My Time at Temple Studios, Part 31

Show #31

Saturday, July 5: 5 pm

The endgame was well underway. This Saturday double marked the final night of The Drowned Man. Not technically, of course – there was still the finale itself. But with rumors of extended endings and cast swapping, not to mention the hordes of emotional fans that would be descending on the site, there was no telling what it would be like. This was the final night for the show as we had known and loved it. At the very least, that's the way I was treating it.

As such, I was firmly in “revisiting” mode (with allowance made for a single specific exception, if the opportunity arose - more on that in my next write up). As they say, every story reaches a point where it has to stop expanding and start contracting. There were still so many loops, specific character combinations, that I had never done. Even some characters that I had never followed properly (Sorry Marshall, Barman, and Gatekeeper). But it was too late. If I kept chasing them, I was sure to regret it. It was time to start saying goodbye.

When I got to the board, I second-guessed my philosophy a bit. Laure Bachelot was playing Lila. I had always loved her Mary, and never got around to following her as anyone else. Her sand dance with Miguel several shows back was exquisite. I wanted very much to do a loop with her – but I stuck to my guns. Contract. Say goodbye.

I wound up with three people on my list. Kirsty Arnold's Andrea, Sonya Cullingford's Faye, and Sam Booth's Stanford. All three represented key parts of my Drowned Man history, and all three would be playing those roles for the last “proper” time (that is, outside of the finale). I just couldn't figure out what order to do them in, nor which one to short-change – after all, there aren't actually three complete loops in a show.

Without really making a decision, I let my gut carry me out of the lift in the basement and rushed over to Stanford. Enough waffling, time to act. Unfortunately, in a classic example of how I Just. Don't. Learn., he disappeared into his 1:1 within fifteen seconds of my arrival. Why do I always show up right out of the lift, when I know this is exactly what's going to happen? I couldn't wait around. Not at this show, when time was so short. That's when an idea came to me – if I took off and picked up another character, did a complete loop with them, and returned, I should make it back just in time for Stanford to emerge for the initiation – my transit time would cover the time spent in the 1:1. Efficiency in action.

Enacting the plan, I headed upstairs – but I still didn't know which of the lovely ladies I should try to find first. It became a moot point when I unexpectedly ran into Andrea just outside of the stairs on the ground floor. She was walking to Studio 3, fan in her hands and fans at her heels. I briefly thought about following her and trying for the 2:1, but I'd already had it with her once, and I'd most likely just wind up back in the same position, waiting for my character to emerge.

So then: that left only one option. Back to the stairs, I headed upstairs to town, where Faye would be waiting. I felt kind of strange about following her for the first loop – as I've mentioned many times before, Faye, to me, is a third-loop kind of girl. But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Emerging into the hallway near Romola's shrine, I peeked into Studio 5 and the Seamstress's workroom, just to make sure she wasn't there – I was still slightly unsure of the timing. Since she was gone, I had to assume she'd be out in the arcade, probably watching Dwayne and Mary dance on the car. I headed for the studio gates, but halfway there, I realized I was going the long way and took the back door into the cinema instead. Emerging into the lobby, I saw her straight ahead of me, standing in a pool of light, staring a the car with the first hints of tears in her eyes. I gave the doors a push and rushed forward, smashing my face right into the glass.

You see, the cinema doors open inward.

Take two went considerably better, and I caught up to Faye just as she was heading into the motel. I made a conscious decision at this point to really take it easy during the loop, hanging back, not rushing, and taking shortcuts to scenes rather than sticking right with her for every single moment. I thought this might make dealing with the crowds a little better. It worked out better than I had hoped – I figured it would be a bit of a trade-off, where I would avoid frustration, but remain a little distant, and not as emotionally involved. In fact, quite the opposite turned out to be true. By relaxing and just letting things happen, rather than actively trying to get the best spot, I opened myself up to exactly the sort of emotional investment that I had been craving for the entire week. It snuck up on me, too – I watched her breakdown in the motel room, the dance in Dwayne's trailer, the desert dance, the hoedown, the dance through the arcade. . . they were all wonderful, and it felt like Sonya was really pouring everything into her performance – but I wasn't really investing any more deeply than, say, on Wednesday – or so I thought. But the whole time my heart was slowly crawling up into my throat, and by the time Miguel (Georges Hann) left her in the motel room, it had taken up permanent residence there, and my eyes refused to blink. Outside of that magical loop 3 in show 16 (and even then it's arguable), this is the most upset I had ever been at that scene. I wanted so badly for things to work out for Faye, and I dreaded the reset, knowing that the story would lack my beloved loop 3 ending.

