Translating Interactive Narratives to Digital Stages
Not everything I watched this month was interactive, but a lot of it had been once upon a time.
While capturing traditional 4th wall-style theatre in a digital format largely makes sense – there’s no direct interaction between the audience and the performers, regardless of what you think of the ‘energy exchange’ – getting an interactive or immersive theatre experience online is tougher. It’s possible to film numerous angles and edit them together to get a sense of wandering and seeing as much as possible; it is possible something like the Young Vic’s ‘Best Seat in Your House’, where you can choose your own perspective in the theatre throughout the show, could improve the immersion; it is possible to add some level of interaction in the chat section. Since the pandemic, more theatre makers have experimented with the potential of interactive and immersive online productions to bring a sense of togetherness, community, aliveness to works that might otherwise seem static or solitary experiences; in the return to in-person productions, direct audience interaction is back but more artists are attempting to capture the experience of these works in different ways.
This month, I watched four different approaches to audience interaction, by happy accident. The variety offers a glimpse into how theatre makers and live performers think about their work dramaturgically, and how they want to translate it to more audiences.
The Light at the End of the World (2021); Know Theatre, Cincinnati OH
One of the most appreciated uses for digital production of theatrical works is the archival nature of the final product – in many cases, even if a play is livestreamed, there are few companies (especially now that Zoom is a less popular platform) who lean into the ephemerality of live works, leaving no record of the show. That said, a recording of a live performance is not the same, and Know Theatre considered this when they put The Light at the End of the World together in 2021. At the peak of the pandemic, this innovative company aimed to create engaging shows for both their loyal audience and potential new audiences. To ride the line between onstage and online performance, The Light at the End of the World originally had a livestreamed introduction from Producing Artistic Director Andrew Hungerford, then a series of pre-recorded short performances inspired by lighthouses and the ocean or the seaside set up on a choose-your-own-adventure style path (made playable through Hapyak). Per the website, depending on how many videos you choose, your individual single experience can last 50 to 60 minutes (mine was about 50 minutes).
The show is still available at Know’s website for replaying, which means the bulk of the alive, but not live, experience can be tried; and, at the end, you as the player-audient can watch through all the videos to see what you missed. It’s a lot of content! (I didn’t watch it all, but I watched a few more). In the original semi-live run, there would also be a Zoom hangout with live, distanced fellow audience members; from the future moment of 2023, I was left in my kitchen with my thoughts, marinating in the cabaret-like variety of the several short works I had indulged in.
My First Bike (Filmed Aug 23, 2023); La Mama Theatre, Melbourne VIC
La Mama frequently films shows in their venue, which range from traditional theatre to standup comedy to interactive performances and avant-garde shocking shows. Whenever possible, the videos of these shows are placed online to stream, once the in-person version of the show has finished its run. Since these are filmed with a few cameras placed around the stage, they become traditional digital films or performance recordings for the online platform; however, not every show starts life this way.
To ensure the at-home streaming audience understands when a performance is not structured like a linear narrative, La Mama puts up a note regarding the show’s format, limitations/expansions, engagements, etc. In the case of My First Bike, La Mama noted that the order of short scenes was a different running order every night, based on audience choice. Unlike Lighthouse on the Hapyak platform, I as the streaming video audience could not to anything to effect the order the show was filmed in, but the note did change my watching experience; I watched each piece of the show not as a whole narrative, but as a mobile component that could be shifted as needed. It was not a multi-course meal where each course is determined and served in a specific order for an overall experience, but a series of snack platters and charcuterie boards that could be assembled into a wonderful meal, but everyone got to have a different experience of what they ate and when. My imagination considered what it might be like to have the ukulele songs back to back, or to start with seriousness and weeping and immediately transition into a very funny conversation with the audience. Knowing the modularity of the show made it more interactive for me, regardless of the video format.
Alien Rescue (2021 to present); Metamovie, Twitch
I’m a little behind the online times in that I don’t have a VR headset yet, and I’ve discovered over the last three years that my Surfacebook doesn’t run VR experiences very well (sadly). So, when I learned about Metamovie’s ongoing live performance game called Alien Rescue, I got on their mailing list but did not attempt to join the player-audience, knowing it wouldn’t run very well on my end. Fortunately for me, Metamovie filmed one of their recent Alien Rescue games and streamed the recording later on Twitch, allowing me to both keep a dramaturgical ‘critical distance’ while also enjoying the show. So, much like My First Bike, I knew the show was interactive but I didn’t have any influence on the game’s outcome.
Metamovie as a company makes cinematic, gamified performances; I’d lean their work closer to videogames, which feature live performers and an interactive audience in virtual reality, but the narrative and design are both clearly inspired by films as well as games. Alien Rescue is set up like a simple videogame rescue mission, with lots of character backstory added – the players chose their character backstories and which three performer-characters they aligned with. There were some interactive viewers who were small floating bots who could suggest (by blinking their lights either green or red) how they wanted choices to be made, but they were not responsible for engaging with characters otherwise. There was also a chat on Twitch that was fairly free-flowing throughout. After a brief introduction from the AI character, the players and their floating bots went off, followed by the streaming camera. Occasionally, there was difficulty loading the scene into Twitch – I could hear the performers and players in the background, talking and making decisions, but I couldn’t see anything. Once the players met up with the three lead performers, each got into discussion and the Twitch stream flicked back and forth between all the conversations – it was quite loud, and I think if I had been an in-game player it might have been easier to hear the one-on-one conversation I would have.
I was reminded again of the idea that errors onstage, small differences, prove the liveness of an in-person performance; and yes, this is certainly one form of proof, but my three years of watching digital performance, both live(streamed) and recorded (video), demonstrates that the newness of the digital medium makes it much more prone to errors than traditional in-person theatre. I suppose the nature of the in-person stage is better understood, in many respects, as it has been around for a few thousand years (different cultures had wildly different ideas of what should constitute theatre, but on the whole the stage is older than the internet-screen).
Bird by Kylie Vincent (Filmed April 2023), The Cultch Re/Play, Vancouver BC
The Cultch’s digital streaming platform released Bird by NYC-based comic and performer, Kylie Vincent, this month, so I grabbed a free ticket and settled in. I assumed it would be a somewhat traditional linear narrative performance, but the filming of the show – which was part of The Cultch’s Femme Festival earlier this year – included bouncing between a show with an audience and a performance in black and white, Kylie alone in the theatre space. The audience laughed at jokes and Vincent generally seemed happier as a performer; the black and white transitions, with no audience, typically involved much more serious subject matter about Vincent’s life, parts that maybe were structured in a humorous way, but which were not in fact funny. Of course, this makes dramaturgical design sense, but it was also fascinating to watch the audience have a direct impact on the performer’s mood and speaking style, compared to her acting.