Long Live the ‘Red Palace’ (The NoPro Review)

Launcelot Street behind Waterloo Station is deserted. There’s a rusted sign against a metal fence that indicates that this is indeed the back entrance to the Vaults, but there’s no one around nor any indication that this is the place to enter the Red Palace, the newest production offered by Shotgun Carousel, apart from the small crowd that continues to grow. I haven’t personally been on this street since Alice’s Adventures Underground, the sprawling Lewis Carroll-themed installation in residence back in 2017. Hazy memories of the sweeping size of the place give me anticipatory shivers and I catch myself hoping that the scale matches my mounting expectations.

The invitations we received stressed the need for masks (with extras available for purchase at the door) and our finest ballroom attire. The weather is clear and perfect for costumes and while I’ve outfitted myself with a semi-formal dress and a lace mask I notice that many of my fellow early-entry guests haven’t bothered and are dressed in business casual or street clothing. I’m disappointed in my fellow theatre-goers; evidently in the glut of London theatrical offerings the invitation to treat this performance (especially an immersive one) like a special occasion goes unnoticed.

Eventually the gate swings open and we’re ushered down a back alleyway past construction materials and empty kegs, and through a doorway over which a painted mask hangs. Once we’re inside we’re obliged to don our masks and we’re guided into a large ballroom. The walls are painted with representations of curtains, the throne reflects the glint of several chandeliers which drape from the ceiling. The room is large but lord, do I pray this is not all of it. The potential is too much to be let down; I couldn’t bear to just be shuffled from spot to spot in this single room like so many “immersive” productions that just push the audience around a single room while actors shove through the crowd.

Oh, how we are fulfilled.

The early arrivers have been invited to partake of the feast prepared for us by Masterchef semi-finalist Annie McKenzie and served on the balcony overlooking the ballroom. This optional dinner package is part of Shotgun Carousel’s usual bag of tricks which most recently made the papers in their production of Divine Proportions, serving a five-course gourmet meal amidst the Greek gods. The meal this evening is certainly fit for at least minor deities: three courses of communally-dished delicacies with standouts such as honey Irish soda bread, cumin and coriander spiced breast of lamb, and a visually charming salted caramel toffee apple to finish.

As we dine we are gradually introduced to some of the residents of the palace who (with the exception of the Prince who reigns over them) don’t appear to be entirely at ease with their residence. A woman cursed to always be dancing and a cat who knows too much for her own good move amongst the diners and tell us a bit about the evening’s planned celebration for the Prince’s 1000th day of rule, and about a prophecy that bodes ill for their sovereign. By the time our meal is finished and we move back down to the main ballroom we are surrounded by many more guests, some of whom did take up the invitation to dress for the occasion and I admire a few ballgowns and showy sartorial choices. The Prince bids us welcome and then turns us loose into the palace.

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Here is where Punchdrunk enthusiasts (myself included) and others hardwired to take advantage of entrepreneurial and opportunistic theatre go bananas: a couple of us immediately take off into the furthest bowels of the compound and I pass through several absolutely opulent rooms. A nightclub and a fortune teller’s den whizz by before I settle on a damp and echoing chamber with a bathtub occupied by a dazzling mermaid who is talking and singing to herself.

The lighting effect and reverberation in the room is haunting enough to bring tears — the kind of site-responsive design that can’t be achieved anywhere other than in found-space venues. I’m in love.

After about ten minutes of visiting with her the scene comes to a close and visitors are ushered back into the hall, and as we run into literally every other guest in the main hallway at the same time I realize my initial mistake of taking off like a shot and skipping through rooms without lingering. The performance is actually a series of mini-scenes, all strung together by a single storyline but meant to be enjoyed in set segments rather than as exploratory theatre. Two and a half hours float by in a delightful haze as I proceed to get lost in the woods, sit through a seance, and take in a double-barrelled burlesque act at the nightclub before finally returning to the ballroom for the eventual climax and denouement.

The Red Palace is an absolute feast for the senses, a chocolate box with hidden drawers full of kinaesthetic treats. Months of production planning are evident; while the set isn’t ideally soundproofed in places and there’s some sound bleed between simultaneous scenes there isn’t nearly enough to cut through the charm of the space and the decadent decor. Dinner is a treat worthy of the price and a lovely warm up for the evening but not necessary to enjoy the meaty part of the performance.

While I did manage to snag a couple secret scenes I know for a fact that I didn’t see everything, so there’s plenty of room for repeat visits. Advice for attending would be not to ruin your own experience by being too greedy: don’t go digging too far, the palace is elaborate but not infinite. Once you get the rotation down, it works. Fans of Punchdrunk production scale and voyeurism tactics should beat a path to the door.

Red Palace continues through January 2020. Tickets are £18.

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