Sleep No More is a tough thing to describe.
It enshrines voyeurism in a 1920's speakeasy Macbeth that is and is not the perennial favorite of high school English classes. I read it my sophomore year, I'm sure you too were assigned it at some point. It magically fits a town, a hotel, a banquet hall, a military man's private quarters, a hospital out of your favorite horror movie, a forrest, and a grave yard into the McKittrick Hotel which may or may not be a hotel. It is silent and anonymous. The audience is robbed of their voices and their faces by skeletal, Venetian carnival masks and a mandate not to speak once they have left the bar. Absinthe flows.
It's a choose your own adventure.
I followed Macbeth himself for a while at the beginning of the evening. Before the banquet, he whispered 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 in a grove in the banquet hall. I was whisked up four floors by a blood covered Lady Macbeth where I found the hospital. Crosses and little chapels are hidden everywhere. I followed background characters through a tailor's and a taxidermist's. At the end of the night I was brought back to the banquet hall where I saw Hecate dance and Macbeth's demise. The latter I can only describe in terms of what song it inspired to haunt me for the rest of the week: "The Mercy Seat". It stays with you.
I went with one of my English classes (Theater on Both Sides. It's about theater.), which allowed me to compare notes with friends over pizza. It's sort of the only thing you can do at thirty minutes into a new day after having your world rocked by experimental, environmental theater.
It was glorious.
It enshrines voyeurism in a 1920's speakeasy Macbeth that is and is not the perennial favorite of high school English classes. I read it my sophomore year, I'm sure you too were assigned it at some point. It magically fits a town, a hotel, a banquet hall, a military man's private quarters, a hospital out of your favorite horror movie, a forrest, and a grave yard into the McKittrick Hotel which may or may not be a hotel. It is silent and anonymous. The audience is robbed of their voices and their faces by skeletal, Venetian carnival masks and a mandate not to speak once they have left the bar. Absinthe flows.
It's a choose your own adventure.
I followed Macbeth himself for a while at the beginning of the evening. Before the banquet, he whispered 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 in a grove in the banquet hall. I was whisked up four floors by a blood covered Lady Macbeth where I found the hospital. Crosses and little chapels are hidden everywhere. I followed background characters through a tailor's and a taxidermist's. At the end of the night I was brought back to the banquet hall where I saw Hecate dance and Macbeth's demise. The latter I can only describe in terms of what song it inspired to haunt me for the rest of the week: "The Mercy Seat". It stays with you.
I went with one of my English classes (Theater on Both Sides. It's about theater.), which allowed me to compare notes with friends over pizza. It's sort of the only thing you can do at thirty minutes into a new day after having your world rocked by experimental, environmental theater.
It was glorious.
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