I’m relatively sure that upon its debut in New York City in the early 2010’s, Punchdrunk’s immersive theatrical experience, “Sleep No More” -- which my wife and I went to last weekend -- was a genuinely revelatory and authentically radical event, rife with disorienting sensory engulfment, sensuous interaction and a palpable element of anything-might-happen risk. Tales emerged of audience members getting lost amidst the sprawling, multi-floored set of impenetrably dark rooms, long hallways, narrow passages and forbidding chambers filled with the unpredictable. The players were rumored to sometimes directly interact with the spectators in disarming manners both unprecedented and intimate. The whole production sounded bohemian, bacchanalian, seductive and not-just-a-little taboo.
Almost thirteen years later, however, it should be noted that the cat is largely out of the bag. In much the same way the equally ambitious, arty and interactive “Blue Man Group” has since become as boldly experimental as a trip to the raw bar at the Times Square Bubba Gump Shrimp Co., strolls through the sexy gloaming of “Sleep No More” have been, shall we charitably say, discovered by the masses. Where once patrons may have felt like they were being privy to a singularly esoteric experience, shuffling through the tiers of “Sleep No More” in 2023 feels more akin trying to walk amidst the hordes along the High Line than slipping into a shadowy realm of avant-garde theatre. Sparsely lit spaces within its interior intended to evoke an atmosphere of sepulchral dread tend to lose their carefully cultivated mystique when you’re sharing them with pushy tourists, incongruously clad in dayglo crocs and Taylor Swift t-shirts beneath the stylish Venetian face masks all patrons are required to wear throughout their three hours in the space.
I originally had much more to say about this, but figured I'd just leave it at that, as many might still be keen on seeing it.
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