“Follow the light” is the very simple instruction from immersive theatre company Punchdrunk in their latest production after the sensational take on Greek mythology that was The Burnt City, designed to navigate us through a dimly lit dreamscape as Harry Potter star Helena Bonham-Carter narrates Daisy Johnson’s story of Viola’s Room. Unfortunately, I fear this audio-based experience – even with all its accommodations for those who need them – remains inaccessible to deaf and hard of hearing theatregoers.
The overwhelming sensory experiences on offer by Punchdrunk are, I find, both a blessing and a curse. I have no doubt some took issue with the harsh lighting and dazzling maze that was The Burnt City, while others (myself included) found it to be terrifically kaleidoscopic. It’s likely the same applies here. While I only needed to occupy myself with the intense visual input for Punchdrunk’s previous production, as a Deaf patron experiencing Viola’s Room and having to juggle what little visual input is available alongside Bonham-Carter’s softly spoken narration, I found myself having an either/or experience as opposed to something more cohesive.
You’re given over-ear headphones for this experience – great for hearing aids – or, in my case, a separate set with “voice enhanced” settings, although I couldn’t detect much of a pronounced change in the audio track. At this point in the review, though, I must give credit to the Punchdrunk team and Bread and Butter PR, who have been exemplary and went above and beyond to ensure I had what I needed from a technical standpoint. They did everything they could.
I get why Bonham-Carter needs to be quiet for this particular experience. After meeting your fellow travellers (such is a typical Punchdrunk production that there is a silent camaraderie between yourself and other patrons, in addition to one’s individual interpretation), putting your shoes in a cardboard present box and listening to an audio briefing in a circle staring at a dimly lit light (interestingly, I found the male voice here to have a better balance of quietness and clarity), you’re told to lie down on a bed in Viola’s Room. As you listen to the narration in complete darkness, it makes sense that Bonham-Carter talks gently.
The problem, though, is that with such delicacy comes a loss of diction. The bass in a person’s voice becomes more pronounced and so, in addition to navigating the visual wonders which emerge before us (more on that shortly), I was having to decipher what few sentences I could gather to maintain some grasp on the story, which in my very limited understanding pertained to a young girl grieving the loss of her mother who proceeds to go on a dreamy adventure involving dancing in a forest. A read of The Guardian after the experience informs me it seems to be adapted by Johnson from Barry Pain’s short story, The Moon-Slave, which upon reading the tale of a girl obsessed with dancing, makes sense.
Though even when I couldn’t follow the story, I was struck by its abrupt conclusion. With prior Punchdrunk experiences being complimentary in terms of the senses, it was odd finding ourselves in one final room conveying one thing, and Bonham-Carter’s narration sounding unfinished in saying another. The script – which I kindly received a few days after leaving Cardinal Place, confirms it, detailing a short story which, while rich in descriptive language, falls flat in terms of substance.
From a sound design perspective, plosives and fricatives are usually helpful tonal crutches for following speech. And yet, in being sharp and harsh in their presentation, they are not as pronounced as they need to be. Gareth Fry (of David Tennant’s Macbeth fame) leads this area of work for this project, and it’s a real shame that the cleverly crafted intimacy of the Donmar production – which did not sacrifice audio quality – doesn’t translate here. There are, however, some epic songs in the production’s tracklist, from Seal’s “Kiss From A Rose” to “Angel” by Massive Attack – the latter of which never fails to make things just that little more dramatic.
And so, in the absence of a clear sense of plot, I am left to remark upon the visual elements of this experience. With the aforementioned ‘follow the light’ instruction being the centrepiece here, strong lighting design is paramount, and Simon Wilkinson triumphs. There’s gorgeous silhouette work in early scenes around Viola’s venture into the garden, and the gradual increase in light towards the end does well not to leave us disorientated as the result of our eyes suddenly adjusting to natural light levels.
When combined with designs from Casey Jay Andrews, the results are fascinating. Most of the time we gravitate towards fluffy, cloud-like lights overhead like human moths, brushing up against soft fabrics either side of us – especially in claustrophobic later scenes where it really does feel as though we are buried under duvet covers. Perhaps it’s my poor balance (although we are told we will walk through uneven surfaces with our bare feet at points), but there were moments where I had to steady myself and didn’t exactly feel centred on how I was standing. Whatever the answer may be – it’s hard to find them in near total darkness – it certainly added to a sense of giddiness and a kind of sleepwalking as we wander through the environments.
And these spaces, co-designed by Felix Barrett (who conceived Viola’s Room and also co-directs it with Hector Harkness) come with Punchdrunk’s trademark attention to detail, akin to rooms in The Burnt City. Notes on bedroom walls and one balloon-filled dining room – which even has the aroma of real food when it’s fake – are created vividly with beautiful intricacy. The level of consideration extends to the more technical elements of audience participation, too, as we’re offered sanitising spray, towels and – afterwards – a warm foot bath to get everything clean. It’s rather luxurious!
For what is around an hour in length, Barrett and Harkness establish a dynamic pace throughout, beginning with gentle, swirling lights before moving onto more aggressive, flickering displays as Bonham-Carter hurries us along to the next scene, against louder, rock-heavy background music. It excites the senses with aromas, playful experimentation with light and dark, and intense audio. We’re told not to move anything in the spaces we encounter, but there is still plenty of different textures to touch and feel, too.
Is it trying to say and do too much? I fear the answer is yes. If you’re not forced to choose between the audio and visual experiences, when they’re intended to be consumed together, then there’s the challenge of taking everything in, in so few moments of silence. There’s enough anticipation as to what environment your group will head to next to maintain enough intrigue to last you through the twists and turns of the adventure, especially when the lights are off, but sadly, I found myself left in the dark long after I came back into the light.
★★★
Viola’s Room is now playing at Punchdrunk, near Woolwich, until 18 August. Access information is available on Punchdrunk’s website.
Production Images: Julian Abrams.
Disclaimer: I was invited to watch ‘Viola’s Room’ for free in exchange for a review of the performance as a member of the press. I did not receive payment for this article and all opinions stated above are honest and my own.
Liam O'Dell 