Out at Dwayne's trailer, Faye was like an animal, slipping and sliding in the woodchips, clutching the door frame like it was the only thing keeping her from drowning. This scene has always felt just a bit like a preamble to the main event (Walking in the Sand) to me, rather than a significant piece in its own right – but this time, it was tearing me up inside. I swear, Sonya was giving her strongest performance of the run (my admittedly limited experience notwithstanding).

Then “Avarice” faded into “In the Still of the Night,” and she climbed to her feet. That was when I felt it. A shudder in my chest, a hitch in my breath, a burning in my eyes. Faye stumbled into the Horse and Stars and I followed, fighting to contain the mounting pressure inside. She took the stage, shouting her name as if it meant something, and I nearly lost it – but I held tight, shuddering and shaking, the rhythm of my breath abandoning all regularity. She began to sing, looking slowly around the room, locking eyes with anyone who would have her. Each time she came to me, it seemed like she lingered for an eternity – but I'm sure it just felt that way. She came to the quiet break (“remember. . . . “), and then the crescendo (“softly we'll meet with our lips”), and I was gone. As if on cue, right on the downbeat of the new verse, the floodgates opened and big, rolling, blubbery tears began pouring down my face. They didn't stop until after the reset.

Once could argue that I'm overly familiar with Faye's loop, but the next scene was relatively unfamiliar to me – I've only seen it two or three times over the past year. Even though I usually avoid it, I have to admit it's a really nice, touching scene – but then, I'm a sucker for Faye/Harry interactions. I mentioned before that I prefer James Traherne's Harry to Edward Halsted's broader, more stylized take – but actually, Edward's style really lends itself to scenes like this. While I'd probably rather follow James for a loop, I think Edward plays the better supporting character for Faye.

I also found a new contender for most heartbreaking line of dialogue: “Pop, I hate it here so much.” It's a simple, shallow statement – the sort of thing a kid would say on a boring family vacation – but the way she said it transformed it into something else entirely. There was such desperation behind it – a woman's pain voiced with a child's words. The tears that had begun to ebb surged anew.

One “hush little baby” later, Faye was drifting off to sleep. I felt a bit of panic as I watched her breathing slow and become more regular, and her face relax. In a few moments, she would be gone – the reset music would play and she would wake up as a new person, ready to start the day again, to go through the same ordeal. There were only seconds left – not nearly enough time to turn her story around, to make things just a little bit better. It was too late, and it felt horrible.

Once, somewhere back in the history of these write-ups, I said that Faye's story peters out at the reset. I clearly had no idea what I was talking about.

Moments later, the reset music kicked in and Faye awoke for her day. Harry returned, and managed to cheer both Faye and me up. I love this first scene between the two of them so much – there's so much love and warmth, it's really unlike anything else in the show. I just spent the whole time thinking about how much I loved all the little bits of it. I love the way Sonya calls him “Pop,” which I don't remember any other Fayes doing. I love the way Edward uses sheer gusto to power through some dicey singing. I love the funny voice Faye uses when singing along with him, and her response to his excitement that she's going to use Codfish Ball for the audition (“of course, it's the only one I know.”) Says so much about them, right there. And of course, “Today is the day! For Faye!” If it wasn't for this scene, I probably never would have stopped crying.

Next up, she dropped her dress off at the Seamstress's shop, a scene I'd long ago given up actually trying to get in to see, and then we were off to the arcade for the “I Wanna Hug Ya, Kiss Ya, Squeeze Ya” dance. Clearly I was still struggling with my emotions even after the reset, because I found myself tearing up at the sight of what is, really, a fun, light-hearted number. The audition featured the most aggressive stomping I've yet seen from Sonya, and another new detail I hadn't ever picked up on before – the look of desperation and frustration on her face as she descended from the stage, clearly believing that she'd blown the audition through no fault of her own.

After her dance with the Barman (Ygal Jerome Tsur), I got to see him launch into a lengthy spiel about his upcoming fiesta, and how he would only give her the studio pass if she promised to come. This was new to me – in the past, the Barman typically insisted on a kiss, instead, and didn't mention the hoedown at all. It was an amusing bit, and nice to see an animated, chatty Barman. I felt a little bad that I never got around to spending much time with him, especially after so many of my friends raved and raved and went out of their way to follow him over and over (including a big group outing that very night). But at least I got a little taste of the Fiesta Barman.

