We spent a whirlwind less-than-24-hours in New York during our East Coast trip over the holidays, setting aside the evening for Sleep No More. It was an amazing show. I feel for it the way I must have felt the very first time I saw Cirque du Soleil (Saltimbanco, ’93), it was that different.

Viva approves of Sleep No More (the program).

For days afterward, Bill and I couldn’t not talk about the show, knowing full well that telling other people about the show is kind of bad. The basics are: It’s a retelling of Macbeth set in a very film noir 1940s – so it’s a very loose, abstract retelling of Macbeth. (I think if you walk in knowing vaguely about witch prophecies and people killing people you’ll be fine.) It’s a production that’s a full-on, interactive experience, so no two people see, hear, or do the same things as the other. Punchdrunk Emursive took over a five-story office building in the Meatpacking District and converted it into the “McKittrick Hotel,” where you don’t buy tickets, you make reservations, and every room is open to your curiosity. You roam at your own pace, meaning you can check out the ballroom, put your head in the tub on the deserted hospital floor, or roll open a drawer in the taxidermist’s office, coming and going as you please. You can follow the actor-dancers throughout the hotel. You can also not follow the actor-dancers throughout the hotel. Not a word is to be spoken between you and the rest of the masked audience (and they’re plastic Italian drama masks – super creepy, so Hell yes we kept ours), though the actor-dancers might utter a sentence or two throughout their entire two-ish hour show. (The most I heard was Lady Macbeth yelling “Are you a man?” at Macbeth.)

Like I alluded to before, every person’s experience is unique. I’ve since heard of friends who have experienced Sleep No More four or five times just to gain more perspectives and come away with more stories. One person had a one-on-one interaction with an actor involving jelly beans injected with black liquid. Bill watched an acrobatic duet with only five other audience members.

Me? I went to the satanic rave orgy twice because I thought it was a good party. (And I saw not one, but two! naked men.) Continue reading »