An immersive production that brilliantly transforms a Grade II listed cottage in London into a home for a beloved play’s unique revival.
For the more conventional theatre goer, immersive theatre can have an odd smell about it. Whether it’s the dread of forced, hideously performative audience participation or the hands-off walk-through “experience” that often leaves one feeling emptier than they did upon arrival – there are many reasons why immersive theatre has been pushed into its own corner of the theatre world. This restaging of Nick Payne’s iconic play CONSTELLATIONS at Clarendon Cottage – a Grade II-listed historic building in the centre of Enfield – has proved that perhaps that very corner is the one in which we creators and consumers of theatre should actually aspire to be.
At 17 Gentleman’s Row, Clarendon Cottage is one of the oldest houses of its kind in London. Built in the 1450s and having undergone multiple renovations and a restoration in 2020, the Cottage now stands as a local landmark and functions as a B&B for itinerant travelers.
As a result of its multiple reincarnations over the centuries – originally a 15th century hall house, then a school house, and, at one point, home to the writer Charles Lamb – Clarendon Cottage is a cozy hive of small adjoined rooms connected by narrow (and sometimes secret!) passageways. This poses a dicey challenge to anyone with the job of gracefully ushering a small crowd of spectators through it. It was not, however, a problem for this team.
Masterfully directed by Faith Hart – an American director making her London debut and fresh off of assistant directing Fool For Love at the Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago – this production of Constellations embraced the cottage’s architectural demands, indeed drawing energy from the moments that could have thrown the piece off its hinges. This was particularly apparent in the transitions between rooms, in which the momentum of the story could have stumbled but instead only became more rooted and precise.
In one memorable transition, I was the first audience member to follow Marianne (Adelaide Leonard) out of a room. Aware of the crowd billowing behind me, I felt the urge to rush to the next location but was quickly stopped in my tracks: Leonard had already transformed into a different version of her character (for those unfamiliar with the play, it jumps in time quite frequently), making her way slowly, in the only way her character’s sickened body could, down the stairs. I relaxed into the transition, thrilled by this intimate moment of proximity and trust between the two of us. Our collective journey down the stairs became a scene in and of itself.
In artfully embracing the cottage’s physically compact nature, the production demonstrated and utilized the unique function of the audience in immersive theatre. Sometimes, it was impossible to see both actors at once – either because the room was narrow or because they’d been directed to occupy adjacent rooms. Rather than being distracted by my limited sightlines, however, I was freed to observe one actor at a time. Unlike conventionally staged theatre, this production offered me the rare opportunity to relish in the reactions of the actors – while they listened to their scene partner speaking, the kitchen sink draining, or the front door opening.
At no point did the actors stop acting or reacting – an astounding feat of acting prowess and a delight to the fully immersed audience. Adelaide Leonard’s Marianne was at once ephemeral and grounded. For a role that could have easily elicited an emotionally overwrought performance, Leonard effortlessly breathed life into both the text and space while never upstaging her scene partner or the story. Daniel Wallentine’s delicate touch to the text and his surroundings gave his portrayal of Rowland a charming, innocent warmth. His Rowland was quiet and observant, blossoming carefully over the course of his relationship with Marianne, making his reactions to the news of her diagnosis all the more devastating. Together with the cottage’s air of domestic tranquility, the actors expertly crafted a story that was easeful yet energetic and that allowed the nuances of a technically challenging text to bubble clearly and pleasurably to the surface.
Perhaps the only area worth exploring in further iterations of this production is that of the use of space between actors, specifically in the moments of explicit intimacy. It’s not often that one gets to share a bedroom with a couple – an intensely unique experience that I could have enjoyed absorbing in static peace for a bit longer. While the moments of explicit intimacy between the actors were far from grotesque, these were ironically the most exclusive moments in the production and could have benefited from clearer storytelling for the sake of the audience. Additionally, given the physically compact nature of the space itself, it could have been fruitful to experiment with the distance between actors’ bodies in these more intimate moments.
One thing is for sure: Constellations at Clarendon Cottage redefines what immersive theatre could be.
Upon my arrival at the garden outside the cottage that evening, I was greeted by the lively chatter of our fourteen-person audience. Complimentary drinks in hand, mingling warmly under fairy lights and a cool night sky, we greeted each other as strangers, collectively wondering when the play would “begin.” Only, it already had. I’d been playing an important role as an audience member from the very moment I arrived. And while it didn’t feel forced or uncomfortable – in all the ways I usually dread immersive theatre – it did leave me hoping that I would get to return to Clarendon Cottage one day and play that role again.