Then it was time for Bulldog. I found my usual area to stand in, sacrificing my view of the bedroom in favor of the kitchen and locker room. As Stanford gave his instructions to Faye (“Miss Greener, this is your big shot, so make it count. Let me see those eyes twinkle.”), I found myself tearing up yet again. Faye's face in that moment, eyes to the sky, full of hope and promise, is the enduring, iconic image of Sonya's Faye for me, and has been ever since my first loop with her way back in September. When I think of her, that's the moment I see – which I guess explains why I got emotional about it. But then the moment passed, and the song started up, and it's just too much fun to cry through – so I didn't. I followed Faye out to the Seamstress's workroom, watched her delight as she found the new shoes and dress, and then, having come full circle, peeled off for the stairs when she headed back out to town. Those last bits had restored me to an even keel, emotionally speaking – at least temporarily. Time to return to Stanford.

As expected, I made it to the basement just in time for the initiation. Oddly, the room wasn't particularly crowded, and I was easily able to take my usual spot – because where else would I want to be? Like many of the scenes featuring several characters, I feel there's not much more I can say, as I've seen them so many times – but I will add that the confetti always surprises me, because I so often catch this scene in the first loop, when there is none. When Stanford handed out the part of the Grandmother to Dolores (Bryony Perkins), I slipped out to make sure I was in a good viewing position for his next scene with Romola (Sarah Sweeney).

This scene was an early favorite for me, when I first saw it near the start of my second show. While other scenes have since overtaken it in my esteem, I still felt a nostalgic pang, watching it play out for the final time. That's just the sort of sentimental mood I was in. I suppose you can guess what the end result of that was – waterworks, round two. As soon as the scratchy sounds of a record player started up, leading into “Where or When,” it all started up again. Twice in one night – I didn't think I had it in me.

The thing that really set me off, though, was Stanford's face as he danced. My first loop with Stanford, back and my third show, had left me with the impression of a man trying to achieve a good end through bad acts. He seemed guilty and regretful, especially with Romola, and not entirely under his own control. It struck me strongly enough to inspire a whole, extensive (and later debunked) theory about the “real story” of The Drowned Man, and Stanford's role as the hero in that story. Ever since then, as if mocking me, Sam's Stanford has gotten more and more nasty, controlling, and vicious in this scene. My impression of him as sympathetic, tragic hero was torn apart and stamped into the mud.

But not this time. There was no smug, evil sneer on his face as he danced – but rather a remorseful, almost shell-shocked stare, with tracess of a deeply buried panic. For the first time in many months, I saw glimmers of Stanford as I first knew him, and it broke my heart.

When it came time to leave for the rolling desk dance, I trailed behind. I wound up spending the dance tucked into a corner of the Temple Anteroom, half-watching and half-pulling myself together. Afterward, drunk off of orgy juice, Stanford headed into the Temple and began a little bit of a dance – much more of a dance than I remembered him doing before - and eventually collapsed. He gestured toward a white mask just to my side, but when the mask leaned in, another went with him. Then a third leaned in, then several more – he was surrounded. Instead of whispering in an ear, he addressed us all - “You are the camera. Record everything. Shutters open. Record, record, record” He looked around the room, locking eyes with as many people as possible and pointing at them, repeating “record.” Even me, standing several feet back from the ring around him. It felt so strange to have this moment displayed out in the open like that, shared amongst us all. On the one hand it was kind of nice, binding us all as a community. On the other, a bit sad - these were the end times, and there was no use for secrets anymore.

Then came the orgy, and Stanford's early exit via wheelchair. I had pulled back from the crowd early to make sure I could follow him out, and managed to get right behind him. We creeped slowly down the hallway, and god damn it, I started to tear up again. I love this walk, a nice, creepy moment of calm in the midst of all the late-loop chaos. When we emerged into the larger hallway near the stairs, I hung back, hoping to follow him into the frisky corridor. I stayed put as he directed so, so many people up the stairs after Wendy (Leslie Kraus) and Andrea (Kirsty Arnold), instructing them to “stay tight. Everyone stay tight. Stay tight. You – you'd better go wide. Everyone else, stay tight.” After what seemed like more than a hundred people had been funneled up to the ground floor, he took a white mask's hands, creating the barrier for Lila to smash through – and then started funneling people into George Buchanan's office after her. I remained stubbornly in my place, determined to make it to the frisky corridor, but he was having none of it – he grabbed my shoulder and physically forced me over to the office. Ah, well. At least it would give me a couple more minutes with Laure's Lila, since I wasn't going to be doing her loop.

