My Time at Temple Studios, Part 9

Show #9

Saturday, December 28: 5 pm

By way of introduction, this entry represents the first half of my very best night at The Drowned Man. Both of the Saturday shows went so perfectly, with barely any downtime where I didn't know what I was going to do, that I don't know if I can ever top them. As a result, both this write-up and the next one are a bit longer than the others - what can I say, I got excited.  Now, a lot of times when someone says a show went well, they mean that they did well with 1:1's – but (spoiler!) at this show, I didn't even have a single one. So what made the night so great? Read on. . .

When I booked my show tickets for this trip, I decided to go premium for one of them. Just one, just to see what was there. This show was that one. My 5:00 ticket essentially guaranteed me a place in the queue, but I still couldn't help myself – I showed up at 4, as usual. I really enjoy queue time before the show, getting to meet like-minded repeat visitors and tantalize newbies with cryptic hints. When 4:45 rolled around, and they started letting the regular ticket holders inside, I bailed out and got in the premium line, which was only three-deep at that point.

I'm going to remain vague on the details of the premium entry, as I have been with the 1:1's, since that seems to be the convention for such things - but I will say a few things. First of all, even before the exclusive prologue scene, the entry process is massively more atmospheric than the normal entry. In some ways, it reminds me of the Sleep No More entry – which is, coincidentally, one of only two things that I feel SNM does better than TDM (the other is the post-show bar scenario. Well, the bar in general – I really love the Manderley). I wish they had been able to skew the normal entry more in this direction. Second, I wonder what sort of audience they are targeting with the premium tickets. The intro scene certainly seemed tailored to first-timers, to the point where I found myself wishing they would just get on with it and stop talking about how to enjoy a Punchdrunk show.  On the other hand, the other major perk of a premium ticket, the drafting room, is chock-full of details and information that I think would be completely lost on a newbie. Third thought: once we got past the lecture and into the performance portion of the scene, it was pretty impressive – hats off to Phoebe (Sarah Sweeney) and our mysterious second performer. Finally, one downside to premium entry was that I didn't get to look at the cast list before going in, which left me surprisingly anxious and off-balance. I had grown accustomed to using it to help plan my first loop, so without it, my plan consisted of a mind-boggling array of if-then statements.

At the conclusion of the premium prologue, I was surprised to find myself directed back into the entry maze, ultimately to join the regular ticketholders in the lift waiting area. I had heard that the premium entry was through Studio 3. But no matter. I wanted to start in the town anyway. Once the lift arrived, I got yet another surprise: for the first time ever, I met a male executive other than Matthew Blake's wonderfully smarmy/creepy Larry. This time it was Ace (Mateo Oxley), who is more of a smooth operator that enjoys toying with the audience. He took us down to the basement, as usual, where I expected him to let off five or six people and then slam the door – again, as usual. But six people got of, then seven, then eight. . . I shuffled my feet, slowly moving toward the front of the lift. I really didn't want to get off in the basement. Still shuffling, closer, closer. . . by this time more than half of the lift had exited. I was at the door. No more delaying, I would just have to get off – then, suddenly, he slammed the door in my face and we were off to the first floor. Was he deliberately messing with me?

When the door opened to the town, I was first off, and turned left to head through the back of the motel, as usual (there's that term again). Before I could get going, however, Ace grabbed me and shoved me to the right, directing the rest of the audience to the left. He smirked at me and said, “you don't want to associate with the riff-raff, do you?” and pointed a small passageway off to the right, which took me straight to the saloon – ahead of everyone else. Score.

When I got there, the hoedown was in full swing, which meant I was coming in much later than normal. This wasn't really a surprise, but it did invalidate my first “if-then” plan (Romola, if played by Sonya Cullingford or Miranda Mac Letten). Fortunately, the rest of my potential options were all townspeople, and the hoedown was a great opportunity to see who was playing who all at once. Among them, I spotted Laure Bachelot as Mary, who was my first back-up plan, so I lingered outside until she and Dwayne (Vinicius Salles) snuck out to get it on against the window. I think I feel more uncomfortable about watching this moment close-up than any other scene, including the various other sexual encounters. I'm not sure why – my best guess is that it is really designed to be seen from inside the saloon as part of the whole hoedown scenario, so watching it out of context is like renting a movie and fast-forwarding to the nude scenes. Or something like that.

At any rate, they finished up and Mary stumbled into the woods to repent in front of the chapel. By the time she got there she was completely mobbed, enough so that I had a hard time seeing her. In retrospect, the crowds weren't that bad for the rest of the show, so I'm guessing we just happened to get another lift full of people dumped on us at that exact moment. At the time, though, all I knew was that it was crowded. I was starting to have second thoughts – partially because of the crowd, and partially because I came into her loop so late, I didn't think I'd have time to really bond with her and develop the emotional attachment that I would need to fully appreciate the end of her loop.

