We're standing on a darkened staircase while in front of us a masked woman—clad only in red panties and high heels—slowly turns on a revolving platform. There's some nervous chatter and giggling from the dozen or so attendees who were let in first, all of us unsure of where to look or what to do. Without warning, doors at the foot of the stairs swish open and a flood of provocatively-dressed cast members glide into the space. They peer at everyone intensely, stopping every so often to gaze deeply into someone's eyes; they're searching for something. A handsome man with eyes rimmed in black grasps my hand, tracing the lines of my palm. "I think you're the one," he whispers, before leading me from the safety of the stairs into the pulsating unknown of the room beyond. Queen of the Night has begun.
Attendees to the wildly successful immersive theater experience Sleep No More understand the sense of disorientation common to Randy Weiner's productions. You're not so much watching a performance as you are part of it, perhaps more so than ever in this new boundary-pushing bit of dinner theater. The piece takes over the legendary Diamond Horseshoe ballroom below the Paramount Hotel on West 46th Street. Opened in 1938, the venue has sat derelict since 1951; thanks to a $20 million dollar facelift, the 6,000 square foot beauty once against hosts the sounds and sights of the theater.
As Sleep No More took its essence from Macbeth, Queen of the Night borrows touches from Mozart's opera The Magic Flute; we're essentially attending the coming out party for the young Pamina, thrown by her mother, the intimidatingly beautiful The Marchesa. Also in attendance, dozens of dancers, acrobats, aerialists and circus folk, who use the banners, railings and horizontal surfaces of the venue to catapult themselves through the air, landing with aplomb onto the floor or into each other's arms.
These nimble performers aren't just graceful eye candy—though they play that part very well. They're also tasked with shepherding audience members, serving and clearing away the massive feast and generally keeping the evening flowing and sensual. It's enough just to marvel at how seamlessly the evening unfolds; the rehearsal process must have been staggering.
No glittering ball would be complete without a decadent feast and there's no disappointment here. The dancers—now outfitted in dark aprons—hoist up huge birdcages overflowing with lobster; Flinstone-sized hunks of beef; and roasted suckling pigs on spits, juices dripping lasciviously onto loaves of bread below. Utensils are provided, but befitting its bacchanalian nature, you'd be forgiven for going to town with your hands. Bartering (and stealing) are openly encouraged; not every table gets each dish, so be prepared to leave shyness behind to get your hands on that lobster claw. Surprising given the volume, the food actually tastes great, like the best version of wedding food you've ever had; trust me, that's a compliment.
There's an ending to the on-stage story and a truly mesmerizing dance performance by The Marchesa—exquisitely portrayed by Martha Graham dancer Katherine Crockett at my performance—to conclude the evening. There's also confetti and stranger slow dancing and even someone to hand feed you cake, which doesn't feel so odd after you've lived through the event. Running around three-hours, the show has too many strange and delightful moments to sum up adequately; in fact, the less you know about the show, the better.
Does that halter top-clad young lady want to escort you into a darkened room? Let her. A man in fraying tails wants to tell you a secret? Go ahead and listen. This isn't the experience a touch-averse person will relish. The cast eagerly explores the audience's personal space, whether they're caressing your neck as they walk by or making intense eye contact as a precursor to whispering bits of whimsey into your ear. But in a city where we avoid contact of any kind with strangers, it's both off-putting and exhilarating to be so openly touched. And when they look as good as this cast, you're eager to let them.
Queen of the Night officially opened Sunday evening, with an unlimited run. Tickets are available here.