Lila's Discovery went as usual, with a bit of a flub – real Stanford's line “a whatever it is” was a little late, and overlapped VO Stanford's “Good.” At the end, I didn't follow Stanford or Lila out of the room – it wasn't worth it to even attempt to be the one person who got to follow him, and given the state I was in, I didn't think I could handle a tearful corridor breakdown from Laure. Instead, I waited a moment as the crowd thinned out, and then headed to the temple to wait for Stanford's return. There, I was found myself lulled by the solitude and the quiet, ominous drone of the basement soundtrack, and didn't even notice Stanford's return until he set the postcard pedestal down a few feet behind me with a loud “thunk.”  He took a seat at the orgy table, and soon the Doctor (James Finnemore) arrived for their reset scene. It was stripped down a bit from the equivalent scene I had seen two nights earlier with Sam's Doctor and Adam Burton's Stanford – basically the same, but without that slick little mirrored dance. It seemed to end almost before it began, and I became acutely aware that we were now into the third and final loop. Soon, I would need to leave to find Andrea.

I stuck around for one more scene – I wanted to see Stanford do the crazy typing spasm at the desk in the photo room and select Wendy's creepy, eyeless photo. By the end of it, though, I was starting to get paranoid – I really, really wanted to catch Andrea's trailer dance. Really, really, really. And I couldn't remember exactly how early it would start. Third scene, I figured, or was it second?

You gotta prioritize. I had said my goodbye to Stanford, so best to move on. I slipped out of the room as he began his phone call, and headed up to the ground floor – or at least, in the direction of the ground floor. Before I could continue, I had to get past the PA (Stephanie Nightingale), who was leading her entourage toward the 2:2 room. I nearly bowled her over as I turned a corner, and she fixed me with a stare. Slowly, I inched my way around her, and she just kept turning to maintain eye contact. I was terrified that she was about to grab me. Funny, that – afraid of being chosen. Never thought that would happen. But I was a man with a mission. When I finally made it past her, I breathed an actual sigh of relief and headed upstairs.

When I got to Studio 2, I found that, true to form, I was actually really early. Marshall (Jesse Kovarsky), Dolores, and Frankie (Daniel Whiley) were cavorting in front of the caravans. I briefly considered trying to track down Andrea (presumably in Studio 4), but I decided against – she would be there soon enough, and this scene was essentially brand new material to me. I hadn't seen it since my first Dolores loop, all the way back at my very first show. The first loop of my first show, in fact. I had literally forgotten everything about it – even some of the music was completely unfamiliar.

After a few minutes, Andrea and Wendy walked in, arm in arm, announced by Frankie like the big damn stars they are. I've said it before – I love this particular pairing. Kirsty and Leslie make such a great match, looking almost more like sisters than friends. It was worth missing out on the last minute or two of their Studio 4 scene to catch that entrance from the front.

Soon everyone except for Andrea headed off to the birthday tent, and she hopped atop the caravans to dance. It was absolutely lovely, and cast an amazing, specific mood. It felt like evening in the late summer, like smoky campouts and the last moments in the fading light before everyone says goodbye forever. I could already tell this loop was going to be just as difficult as the others, as the tears sprung yet again to my eyes – but didn't release. Not yet.

Once Andrea came back down to earth, we headed up for her audition, and I used the trick I picked up from Faye's loop, cutting through the back door to get a good seat just behind Claude for her audition. The audition was a rousing success, and soon we were off to Bulldog. I hung back, watching from a distance, so that I could sneak back to the dressing area afterward. Having discovered that she and Dwayne have some actual dialogue there a couple of shows earlier, I wanted to be sure to catch it. The exchange was brief, but worth the trouble – Dwayne commented that they “made a good team,” and Andrea, ever cool and unflappable, simply smiled and said, “yeah, on camera it sure looks like it.” Zing.

