Houston’s ‘The Man From Beyond’ is Otherworldly Fun (Review)
The immersive theatre-escape room hybrid by Strange Bird makes magic feel real
Every Monday night, there is an open séance in the Church of St. Paul and St. Andrew on the Upper West Side, held by the Spiritualist Church of New York City. For the Spiritualists, it is their main form of worship. For everyone else, it feels, perhaps cynically, like something interesting to do on an otherwise boring weekday evening. Participants sit in a circle while several mediums pace around, waiting to receive messages from beyond. They call out descriptions of the spirits they’ve connected to — such as “a woman with a sharp tongue and a penchant for white suits” or “an elderly gentleman who smells of licorice” — and wait for someone to claim that spirit as their loved one. The mediums then give vague, Magic 8 Ball-esque advice or warnings that either resonate with the recipient or, more often, do not. I went one night last autumn, and received word from an unidentifiable (and improbable) male ancestor that my family saw me as their “Rock of Gibraltar.” I wasn’t made a believer that night but I did have a good time.
That said, I love séances. They’re spooky and macabre, of course, but they also have a certain hopefulness to them. I think even the biggest skeptics, myself included, go because there’s a tiny hope that this time the magic will be real. The same logic applies to tarot cards and palm readings — at worst, it’s fun, and at best, you actually experience something magical and otherworldly. Even in the context of immersive theatre, when the participant knows it’s all part of the act, things like ghosts and magic and fortune-telling can, when done right, still feel magical. Strange Bird Immersive’s The Man From Beyond is a perfect example of what it looks like when done well.
Attendees play the role of guests invited to a mysterious séance by a spiritual medium, the alluring but unnerving Madame Daphne (Haley Cooper). When we arrive at the time and place given in our invitation, we find ourselves in a strange, monochromatic lobby. It contains everything a normal office lobby would have — bulletin boards, corporate art, an office directory — but everything seems somehow… off. We wander around until we find a partially open door, warm light and old-fashioned music spilling through the crack. The room we enter is richly appointed with celestial-themed wallpaper, velvet-upholstered furniture, and candles. At a small table, Madame Daphne sits, dressed in an ornate robe and jazz-age headband, with a worn deck of tarot cards. We are each given a book with our names on it, containing a glass vial filled with a specialty cocktail. Drinking it, I can’t help but feel like Alice, preparing for my trip into Wonderland.
When Madame Daphne reads my tarot cards, she does so with stunning accuracy and a mischievous, knowing smile. Perhaps it is the influence of the cocktail, but the line between fantasy and reality begins to blur; I am ready for the séance. She stands up suddenly, clutching a candelabra and muttering something about an invisible parrot who has escaped his gilded bird cage, and then beckons us to go through a door in the corner of the room. We follow her into a dark hallway where, her face lit only by flickering candles, she tells us the story of Harry Houdini’s life and mysterious death. After we have sworn ourselves to secrecy, she leads us through the hallway and into the private chamber where the séance will take place. In the center of the room is a giant, mahogany table where we are told to sit and join hands, forming a circle. Madame Daphne points out items around the room that once belonged to Houdini and his wife — a straight jacket, a wedding ring, photographs, various props and furniture — which will help us in calling his spirit forth. We call out to Houdini, inviting him to join us, and the lights begin to flicker as eerie music plays louder and louder. When a creepy message is found on a chalkboard, it is clear we’ve made contact with the ghost of Houdini — and then things begin to go horribly wrong.
To avoid spoilers, all I will say is that we soon find ourselves locked in the séance room alone. This is where The Man From Beyond transitions from immersive theatre into a more traditional escape room. We must unravel a mystery by engaging with the room and the Houdini artifacts within it, solving puzzles along the way. The puzzles were the best puzzles I’ve ever seen in an escape room. They were challenging and well-designed, fit perfectly into the narrative, and were well-kept, to avoid the sort of meta-gaming that comes with observable wear-and-tear on most escape room props. The hint system was both helpful and true to the story; when we were stuck, an old school film reel would play silent, black and white movies with titles containing helpful suggestions. The sound and lighting design were also flawless as well as interactive and responsive to our actions. When we did something wrong cartoon-y circus music would play, the sad “whomp whomp” of trombones alerting us that we needed to try again. The lights dimmed and flickered in response to developments in the story. Perhaps most impressive feat was the set design, which allowed the gamemasters to move and exchange props without us noticing, making it look like the magic of Houdini’s ghost was real.
After we finally solved all the puzzles, The Man From Beyond transforms yet again, from escape room back to an immersive theatre production. An extended hand from a performer takes one player away from the group, in a Sleep No More-inspired one-on-one experience, while the other guests are cast in new roles for the finale. And what a finale it is: tender, hopeful, and cathartic.
Aside from its technical excellence, the immersion of The Man From Beyond makes it the most unique, engaging escape room I’ve ever played. And best of all, it gives you something that the average escape room doesn’t: a cohesive and meaningful story which we, as participants, have an ability to impact.
At the end of the experience. Madame Daphne leads us back to her tarot parlor and hands us our coats, bidding us goodbye. We exit through the bizarre black and white lobby in a daze. Though the magic of The Man from Beyond may have been made up of clever set design and skillful acting, after we got in our cars and drove away, real or not, the magic still lingers.
The Man From Beyond continues in Houston, Texas. Tickets are $42.
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