Last Saturday, I took J to an immersive theatrical experience called Alice’s Adventures Underground. J had persuaded me to book the adult version, not the kid’s version which he said sounded rubbish. I had been dreading it for weeks and then…
‘Mum, the day has finally come. I can’t believe it has finally come!’ It was a late birthday present for J and I had been (mostly) successful in covering up my apprehension but now the day had come I was getting more and more nervous.
I love the idea of immersive theatre but in reality I am far too anxious and suggestible to cope with being plunged into someone else’s bad dream. Even before I had HD I found them overwhelming and HD has added disorientation. I keep getting lost in familiar places and unfamiliar ones … even with family members are terrifying.
At festivals, I cling like a limpet to my husband and make sure he is always in view. I still get lost though so we always arrange a place to meet away from the crowds. When I’m waiting for him minutes feel like hours.
In immersive experiences, I always look for the way out. There is usually an emergency exit for people with a nervous disposition. A few years ago, I went all the way to Manchester with my husband to experience Adam Curtis’s ‘It Felt Like A Kiss’ which successfully conveyed the nightmare of the American dream. Chased by a man with a chainsaw, I escaped through a door that led onto an alleyway and tried to gather myself. I knew my husband wouldn’t wuss out half way through the experience so I waited for him at the end with my heart pounding.
They didn’t have a way out in ‘Adventures in Moominland’ at the Southbank but J held my hand throughout. An actor guided us through Moominland, but Tove Jansson’s imagination is dark edged. The large and lovable Moomin evolved from a Snork… a thin and ugly creature with a long nose and tail like a devil. Cast adrift in Moomin valley, I feel menaced by fascist Snorks and impervious to enchantment.
I made sure we arrived at Alice early so I could scope out Wonderland and ask the people on the door whether it was possible to get completely lost there. J was the youngest in the queue and I hoped they would think he was the one who needed reassuring.
I fell down the rabbit hole with Alice
45 minutes later, we reemerged from the rabbit hole feeling quite pleased with ourselves. We drank tea with The Mad Hatter, stole the Red Queen’s tarts and joined an insurrectionary movement.
After a lot of twists and turns, non-sense had prevailed. The narrative had carried us along and I had successfully feigned enjoyment, or so I thought.
‘Maybe you’d enjoy the kids one better mum?’ John said.
Forgetting myself 