The next stop was the dressing room, where Andrea changed into her costume for the magic trick. That was where I realized that the situation was not precisely as I had expected. I figured this was her final “proper” loop as Andrea, and that she'd be doing another round at the finale. But when we got to her dressing table, I saw that someone had written, “Andrea, I will miss you!” with a heart below the exclamation point in lipstick on the mirror. There was only one explanation for that – this wasn't the last proper loop. This was the last loop, period. In just a few short scenes, Kirsty's Andrea – the first character I ever had a moment of connection with, would be no more. Forever. Again, my vision blurred with those damn tears that suddenly refused to actually fall. I looked around, in a near-panic, wanting to grab everyone and shout “Do you see that?! Do you understand what's going on here?!” But of course, I couldn't.

Soon Conrad (Ben Whybrow) emerged and they proceeded to Studio 3. When I arrived, I found several of my friends already gathered around a table near the gazebo, ready to watch the magic trick, and I joined them. Just before starting, Conrad gave his usual “it's water” comment, referring to his drink, and set it at our table, telling my friend Alex to taste it. She ignored it at first, until someone else asked if she was going to taste it. She said that he's said that to her on many occasions, and that she'd never actually done it. After all, why would you? With a little bit of prompting, she finally gave in and took a sip, and her eyes went wide at the realization that it was most definitely not water. We all took turns tasting it, confirming the diagnosis, and thus began a little game, as Virna and Alex raced to finish off Conrad's gin before the end of the magic trick, passing the glass under the table and taking sips and gulps whenever he wasn't looking.

As for the magic trick itself: fun as always. It was nice to catch Kirsty's rendition one last time, as I always felt that Fania's version was missing something – namely, a punchline. The whole thing is a lead-up to Andrea's reappearance sans dress. Once said dress made its first appearance, poking out through a whole in the middle of the box, Conrad seemed to target it deliberately, making sure that each subsequent pole exited the box in roughly the same spot, pulling and tearing the beleaguered piece of fabric in every direction. By the time he was finished, that whole chunk of the front of the cardboard box was one massive, jagged hole. I guess that particular dress was never going to be used again anyway.

After Andrea emerged from the box, Lexie (Jo Bowis) announced ”The beautiful Andrea is about to go film on set in another country, so let's give it up for this beautiful girl!  We're gonna miss her!" confirming my realization from the mirror and inducing another round of almost-but-not-quite crying from me as the room exploded with thunderous applause for her. Most of my friends stuck around – after all, they were in the middle of a Studio 3 loop, but I slipped out quietly to continue on with Andrea. I didn't really feel like laughing and chatting and "Telephone" anyway.

After a brief pause in the dressing room, the next stop was Studio 5, for the Infidelity Ballet. I grabbed my usual spot, right in front of Andrea's stage. It's funny how rarely I've actually watched the Wendy/Frankie portion of this scene. With only a few, rare exceptions, no matter who I'm following, my eyes are on Andrea. Must be the red dress. As I stood there, she caught my eye for a second and I thought I saw a momentary flicker of. . . something. Recognition, perhaps? Surely not. It had been months since the last time I followed her. But there was some sort of acknowledgment in there – or at least, that's what I chose to see.

Unfortunately, my position, while great for watching Andrea dance, was not so ideal for the forced medication interaction. The Doctor positioned himself so that Andrea's back was to me, the Seamstress was behind her, also back to me, and both of them combined completely blocked my view of him. No faces visible, whatsoever. I was similarly stymied when leaving the Studio – I missed much of the excited giggling between Wendy and Andrea as they discussed the upcoming party while on the move, on account of getting stuck behind way too many people.

Leaving the dressing room, however, I managed to strategize myself back into a good position, and had an excellent vantage point for the whole journey to the Masonic Temple, complete with confident, dreamy, big-damn-movie-star strut. Once we got to the temple, I tried very hard to position myself in the proper “Andrea spot.” During my previous orgy, with Stanford, I had even taken note of exactly which light she stood under, to make sure that I didn't mess it up. Sadly, the scene was well underway by the time we got there, and very well attended by white masks. The best I could manage was several feet down. No orgy eyes for me.