But then, in an instant, everything turned around in what is, for me, the most powerful example of what Punchdrunk can do that traditional theatre can't. It's all about the level of immersion you can get when you use all of the senses – sight, sound, smell, taste, and, in this particular case, touch. After retreating to her's and William's home, Mary had a momentary hallucination, believing that I was William (Omar Gordon). She embraced me, sobbing into my ear about how sorry she was for what she had done. I could barely hear the words, though, because I was so overwhelmed by how she felt – specifically, the fact that she was shaking. I could feel her trembling. That sensation overcame me so completely, slamming home her misery with such unexpected force, that from that moment forward I was with her 100%. The investment in her character that would normally take me half a loop was accomplished in a matter of seconds. It was extraordinary.

Also, the crowd thinned out. But that's less exciting to talk about.

After that came “Walking in the Sand” in the saloon. If you've read my earlier write ups, you know I just cannot handle being in that room at that moment. Turns out, that's still the case, although I did manage to hold it together. I will say that, although I have a strong preference for Laure's Mary overall, I do feel that this portion of the loop is better with the Paul Zivkovich/Kate Jackson combo. Omar and Laure's version lacks that wonderful slow march out of the saloon with William carrying Mary, and the murder itself is more violent and aggressive – more in keeping with the Wendy/Marshall murder, actually. On the other hand, watching Omar's William usher Laure's Mary up the stairs while she stared right at me, terrified, was both bone-chilling and heartbreaking.

Up next: a crisis of conscience. On their way to the sand dune, William and Mary took a look at the Red Moon Hotel postcard that marked their first date. As they approached, they dropped it in the sand. At that moment, I thought, “hey! They threw it away! It's discarded! I want it!” and scooped it up. Instead of pocketing it immediately, however, I held it through the murder. As I did, I started to notice how worn it felt. This was not a brand new prop. Not the sort of thing they just created for this show, and would create again for the next. I felt slightly ill, ashamed of my actions. Oddly enough, I think this strange mix of excitement and shame was a perfect fit for the scene.

Once Mary was dead, I headed back toward the scarecrow funeral to await her reset. On the way, I dropped the postcard back where I had found it.

As the loop began again, I was struck by how William and Mary's resets were not quite synced up. When they were reunited, he still remembered the murder, as if in a dream, while she was oblivious. Their interaction at that point was very touching, and reminded me of Hamlet and Banquo's reset interaction at Sleep No More, which took on two different meanings depending on if you know of the events of the previous loop.

Things lightened up considerably after that. The next thing that really stood out to me was an amusing moment – Mary and Faye (Natalia de Miguel Olaso) talking in the street about Dwayne. Just two Socal girls from the 60's, each with their own, distinct, relatively thick accent (French and Spanish, respectively). It's the sort of thing that would drive me nuts in a movie, but in this context, just made me smile.

After that, they headed to the saloon, where Conrad (I think it was Adam again, but not 100% sure) was performing “Never Go Home Anymore.” It was really interesting to see the same scene again from Mary's perspective – there's a whole narrative going on over there, with notes passing back and forth between her and Dwayne. Afterward, as we were leaving the saloon, I caught a glimpse, out of the corner of my eye, of someone rushing after Mary. Whoever he was, he was really interested in her, but he was a newcomer and I had been with her all this time, so I quickened my pace – no way I was going to let this guy get in front of me. Then we passed through a pool of light, and I realized it was Dwayne.  He turned and left, probably because I scared him off (Right? Right?)

Speaking of Dwayne, he's a major part of Mary's story, so I should address him for a bit. Basically, I can't stand the guy. I see him in a scene, I want to go watch another scene. Doesn't matter who plays him, I just don't like him. Watching the first portion of Mary's loop, though, actually softened my stance on him – at least this particular incarnation. Part of it, I'm sure, is seeing him through Mary's eyes, but part of it is that I was finally able to pick up on the soulfulness and gentleness in Vinicius's eyes that serves to offset all of his alpha male bullshit that tends to repel me. Also, his cartwheel over Mary, off the hood of the car during their sexy car dance, is ridiculous – in a good way.

Dwayne also, of course, gave a bracelet to Mary, which led to a fight between her and William on their front porch. This time, it turned out a little different than usual – when he pulled it off of her wrist, he tore it apart completely, scattering beads all over the swing. He took off right after, so poor Laure then had to spend several minutes gathering up the beads and hiding them in the rafters of the porch (!), all while keeping character. She did a good job of it; if it weren't for the bizarre choice of using the rafters instead of a drawer or something, I'd never have known anything went wrong.

Not long after that, we approached hoedown time, which meant my loop was coming to an end. Mary got dressed up, pulled out the postcard (a brand-spanking new one, I might add) from between the pages of her bible, and then a really amazing moment – as she looked at herself in the mirror, a note from Dwayne in her hand, Marshall (Fionn Cox-Davies) appeared in the reflection, holding his invitation to the executive party and mirroring her movements. Although I followed her back to the saloon afterward, in my mind, that was the dramatic conclusion to my journey with Mary.

