Theater: An Ark
At the Shed
If you have ever gone up the Vessel (when it was allowed), Hudson Yards, New Jersey in the distance and most of the West Side of Manhattan will look both familiar and yet totally surreal from the top vantage point. The same can be said for An Ark, the new (and supposedly first) mixed-reality play presented next door at The Shed. There are two experiences to be had at The Level 2 Gallery. One is everything you need to do to prepare for the play and second is the play itself. The filmed play is written by Simon Stephens, directed by Sarah Frankcom and boasts Arinzé Kene, Ian McKellen, Golda Rosheuvel and Rosie Sheehy in the cast. The whole concept of the evening is credited to Todd Eckert.
An Ark (c) Marc J. Franklin
AN ARK (THE HAPPENING): Let’s start with the journey to your seat. First, you are required to check bags and coats (the night I went was chilly and snowy). The reason it seems is that there really is no space beneath your chair for storage as the headset you wear (more about that later) requires a lot of wires and doodads, mostly under the chair. Once you take the escalator (or elevator) one flight up, the first thing you’ll notice as you walk through the theater’s first atrium, on an elegant red carpet, are signs of things to come. Literal signs on the wall, not metaphorical. (As the play and the program reassures you: “Don’t panic.”)
If you wear glasses, you are detoured to the science table where two nice “lensers” (my own term) take your glasses (please clean them first to prove you do not live in a dusty cave; I didn’t) and put them through a contraption that determines the lens you will need for your headset. After I was told that my eyesight was so bad that they didn’t have a corrective lens high enough, they gave me the highest one they had and said it should be fine. Spoiler alert: It was. You get a sticker with your lens type and you’re on your way.
Then, the next set of helpers are focused on your footwear. You are given a card with a letter on it and you go to a lettered cabinet and put your shoes away. So, wear nice socks or bring extra ones just in case your Air Jordans spring a leak after trekking through the snow.
An Ark (c) Marc J. Franklin
Once the theater opens, you will see a sort of seating configuration you would see in a cult (again, “Don’t panic”) with the chairs in an oval circle around a bright lamp in the center of the room. (If you saw Oratorio for Living Things, it’s similar to that.) Even though seating for An Ark is general admission, the first set of theatergoers will be encouraged to sit in the middle section right below the holy light.
(c) The Interested Bystander
On your seat will be a program and (finally, drumroll) a headset. I am not a VR guy so I cannot compare what happens here to the ones in the gaming sector. The headset has an adjustable halo that fits around your head, and with the help of my very attentive technician, recalibrated as my baseline visual cue was a bit off. She took my sticker, and I was then given the extra lens to add to my viewer to match my eyesight.
An Ark (c) Marc J. Franklin
The best part of the evening so far happens next with the primarily adult crowd. Per the production’s website: “An Ark is recommended for ages 14+. The production includes serious themes and strong language.” (I do think young, sticky fingers and restlessness are not a good mix with expensive technology.) The audience around me seemed, like me, to have never put such a contraption on their head and the awe of wonder when they finally saw the image in their line of vision was infectious. (If you haven’t guessed, my review should be sponsored by AARP, although most people seem to be in their 30s). During the presentation, I did have to adjust the headset a couple of times while my companion decided at certain points to take the headset off altogether because of an existing medical issue. (The technician did come over the first time to make sure it wasn’t a problem with the headset.) As far as I could tell, no one else (at least not in front of me) had any issues with their equipment.
Before I get to the actual show, I will close the experience loop to say the wonderful staff at The Shed was able to shepherd the crowd out of the theater efficiently and effectively, with our corresponding shoes, bags and coats intact.
An Ark (c) Rachel Louise Brown
AN ARK (THE PLAY): When you put on the headset, you see four chairs in a semi-circle, and once the lights are dimmed (but not totally dark), four actors enter our view—Arinzé Kene, Ian McKellen, Golda Rosheuvel and Rosie Sheehy—and with a reassuring tone, they lock eyes on you, and with a gentle tone, start to go through milestones of our lives. Well, somebody’s life because even though playwright Simon Stephens tries to refer to these life events in generalities, it feels like a male-centric life to me, no matter how many times the Welsh Sheedy also speaks up for the women in the audience. The four beings (are they guides from the afterlife like in the film Eternity? Unclear.) try to reassure and explain things but they do occasionally contradict each other as to the proper etiquette on how to speak to us. McKellen, always compelling, even in hologram form, is the elder statesman and tries to proceed despite challenges by the younger beings (Kene exits the proceedings in a huff for a large section in the middle) while Rosheuvel exudes reassuring warmth and maternal energy. What does seem to be a waste of the technology is that there isn’t more action in the 47-minute play as the cast is mostly seated throughout, which makes An Ark an elevated radio play (the dialogue is heard through speakers throughout the room and not from the headset). Still, this is all good fun, and I can think of worse ways to spend an hour, but I am sure history will view this production as a quaint, low-fi beginning for this type of mixed media presentations. And while the title would evoke the story of Noah, I believe the shared experience of a hundred or so people every two hours in The Shed is the ark (replacing the ferry) transporting us through the River Styx to our final destination. Or are we part of a cult? The possibilities are endless, which is both the strength and failing of Stephens’ play.
Try/Step/Trip (c) The Living Word Project
Theater: Try/Step/Trip
Under the Radar at A.R.T. New York Theatres
The title of writer and performer Dahlak Brathwaite’s newest work, Try/Step/Trip, is wonderful in its dual definition of each word as it applies to the autobiographical work that chronicles a young black man’s journey from victim of racial profiling to a rehab to finding his voice in music. Try is the younger Brathwaite, who is cheekily known as Anonymous and played with wide-eyed enthusiasm by Tyrese Shawn Avery, trying to live a life without falling into the police and legal system, which he predictably fails. Step is both the step line he learns when he goes tries to join a black fraternity and the twelve “steps” of a rehab program. Trip not only refers to the drug high but also our hero’s trajectory, tripping many times before getting back on path. This may all seem really heady and academic, but the play is actually very active and kinetic, always moving. Incorporating the mechanics of stepping (via Toran X. Moore’s extraordinary choreography) as well as the music of DJ Culture, rap and dance, usually provided by Brathwaite himself as the Conductor, behind a sound machine and keyboard.
Try/Step/Trip (c) The Living Word Project
The story, as the play keeps reminding us, is not unique: a young black man, just trying to live his life, recounts many minor aggressions from white people or the police (usually both) before being arrested for possession of mushrooms and is suddenly facing additional charges of “intent to sell.” We have seen these injustices and “wrong place at the wrong time” stories before, most recently in the film version Nickel Boys. And like that film’s unique POV cinematography, clever presentation here, skillfully realized by veteran director Roberta Uno, is this show’s biggest asset. The hardworking and tireless cast is up to the challenge, but it’s telling that its most involving scene is stripped of all the flash and is just a tensely written exchange between members of Anonymous’ addiction group at a crucial crossroads of their rehabilitation. The show ends with an impressive, exuberant cry of joy, frustration and optimism. Try/Step/Trip is part of the Under the Radar festival, which recently got some love from newly elected mayor Zohran Mamdani as an example of his vow to make arts for all. This play, produced by The Living Word Project, has been extended and is an exciting example of why Under the Radar is so essential to up-and-coming artists like Dahlak Brathwaite.
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