Stunningly ambitious set pieces lead to a dystopian anticlimax in this promenade thriller
Presented in a Deptford hangar, Storehouse by newcomers Sage and Jester has lofty ambitions about the exploration of digital information, truth and power. Perhaps rather ironically, this piece of immersive theatre is financially backed by the daughter of a billionaire media mogul. Its slogan reads “truth lies here” and “The truth will set us free”- phrases that feature heavily but mean little.
The plot explains that in 1983 when the internet was created, four founders started the Arkive, a meticulous physical library of everything ever put on the internet. In January 2025 a seismic event – the Great Aggregation- was supposed to happen and we the audience members are brought in as Trustees to oversee what might be the problem. Parallel promenade performances split the audiences as they go on the same journey with different actors before merging at the finale.
What starts out bold and interesting soon unravels into a confusing mess of a script. With eight (!) co-writers including a dramaturg, it clearly suffers from too many cooks. The subject of misinformation and truth in content creation is perfectly topical, but the writers simply don’t do anything with it. We are led through various exquisitely detailed spaces with lots of expository monologuing from the performers, sometimes referencing the sacredness of ink or the importance of binary code. However we are not really given any time to invest in anything before being shunted to the next room. Eventually we are funneled into a large inkwell room for a clichéd damp squib of a revelation before entering the cavernous main space finale whilst some omniscient voice tells us to touch grass.
Essentially the problem it is trying to solve is one we are already aware of: overuse of technology is bad. The Arkive struggling under the weight of constant content being made is not new information. However it is little surprise that a system made in the 80s is not fit for purpose in 2025. This promenade piece is so linear that it feels passive rather than immersive. The heavy marketing of names including Meera Syal and Toby Jones ultimately feels like a gimmick- they barely feature other than a portrait and occasional voiceover. The performers for my group were a highlight though, including Chris Agha as a bookbinder and Harriett O’ Grady as a stacker. Trussed up in their fun 80s outfits, they activate like a sleeper cell whenever Karma Chameleon plays, though it is never explained why.
Alice Helps’ set pieces are the real winner here, and the sense of space and scale is astonishing. Both intimate and monumental at different turns, I truly enjoyed the use of texture, organic matter, smells, touch and sound design. The rooms, tunnels and pods never felt overwhelming , despite being full of sensory elements. I wish we could have proper time to simply explore- the 90 minutes run time is clearly a constraint.
Further frustrations lie in wasteful elements that prove to be superfluous to the paper-thin plot: we are given a fortune cookie, wrapped in Storehouse branded plastic packaging, and individually made drinks while we wait in our assigned reception room. We are given a Storehouse branded lanyard to keep, with a printed ID sticker showing our name and face. We are given a glossy storehouse manual full of explanations and a terminology. I asked a staff member at the lockers if I should keep the manual with me for the show- she confirmed it’s not needed. Oh.
Ultimately, a show cannot succeed on aesthetic alone, and whilst the sensational visuals demonstrate promise to the premise, more attention is needed on the actual story. It is a bold if flawed debut.