But then, as the line dance took shape, Andrea's gaze slowly slipped down the crowd of people. Instead of looking at the person directly across from her, she started looking down the line, right at me. This was huge for me. When I mentioned earlier that she was the first character I ever had a moment of connection with, this is the moment I mean. In my first loop at my first show, while following Dolores, I wound up standing near Andrea for the line dance. And the look she gave me, locking eyes as the line advanced – I'll never forget it. Quite possibly the sexiest thing I've ever seen, and even after having seen Sleep No More repeatedly before that, that level of intense acknowledgment completely blew me away.  It was where I first started to fall in love with the show.

This time wasn't so sexy. I was far too emotional for that. Those same tears that had haunted me all loop were once again brimming in my eyes, as I realized I had come full circle, back to the very beginning.

As much as I love the pre-orgy line dance, I do find the orgy itself a little bit boring, so once everyone rushed the table, I moved out to the hallway, making sure I could follow Andrea and Wendy closely as they ran out of the room. Everything went according to plan, so this time I was able to listen to their conversation in the staircase - Andrea trying in vain to calm Wendy down, even as she struggled to understand her own role in Wendy's humiliation.

When we got to the dressing room, the two women embraced for a long, long time. They weren't just comforting each other, they were saying goodbye. I began to feel that gnawing panic in the back of my mind, knowing that we were nearly at the end of something I didn't want to let go of. Finally, they released each other and moved over to the dressing tables, where Wendy gave Andrea her watch. Then they parted, and Andrea headed for the kitchenette to get a glass of water.

Now, I have a bit of history with Andrea in this scene, particularly Kirsty's Andrea. For the longest time, I always wound up doing the same thing – I would follow her into the kitchenette, and step back out of the way while she paused at the counter to compose herself. Invariably, my “out of the way” spot was right in front of the cupboard she needed to get into. I think this happened four times in a row. I was determined not to let it happen again (even though, of course, she probably wouldn't remember any of that anyway), so I stayed out of the kitchenette entirely, watching from the other side of the counter instead. As she headed for the cabinet, I wondered briefly if the Fool would emerge to menace her – I hadn't seen the third loop version of the scene since he started hiding behind the door. He did not, thankfully. I do enjoy that addition to the loop, but the moment was all about Andrea, and I wanted it to stay that way.

My choice of viewing position turned out to be very fortuitous in two ways. First, it gave me a great look at “we live inside a dream,” scrawled on the back wall of the cabinet. I knew the words were in there, but in all this time, I don't believe I had ever actually seen them myself, always standing in the wrong spot. Second, and much more importantly, I had a front-row seat – literally inches away – as Andrea returned to the counter and looked up at Wendy's box in the rafters, realizing that her friend was gone. As she looked up, I saw a single, dark, mascara-stained tear rolling slowly down her right cheek. This was extraordinary. Kirsty has always played Andrea as very cool and reserved. She's not one to jump up and down screaming for you to stare at her tears. This is not to say she doesn't emote – just that it comes out in a different form, in her dance and movement. To see this single, beautiful black tear right where I least expected it was completely overwhelming, and my own tears surged forward again – but they didn't break.

She left the kitchenette and returned to the dressing tables to change back into her early-loop dress for the finale. One last costume change, because that's what Andrea does: she changes clothes. It's her thing. I used to find it a little awkward, but just this once it was warmly comforting. Then, she looked up, caught my eye, and took my hand.

Finally, the wave of tears that had been building all loop crested and began to pour out of me. That full circle I mentioned before was now even more complete. I walked down to the murder, hand in hand with Kirsty's Andrea, just as I had at the end of that very first show. I don't think I can fully explain just how much it meant to me to revisit that moment, for her final walkdown to bring me back to my very first. By the time we got to the mound I was properly sobbing, and as she held me during the murder, instead of squeezing me tighter at each stab of the scissors, she squeezed each time she felt my chest heaving.

And then, Wendy dropped Marshall down the hole, Stanford called “wrap,” and the room exploded with cheering. I felt Andrea's hands slipping away, dragging along my arms almost like a caress. I turned to see her slip away into the darkness. I'm not even sure where I wound up after that; I was mostly oblivious to the rest of the finale, and eventually stumbled into Studio 3 almost in a daze. I was completely unused to crying like that, so three hours of slipping in and out of such a state was nearly more than I could handle. It was the show I had been hoping for all week, the one that reminded me exactly what it was that makes The Drowned Man so special to me – its ability to make me feel, in ways that nothing else can. One for the books, with the most intensely emotional ending possible.

Or so I thought. With the late show still to come, the night would prove to hold one more surprise for me.