Find Your Heart’s Desire Over the Phone at ‘The Midnight Market’ (Review)

“Fairy markets” — or, as they are sometimes called, “goblin markets” — have long been one of my favorite tropes in folk tales and fantasy novels. They happen at night and disappear by sunrise, leaving no evidence behind. They’re strange, otherworldly bazaars with a variety of things on offer, ranging from small, enchanted trinkets to the ultimate purchase — your Heart’s Desire. And forget money; the fae have no use for cash. Instead, customers pay with more intangible currency: the color of one’s hair; or a favorite personal characteristic; or a cherished memory.

But there are rules one must follow. Be polite. Take no gifts. Prices are never discussed up front. And, whatever you do, never eat the fairy food. Fairy markets are often held in liminal spaces, open only to mortals in places where the veil between worlds is thin. In Neil Gaiman’s Stardust, visitors to the market must pass through a hole in an ancient stone wall. And poet Christina Rosseti’s market takes place every evening in the dark goblin glen.

So if finding a portal and going through it sounds too arduous or risky, Mirror World Creation’s The Midnight Market offers curious customers a chance to explore a fae market from the comfort of their own home. Their fair folk have adopted mortal technology and created a way for prospective shoppers to find their Heart’s Desire, QVC-style.

(Minor spoilers follow.)

Like all other fairy markets, Mirror World’s comes at night. My call with the Midnight Market’s phone representative (as voiced by Tristin Rutherford) came at 10pm, the late hour lending a sense of intimacy to the call. The nameless fairy (also played by Rutherford) on the other end of the call explained the basic rules of the market before turning the conversation on me and asking what I was looking for. She tried to tempt me with decorative baubles, small gadgets to make my life easier — even a rented Brownie to do household chores for me. I rejected them all, holding out for something special. The fairy probed, asking me questions about my life, my interests, what mattered to me.

In the end, she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: a one-of-a-kind tour of a magical river guided by a specially trained Kelpie (to avoid unfortunate murder situations), single-use spell for underwater breathing also included. I paid for it with my beloved childhood blanket — not just the blanket itself, but my memory of its existence. When the terms were settled, the fairy explained how I would redeem my purchase by setting out a saucer of milk on the next full moon. In a dream, the Kelpie would come to me. I was to feed him apples to keep him friendly.

When I asked the fairy if I could tell my friends about it afterward, she laughed derisively. “Of course. But no one will ever believe you.” Such is the nature of traveling through portals, I suppose.

After our first deal was struck, the fairy — sensing a willing buyer — made me an even more tempting offer. My Heart’s Desire. In half an hour, she had sussed out what I wanted more than anything (It has to do with a magical portal to a treehouse in the midst of a jungle, a Jane Goodall-esque life waiting for me in an alternate timeline. When I asked the faerie representative which timeline, exactly, my treehouse existed in, her response was delightfully charming: “One that is seven degrees skyward.”) and she knew I was willing to pay dearly for it. With glee, she extracted a portion of my life’s history. Despite the immense cost, I was willing to trade for my Heart’s Desire. The deal done, she rushed through how I could access it (more milk, of course), and hung up the phone.

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Though Mirror World’s The Midnight Market is obviously not real, Rutherford’s performance is so skillful that it left me wandering through the boring real world in an absent dream, wishing I could go back to peruse the market. Rutherford’s representative is charming and empathetic yet conniving; the character turns that empathy around on you, and uses it to make you give parts of yourself away. The Midnight Market hinges entirely on Rutherford’s masterful performance over the phone. There is no set, no costumes, no puzzles to distract you. Rutherford must conjure an entire world for the participant and get to know callers well enough in the 40-minute runtime of The Midnight Market that she is able to tempt them sufficiently. Throughout the call, she maintains a convincing character, connects with each caller, and demonstrates an encyclopedic knowledge of myth and folklore.

However, the weakness of The Midnight Market is that Rutherford’s performance alone is not enough to carry a show. Of all the LARP-inspired immersive experiences I’ve done, The Midnight Market required the most roleplaying from its participants. It is not a show for a LARP wallflower. If I would have been unwilling to talk, or share things about myself with the fairy representative on the phone, I don’t know what would have happened. In moments where I was quiet or slightly reticent, Rutherford waited patiently, and offered slight nudges. There didn’t seem to be a backup plan for a player who clams up. For me, this wasn’t an issue, but I could see participants who are shy finding the experience to be stressful. Rutherford is a skillful actor, but she can only work with what she’s given, and LARP-reluctant players might find the resulting experience unfulfilling. The website uses varying language when describing The Midnight Market: a phone larp, a phone adventure, and an immersive experience. To be sure, it is all of those things, but not all who would sign up for a phone-based immersive experience would be comfortable with the level of LARP expected by The Midnight Market.

In contrast, the design of Yannick Trapman-O’Brien’s delightful experience The Telelibrary provides built-in ways for players who enjoy a more passive role to spend their time by listening to other people’s contributions, hearing Trapman-O’Brien read selected passages in a variety of accents, and more. But players who prefer a more active approach to phone theatre can interact with the experience as much or as little as they like. I loved The Midnight Market, but I think it could benefit from offering a range of ways to interact for a variety of participant styles.

But players who are willing to let go, who enjoy the idea of having a strange, intimate phone call with a stranger in the middle of the night, and who like fairy tales and the prospect of magical adventures — the The Midnight Market awaits you. Your Heart’s Desire might only be a phone call away… if you’re willing to pay the price.

The Midnight Market is an ongoing experience; tickets are $40.

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