Head Down to DTLA to Go Elsewhen and ‘Elsewhere at the Madcap Motel’ (Review)
The Arts District gets a new attraction
Thirteen months ago Elsewhere at the Madcap Motel was set to open in the Arts District in Downtown Los Angeles.
The space, created by Paige Solomon and an intrepid crew of artists and performers, was envisioned as a step forward from the kinds of Instagram Palaces that dot the landscape with their endless lines of selfie snappers, albeit on a slightly different path than the gargantuan Meow Wolf installations that are taking up residence in Las Vegas and Denver.
Then the pandemic came, and everything went into stasis.
At some points during the hellscape of 2020 it looked as if the Motel was going to be a “we almost had a…” story. Yet somehow, through luck and pluck and an unwillingness to give up, the Madcap Motel is here with us. Opening up just as California is shaking of the cobwebs.
Madcap Motel asks the question: what if we put a bit more story and some characters into the freeform adult playground that is the pop-up? Instead of the culminating sprinkle pool/marshmellow tub/ball pit of the InstaFactories there are actors and scenes that bookend entry and exit from the alternate reality of Elsewhere.
But that’s getting ahead of ourselves.
The Motel is situated on a prime piece of real estate in the Arts District at 4th & S Hewitt, just a block away from Urth Caffé, and a few blocks away from the cluster of shops and restaurants on Traction that include Salt & Straw and Wurstküche. In the geography of the Arts District there are few better places to be, with a stream of street traffic to drive curiosity and a supply of office workers, loft dwellers, and students to appeal to.
Theme-ing starts from the outside, with the Motel sign and colors evoking a mid-century modern aesthetic that carries into the lobby. Just where and when you are is there from the jump. Unlike a selfie palace, or even Meow Wolf’s original House of Eternal Return attraction, the theming stays front and center in the “check-in” experience. In the waiting room I’m told that the couch was originally owned by Neil Armstrong, and then am quickly told not to Google that. There’s more than a few things one probably shouldn’t Google during one’s trip through Elsewhere, as suspension of disbelief is a currency of the realm.
What happens next reminds me, of all things, of the late, great Twilight Zone Tower of Terror at Disneyland (the first person who mentions it still being at Walt Disney World gets strapped to a Saturn V). Escorted into motel room, a very immersive theatre scene happens. It’s here that we get to start loading up on the lore of the Motel. I’ll spare the details because much of the joy comes from not knowing what to expect next. Suffice it to say: timing is key and for my run that timing was on point.
A second scene follows, before the path leads into the central atrium of the Motel, which lives under a perpetual Summer’s night. Here actors and attendees can be found lounging in the space between rooms, with the actors playing befuddled permanent residents of the Motel. They’re a bit blissed out on strangeness of it all, soaking in the cosmic oddities and ready to give somewhat reliable directions.
In theme park terms the cast members in the atrium and the room beyond are there to provide “streetmosphere.” Less conveyors of plot than instruments of theme. Yet the cast that has been assembled has its fair share of performers from LA’s immersive theatre scene and they’re ready to play with the curious who linger long enough between rooms.
It’s the rooms, however, that are the main attraction. This is where the Motel’s root in the Instagram pop-up genre can be most clearly seen. Each room has a concept (some higher than others) and all are laid out with ample space for folks to get their photo on. Each of the rooms you can enter has two doors, and while at first you might dismiss the “exit route” sign as just a safety feature, but there’s actually a back hallway of the Motel. Approaching the installations from this angle, mixing and matching entrances and exits, can lead to a nice bit of discombobulation that adds to the vibe.
Touring solo, as I did, it feels like any given installation has more space than is needed and is a far cry from the millimeter maximalism of the Santa Fe Meow Wolf location. Yet what would be a “bug” in a pre-COVID world art showcase is definitely a “feature” in a post-COVID indoor playground. Drop a full flight of ten guests into a room and the space is likely going to feel just right.
There are other things about the Motel that walk that line.
For instance, a good portion of the installations have no ceilings, but are open to the space as a whole. Before the last year, this would have felt like the build wasn’t finished. Now it reads like a good compromise to keep air circulating, with the rooms that do have ceilings making sense because the effects in them require it. There are touch points galore, but hand sanitizer is also ubiquitous even if it’s out of place temporally. Honestly, at this point I notice hand sanitizer as much as I notice glowing EXIT signs. They’re the bezel on the TV screen of reality. (Translation: not much, if ever.)
Whether or not you’ll feel comfortable inside the Motel for a stretch of time really comes down to where you are emotionally in terms of the pandemic. If you’re still wiping down purchases, this isn’t for you. If you’re vaxxed up and no longer get tense while in a big box store on a weekday (like me), then you’re going to be fine. The plan even before Covid was to keep the capacity of the Motel to about a quarter of what the building is actually rated for, in order to keep the guest experience a good one. All of the staff is masked, properly, some doubly so. This is our world now, and perhaps the strangest part of the whole thing is how un-strange it feels. The only real downside to the masks and the distancing is sometimes having to ask a performer to repeat themselves.
In the timeline where COVID never happened, I could see myself lingering in the atrium, or in the space with the grassy knoll where projections line the wall, for inordinate amounts of time. Especially with friends. There’s some cozyness to the vibe at the Madcap Motel that invites a linger. As I went through as a solo act, I was less inclined to dawdle. What with no one to take my picture for me. That’s always been the lie about selfie palaces. They’re not optimized for selfies, they’re optimized for taking pictures of each other. A low stakes place to connect.
What sets Madcap apart are the little interactive parts: with a game here and a button-operated feature there. In time I could see the presence of these features multiplying, as the Motel is a solid platform for iteration and will certainly evolve as the team gets a sense of what works and what doesn’t. Already Solomon is looking ahead to the Fall, when she’s thinking about what can be done at Halloween.
Before you head back out into the sunbleached streets of the Arts District there is one final room. Room 7. It’s the only way out of Elsewhere, and a loop back into the lore of the place — which mostly falls to the wayside once you’re in the warren of installations. What plays out is another delightful scene, perhaps enough to make one wish there were just one more to be found in the heart of the Motel. What can I say?
Give me something good and I’m going to want more of it.
Elsewhere at the Madcap Motel opens today at 4th & S Hewitt in Downtown Los Angeles. Tickets are $40 for adults and $30 for children. Madcap Motel is wheelchair accessible and ADA compliant.
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