Punchdrunk fabricates its new immersive gothic fairy tale through the magic of light
Absolute, ultimate darkness. Light is your only guide, your redemption. Follow the
cotton-shaped lanterns, barefoot, and listen to the voice of Helena Bonham Carter.
Her enchanting, gentle voice unfolds the story of Viola, a princess who flees from
her engagement party, finding herself entranced by the moon, and dancing
restlessly.
Co-directed by Felix Barrett and Hector Harkness, and rewritten by Daisy Johnson
based on Barry Pain’s gothic mystery The Moon Slave, Viola’s Room transforms the
story into a fantastical fairy tale laced with a touch of uncanny horror, while
retaining its original essence of obsession and compulsion.
Unlike The Burnt City, which demanded a certain degree of stamina, Viola’s Room is
linear, with nothing to really explore or interact with. It’s a pure, immersive
experience. Most of the time, participants are in murky darkness, wearing
expensive, high-quality Bowers & Wilkins headphones, navigating their paths
barefoot through dimly lit cotton lanterns in narrow, wimey corridors.
Through its many magical and delicate tricks played with light and dark, Viola’s
bedroom is revealed to us (a bit like Molly’s room in What Remains of Edith Finch),
along with her castle, the dining room of her engagement party, a chapel displaying
the crucifix, and her path towards a giant tree where she dances under the
moonlight. Carter’s soothing, bewitching voice may be lost in the focus on the
guiding lights — lit to proceed, dark to stay. But never mind, just follow the flow.
Frankly, I was expecting a hurricane of sensations to roll over me, or a story
revealed in exhilaration and awe. Neither maximises to full body. The sensations
are too tiptoeing. They are intriguing to a certain extent, but not transformative or
breathtaking enough. The last bit of tactile experience (possibly the entire reason
for being barefoot) is witty, but it comes as mild and superficial, failing to build up
emotional and physical connection with the audience.
Similarly, the navigation through the cramped, shadowy corridors could be more
emotionally and psychologically devouring and overwhelming, driving the audience
to near desperation before they find their oasis — the light. If so, this creepy gothic
horror could be elevated into something uncannily sublime, denoted by the tactile
experience near the end. Sadly, the overall sensory experiences are just too lukewarm and tentative. For a story or experience like this, emotional suffocation is
necessary.
I also feel it’s a pity that although Viola’s bedroom is exhaustively designed, you
cannot really interact with the props or learn more information about her. They are
merely ambient. Your companions sometimes matter as well, even though you are
not interacting with each other. Often, we found ourselves head-counting to make
sure no one was missing in the dark, another distracting factor for an immersive
experience. Last but not least, do wear casual and keep warm; it’s still a bit chill
inside.
Still an enjoyable experience, Viola’s Room feels more like an immersive installation
than an impressive theatrical piece of storytelling.