Review Rundown: The One With Mushrooms and Love Spells

While only clocking in at four reviews it’s still a pretty big week for the Rundown, with the return of Baltimore’s Submersive Productions and a new experience from The Hotel Who in LA which, if you’re like me, you’ve seen countless Instagram ads for.

Both of those pieces are getting full-lengths, but you’ll find the jist of it here. Why? Because we love you and want you to be happy. Plus there’s two more reviews: one from LA and one in London.

Looking for more? Last week’s Rundown, with reviews from LA, SF, and NYC entitled “The One That Goes Vroooom” is just a click away.

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The Hotel Who: A Love Story — The Hotel Who
$50-$350; Los Angeles; Through July 15th

Sometimes too much is too much and sometimes it’s not enough. Somehow, in the case of The Hotel Who: A Love Story, both happen at once.

On the plus side: the high concept and the central narrative concept is a solid one. It’s a 1950’s musical riff on Romeo & Juliet with some romcom magic thrown in for good measure. The cast is very, very talented — there are a couple of hold overs from The Hotel Who’s 2022 murder mystery version — and can handle both one-to-one encounters and the well choreographed dance theatre numbers.

The problem is everything else. What could be a tight two hours and change of singing, dancing, and character interaction is — for those who pick up the $150 mid-level ticket that has Acts 1, 2, and 3 — a FIVE HOUR affair that tries to tick every box on the immersive checklist and instead had people leaving early. The “Who” in the title could easily be “Who is this for?” and its not clear that the creators have an answer.

The Hotel Who: A Love Story could be a lot more if they were trying a lot less. A tighter focus on the dance numbers and what the flow of guests through the scenes should be would go a long way.

As it is, if you want to get a sense of The Hotel Who’s strengths and get the whole “see and be seen” 50’s costume party thing in, an Act 3 ticket, just $50, will take care of all that. The more involved first two acts need an overhaul, and the mystery part comes off as too much of an afterthought. Somewhere under the kitchen sink is a good show. It could be a real blast if they find it.

— Noah Nelson, Founder and Publisher. Adapted from his Full Length review.

Katalepsis — Submersive Productions
$18–$56; Baltimore; through May 7th

I have good news for immersive theatre fans in the Mid-Atlantic: Baltimore’s Submersive Productions has brought classic immersive theatre back to the area. Katalepsis is a capably produced return to the comforting recipe from the before-times while not shying away from making art about our pandemic lives.

Fans of Submersive will feel at home before the show’s even begun. For Katalepsis, the company has returned to the Peale Center, where they previously produced the unforgettable H.T. Darling’s Incredible Museum Presents: The Treasures of New Galapagos, Astonishing Acquisitions from the Perisphere in 2017. (I enjoyed that show so much, I don’t even mind typing out the full title.) This time, they have been given the building’s basement to play in. What that loses them in space and grandeur, Submersive makes up for with phenomenal set design and dressing. Floor-to-ceiling, the space is transformed.

Katalepsis supposes a grungy far future, after Humanity is devastated by combination virus/computer virus. There are very few survivors. At least, survivors who stayed fully human. Many instead choose to undergo a sci-fi medical procedure to partially digitize them, emerging centuries later as something part human, part machine, and part mushroom. That’s you. The medical procedure and its preceding informational video presentation serve as the audience’s on-boarding for both the setting and rules for how to behave during the show.

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Katalepsis is an exemplar of the gift immersive theatre can give us. It succeeds in walking a thin line: Both an engrossing escape from the everyday and art that shines a light on these recent years we’d like to forget. The strong on-boarding and remarkably thorough set transports the audience to a world just different enough that we let the cast give us a good look at our world outside. If you’ve been missing immersive theatre, mask up and head for this future now.

— Marshall Bradshaw, Mid-Atlantic Correspondent. Adapted from an upcoming Full Review.