When we got to the saloon, it was just about time for the drafting room to open up, so I headed downstairs to look for it. I still wasn't 100% sure where it was, but the timing of my departure from Mary allowed me a few extra minutes to search. Turns out, it was unneccessary – the drafting room could be found right next to the stairway I used to get down to the basement. A nice surprise, but it also meant that I was a bit early, and couldn't get in. Fortunately, the exec party/orgy was just starting up nearby. As the counterpart to the hoedown, it was a similarly good opportunity to quickly identify a large portion of the cast for the night, and I took full advantage before returning to finally make my way into the drafting room.

I will remain vague on exactly what I saw in the drafting room, again, as per what seems to be the convention. I will say that in many ways, it really is a cave of wonders. I spent the first few minutes staring wide-eyed at everything around me, my jaw agape and my hands frantically working the air in front of me. I could easily have spent hours in there – and I would love to return. But, in the end, I don't think I would ever want to give up actual show time to do it. The true magic was always happening outside of the drafting room. This was the message that Phoebe imparted to me, after I had spent more than a half hour pouring over dossiers and notebooks. She told me that “If I do nothing, nothing will ever happen,” and sent me back up to the saloon. For that, I thank her.

Up in the saloon, the “Never Go Home Anymore” scene was repeating, so I wandered back out to the trailer park instead. There, I noticed that Dwayne's trailer was shut and locked – which mean that Romola was inside doing a 1:1. At this point, through process of elimination, I had a suspicion as to who was playing her, so I waited around to see if I was right – and sure enough, after a couple of minutes, a bewildered white mask emerged, followed shortly after by Romola, in the form of Sonya Cullingford. This was a classic two birds/one stone situation: I had wanted to do a loop with her as Romola, and I wanted to see what Romola's third loop alternate ending was – so my plan for the rest of the night was fully locked down at that moment.

I've mentioned before that Sonya's Romola is my favorite version of the character, and one of the reasons for this is that she allows herself a few moments of happiness, bits of light that make the darkness all the worse by comparison. The best example of this is her scene in the secretary's office – once she realizes that it's her office, that she belongs there and has a job, she attacks the job of cleaning up with gusto, thrilled to have found out where she belongs. She even smiles – not a half-smile, not a sad smile, but an innocent, joyful smile. It just breaks my damn heart. When the moment broke and she became, seemingly, possessed – frantically typing out the dialogue of her later scene with Conrad – it felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

Once we got down to the basement, I was pleased to see that her scene with Stanford (Sam Booth) had been revamped since September, fairly heavily. Not that there was anything wrong with the original – I'm quite fond of it – but I do like to see new things, especially in unexpected places. Originally, the scene played out more organically – things seemed to flow naturally from talking, to dancing, to slapping. In the new version, the level of artifice has been significantly increased, with a lot more instruction and direction to be had. Points to the new version – it's a change for the better.

I should also add that they've given her a couple of new interactions with the Doctor (James Traherne) as well, and they are a fantastic addition. Her final scene with him plays out so much more interestingly in light of these earlier interactions, to the point where I have a hard time imagining the loop without them (they also partially invalidate, or at least discourage, some of my theories about Romola and her place in the story. But that's a discussion for another day).

That final interaction with the Doctor meant it was time for the story to branch off from its normal path, so instead of heading for the motel, Romola took a rose from her shrine and took off down the stairs. Outside of Studio 2, she started to fumble with her purse and spilled its contents into a pool of light. She knelt down, collecting them, and noticed something about her page of notes – something that she would normally have noticed during the motel room 1:1, so it will go unmentioned here. After tearing the page out of her notebook, she brought her hands to the car crash wounds on her face, anxiously studying the bits that rubbed off on her fingers. She quickly pulled a cloth out of her purse and dabbed at the wounds, pleased at the results. “It's just makeup,” she said. She had made the same protest, futilely, to the Doctor -but now she sounded so relieved that she was right. She held the cloth out to me and I took it from her and cleaned her face, undoing the seamstress's work and restoring her undamaged beauty. When I finished, she traded me her rose for the cloth and walked me to the woodchip pile where Wendy was about to murder Marshall (really wish I had a picture of that cast list right about now. . . .sorry ). We watched the murder together, and at one point she whispered in my ear, “It's okay. They're just makin' pictures.” Once the deed was done, I threw my rose and she dropped me off by the caravans to watch the finale, pressing her notebook page into my hand and, smiling widely, repeated, “It's just pictures. We're just makin' pictures.”

Again, I was stunned by how impressive the final number is when viewed from afar, especially the early portion, which looks for all the world like the entire cast of characters is just fooling around on stage, joyously. I was elated – Romola was free, and I had helped her escape. And there she was, happy as can be, taking part in this massive celebration. I watched Faye dance with a white mask and Lila slide across the stage. I watched Conrad fling himself along the handrail and Frankie hop on a table with a handfull of balloons. Everyone was so happy. That was when I realized I was crying, and had been ever since Romola left me by the caravans. 

 That was how I ended the show, with an experience that was completely novel to me – tears that came not from tragedy, or from bittersweet feelings, but rather made of nothing but joy.   I left the show thinking it may well have been my very best - and with no idea that, only a single hour later, things were about to get even better.