable thing that happened with Alice was an unplanned event – we were walking back toward the lower levels of the studio, and passing through the doctor's office, which was empty save for a single white mask (a younger girl). A couple of pairs of scissors were laid out on the overhead projector, casting shadows on the wall, and the girl was looking through some notes on the table right next to it. As we passed, Alice snatched the scissors up, making a horrible clattering sound. The girl, who must not have seen us come in, screamed and flung her hands in the air, knocking her mask clean off of her head. Alice paid her no mind until we reached the door, at which point she turned back to the girl and said “thank you,” in that wonderfully condescending tone of hers.

Alas, my time with Alice also included my first instance of audience-related frustration, as I got caught in the crowd after Frankie's audition in Studio 5, and by the time I make it down to the basement, Alice is nowhere to be seen. There's a lot of talk out there about not crowding actors, which is totally reasonable in stationary scenes, but I think when you're traveling, those who are at the front of the pack have an obligation to keep as close as possible. Otherwise, everyone else runs the risk of losing their character. Fortunately, I knew that we were heading for the initiation (since Alice told Frankie they were going to meet Mr. Stanford), so I knew if I just followed Frankie for a few minutes, I would find her again – but after the initiation was over, she disappeared behind a locked door (I've since heard that this is where her 1:1 happens, but she didn't take anyone), and I knew it was time to move on.

At this point, I realized that I had still only barely scratched the surface of the town, so I headed back there, just in time for the hoedown – which was full of characters I was completely unfamiliar with. My eye was immediately drawn to a cute redhead in cowboy boots and a red and white checked shirt (Miranda Mac Letten), who I later learned was the Drugstore Girl. I decided that when the hoedown ended, I would follow her out. This isn't how I make all of my decisions, incidentally, but when presented with a room full of cyphers, with no other reason to pick one over the other, why not?

Miranda's Drugstore Girl reminds me very much of the classic boxcar diner waitress: kind of tired and frazzled, but with a sort of resigned warmth. It's an old archetype, and it makes her a very comforting presence to spend time with. It also adds to the impact when you see her youthful energy start to reassert itself anytime Andy (or his jacket) is around. I spent the rest of the night hanging out in the drugstore, and she poured me a lemonade and shared a couple of Jelly Babies with me. I knew we were getting close to the end, and I started to wonder if/hope she was going to take me to the murder and do the walkout with me. We certainly seemed to have developed a rapport. Then came Badlands Jack (David Essing).

Jack had been to the drugstore earlier, and I really didn't know anything about him, other than he seemed like kind of a dick. This time, he seemed to have softened a bit, and the Drugstore Girl seemed more tolerant of him as well. He retrieved a couple of roses from behind the counter and did a bit of business with her, after which they each took one, and I knew the moment was coming. Would she pick me?

As it turned out, she never got the chance, because almost immediately, Badlands Jack locked eyes with me and grabbed my hand. I was, as usual, thrilled to be selected for any special treatment by an actor, but there was a part of me that was left standing there in shock, stammering, “but. . . but. . . Drugstore Girl. . . .” Still, no guarantee that she would have picked me anyway.

Watching the murder with Jack was a bit more intense than with Andrea. Instead of holding my shoulders as she had done (and Alice had done earlier in the night), he wrapped his arms around my torso, and every time Wendy stabbed Marshall, instead of squeezing me, he thrust his hands into my gut, as if stabbing me as well. It was borderline invasive, I guess, but tremendously effective.  Kudos to David Essing for that extra twist.

Then there was the finale, a drink in the bar, and finally I stumbled back to the hotel, exhausted but itching to go again.

Next time: I actually follow one of the guys for a change.