Mike Nelson: Extinction Beckons — Hayward Gallery
£15–16; London UK; through 7 May 2023

Upon entering the transformed exhibition spaces of the Hayward Gallery I am immediately struck with an impression which is often missing in a major city center: emptiness. In the lucky absence of any other visitors for a moment, the weighty red-hued presence of a gallery full of forgotten wooden doors and carpentry equipment sucks the static from my weary mind and I am quieted.

Extinction Beckons is a series of gathered works wherein visitors may engage with several decades’ worth of Nelson’s experiential art, including some at the largest scale possible: the size of hallways, the size of buildings buried under sand dunes. Having collected castoffs and well-worn materials over the course of a lifetime, Nelson has built shrines to humanity’s leavings: what a place looks like when we leave it, what it smells like, what it feels like. The dry and dusty rasp of old wood, dried motor oil, and sand hangs in the air throughout.

Passing through one piece and lost in a rabbit warren of doors, haunted by the sounds of fellow visitors also trying to negotiate their own paths through a series of long-since-abandoned rooms, I am utterly charmed. Each portal leads to a distinct and lonesome space, and the careful crowd control by the gallery attendants ensures that while I may overtake or glimpse a fellow guest, perhaps across a bare bar-top or a defunct travel agent’s desk, there are never any bottlenecks or crowds to push through. Later pieces demand the guest to linger — peering closer at the scattered details of a photo darkroom or a forest of stone faces hung in a field of metal girders — feeling the same l’appel du vide that the “original occupants” must have felt to down tools and disappear.

What is the opposite of a liminal space? A trap? A cluttered hole both sucking you in and jettisoning you out with its oppressive anti-magnetism? Mike Nelson’s creations are environmental and expansive, placing us as viewers inside the context of the work and compelling us to engage with it in order to move forward. A fractal of found spaces, compressed into the halls of one gallery.

Extinction Beckons is accessible and inviting to the immersive art newcomer: ideal for the post-work crowd, the tourist with an hour or two to fill, or the Punchdrunk fan looking for a fast hit of that sweet signature aesthetic.

— Shelley Snyder, London Curator

Up Here, Down There — Immersive Arts Center
$65; Los Angeles, CA; run completed

As a self-proclaimed Alice in Wonderland expert, I’m always intrigued by events that mention Wonderland inspiration. So when Immersive Arts Center announced an immersive show based on the sisters who lived at the bottom of the well, I knew I had to check it out.

The show begins the moment you walk through the curtain and into the parlor. A well-to-do socialite in a red gown greets you and welcomes you into her home. She is quick to introduce you to her daughters, Hannah and Alice. Alice is quiet and dark with kind, desperate eyes, while Hannah is concerned with concerns. Is everyone having a good time? Does everyone have a drink? Is Alice OK? Is mother OK? The last character we meet is the psychologist. We would come to learn he holds the key to unlocking what’s eating at Alice, but we’d all have to follow him down the rabbit hole to find out. The first half of the show is spent engaging with these characters, sipping beverages, and exploring the space. Personally, I was enthralled by the whimsy and decor in this humble space.

Your host eventually invites you to the table to dine and the show takes a dark turn. From there themes of anxiety, depression, feelings of inadequacy, fear of disapproval and confusion are introduced. Prior to this, they were hinted at, but now the are on full display, embracing you and ushering in an atmosphere of controlled chaos.

My favorite part of this experience was the reimagining and reference to well-know Alice in Wonderland tropes. Yes, the Mad Hatter is obsessed with hats, but is there more to it? Is a teacup an invitation to socialize or an obligation to perform? If we fall down the well, who do we take with us?

I would recommend this show to fans of Alice in Wonderland and whimsy. With its approachable and relatable subject matter this is a great introduction to immersive theater. The show offers cocktails and mocktails and tea-party snacks (scones, finger sandwiches, berries, etc). The show is tame, and at no point are you alone with any characters or touched in a threatening way.

— Briana Roecks, Los Angeles & Travel Correspondent

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