Punchdrunk & SMG Live : Sleep No More - Shanghai
- 30 Sept, 2017
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Let’s head to February 2017. I was in Shanghai for a few days for work and after a quick 2-hour nap after we arrived from London, we pulled up outside a nondescript building with a long line making its way around the corner. The sun was low and kept casting strange shadows created by people queuing on to the side of the building. As we made our way towards the front and entered the building, handing over our coats, bags, and locked up our mobile phones in pouches draped around our necks, it felt like it was a little more than coincidence that our bodies had been casting those strangely grotesque shadows outside. Maybe I was hyper aware, knowing I was going to see (or experience) Macbeth in a totally new way, and my mind couldn’t help but draw parallels.
The first task was to make it to the bar - a very unsettling experience. We stumbled our way through a maze in the darkness, with only a few lights dotted here and there. You could hear the unease as people called out to each other, screamed to hold hands, walked into walls. The tension was already high. After what felt like a short eternity (but probably only about 3 minutes), we were welcomed into a beautiful 1930s style room, with a well stocked bar taking up the whole length of one wall. The red velvet chairs and booths were inviting, but already full as the audience swayed to the jazz rhythms coming from the stage. It could have been the middle of the night for all we knew, and I wasn’t even sure if the audience in there were actors or spectators. Maybe they were a mix of both.
We entered through the red velvet curtain as our number was called out. In we went, a group of about 14. First things first, a mask to wear. All white. All like a Venetian or Commedia dell’Arte character mask. Identities stripped, we entered the lift. We started to ascend, and then stopped – the door opened and our host pushed someone beyond the black curtain on to the first floor. I tried to follow, but was pulled back. The next floor, and one other person was deposited. A couple desperately clung together for the next stop, despite our host’s best efforts to split them up. Finally, we were all let loose on the top floor. We had 2 ½ hours to roam five floors, alone, exploring the different settings, scenes, and trying to piece together the short vignettes that were repeated by actors running from one place to the next. Yes, we would probably miss a lot of the action. Yes, we were likely to get lost, maybe miss out a whole floor, but the pulsating energy and buzz that enveloped us was like nothing I’d ever felt before.
There was a forest, a hotel, a shop, workshop and a lavish bedroom. I found myself on my own in a nearly deserted hospital apart from one young female character on the other side of the room. There must have been hundreds of people in the building, yet there I was, alone with the actor that stared so blankly through me. Despite the eeriness and plain awkwardness of the situation, the mask provided some courage, a boldness that came with not really exposing yourself throughout the whole experience. Nobody knew who you were, where you were from, and nobody would ever know. You could react however you wanted to. I lingered there much longer than I thought I would.
After witnessing a couple of murders, a woman eating a human heart ever so serenely, nostalgic dancers in the hotel lobby, and a workshop so noisy it shook your bones, the experience culminated in the main hall, set up like a banquet reminiscent of the scene of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last Supper. The whole audience piled in as different sections of the building were closed off. I honestly can’t say exactly what happened in this last scene. There were a lot of flashing lights, slow motion movement, nervous energy in the room, and a general feeling of exhaustion after being on our feet for so long, exploring this adventure of emotions.
Mind blown, it took a while to shake off the whole experience. I was thinking about it for a good few days. The element of chance and general chaos was refreshing. The way the Chinese audience in Shanghai reacted was a world away from us Brits – we certainly stuck out by always holding back, making space for the actors whilst the rest of the audience crowded ever closer around the action or chased them down dark hallways. I’d never experienced anything quite like it, and somehow I don’t think I ever will again.
P.S. Sorry no photos, everything was confiscated but there are plenty online if you want to get a flavour!
The first task was to make it to the bar - a very unsettling experience. We stumbled our way through a maze in the darkness, with only a few lights dotted here and there. You could hear the unease as people called out to each other, screamed to hold hands, walked into walls. The tension was already high. After what felt like a short eternity (but probably only about 3 minutes), we were welcomed into a beautiful 1930s style room, with a well stocked bar taking up the whole length of one wall. The red velvet chairs and booths were inviting, but already full as the audience swayed to the jazz rhythms coming from the stage. It could have been the middle of the night for all we knew, and I wasn’t even sure if the audience in there were actors or spectators. Maybe they were a mix of both.
We entered through the red velvet curtain as our number was called out. In we went, a group of about 14. First things first, a mask to wear. All white. All like a Venetian or Commedia dell’Arte character mask. Identities stripped, we entered the lift. We started to ascend, and then stopped – the door opened and our host pushed someone beyond the black curtain on to the first floor. I tried to follow, but was pulled back. The next floor, and one other person was deposited. A couple desperately clung together for the next stop, despite our host’s best efforts to split them up. Finally, we were all let loose on the top floor. We had 2 ½ hours to roam five floors, alone, exploring the different settings, scenes, and trying to piece together the short vignettes that were repeated by actors running from one place to the next. Yes, we would probably miss a lot of the action. Yes, we were likely to get lost, maybe miss out a whole floor, but the pulsating energy and buzz that enveloped us was like nothing I’d ever felt before.
There was a forest, a hotel, a shop, workshop and a lavish bedroom. I found myself on my own in a nearly deserted hospital apart from one young female character on the other side of the room. There must have been hundreds of people in the building, yet there I was, alone with the actor that stared so blankly through me. Despite the eeriness and plain awkwardness of the situation, the mask provided some courage, a boldness that came with not really exposing yourself throughout the whole experience. Nobody knew who you were, where you were from, and nobody would ever know. You could react however you wanted to. I lingered there much longer than I thought I would.
After witnessing a couple of murders, a woman eating a human heart ever so serenely, nostalgic dancers in the hotel lobby, and a workshop so noisy it shook your bones, the experience culminated in the main hall, set up like a banquet reminiscent of the scene of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last Supper. The whole audience piled in as different sections of the building were closed off. I honestly can’t say exactly what happened in this last scene. There were a lot of flashing lights, slow motion movement, nervous energy in the room, and a general feeling of exhaustion after being on our feet for so long, exploring this adventure of emotions.
Mind blown, it took a while to shake off the whole experience. I was thinking about it for a good few days. The element of chance and general chaos was refreshing. The way the Chinese audience in Shanghai reacted was a world away from us Brits – we certainly stuck out by always holding back, making space for the actors whilst the rest of the audience crowded ever closer around the action or chased them down dark hallways. I’d never experienced anything quite like it, and somehow I don’t think I ever will again.
P.S. Sorry no photos, everything was confiscated but there are plenty online if you want to get a flavour!
Earlier this month, I had the great pleasure to travel to Toronto with the wonderful alt-pop Welsh band, HMS Morris. Here are some tips for showcasing as a band.
