We were big fans of Toronto-based dance company Transcen/Dance Project’s last production, the Dracula-themed Eve of St. George.
Operating on a smaller-scale – the Great Hall’s handful of rooms, corridors, and gathering spaces – than the Punchdrunks of the world, Transcen/Dance successfully evoked the sensation of being thrust back in time and across worlds; in that case, to a creaky Gothic castle haunted by vampires, ghosts, and other eerie figures.
Navigating that world (and resisting the urge to peer beyond the curtains out onto busy Queen West below), we enjoyed our ninety minutes (about half as long as Sleep No More) at the Eve of St. George, which took us from the heights of an ornate master bedroom down to the depths of a haunted crypt hidden in the Great Hall basement.
A year later, Transcen/Dance is back with a suitably mythological follow-up, this time inspired by the Medusa story. Stepping back from the nightmarish themes of St. George, this new production, Ophis, is billed as “an emotional journey through love, vulnerability, and self-discovery.”
Bloodletting is out; ambrosia is in.
Fittingly for their commitment to stretching the boundaries of Canadian dance, Ophis is an immersive theatrical experience that promises to “reimagine the myth” of Medusa, portraying her as a symbol of empowerment and resilience.
What that means in practice remains to be seen, though judging by our St. George experience audiences can expect epic choreographed dance numbers in the main hall, combined with the freedom to wander floor by floor, room by room, witnessing the worlds and interactions of a cast of characters drawn from familiar mythology. Going by the promise of a reimagination, one assumes the lead figure will not be losing her head at the climax of the piece.
Judging by past experience, it will also be something of a provocative affair. Expect sensual choreography, a gloriously diverse mix of sex- and gender-configurations, and plenty of risqué diaries and notebooks for the voyeuristic audience to poke around in.
Thanks to our experiences at St. George, we can offer some handy tips for those interested in attending:
First – though dealing with mature themes, these shows are not exactly frightening. Eerie, perhaps, but not really meant to scare you. It’s rated 14+ “due to the dark nature” of the show, but honestly, it’s not going to be a scare-fest.
Along those lines: the freedom of movement in immersive theatre means that you, as an audience member, never need to be anywhere you don’t want to. If you’re unnerved (or bored) by the scene playing out in front of you, you’re free, even encouraged, to wander off and see what is happening elsewhere.
Incidentally, the performers aren’t everything! This advice is tempting to ignore, but we strongly recommend spending time exploring the environments, in the absence of characters or any notable action. Last time, exploring a doctor’s quarters, we stumbled upon an old-timey dictaphone (in fact an iPod subtly tucked into the guts of an antique machine) with an old-timey audio receiver, playing back medical logs of the famous Prof. Van Helsing. (If you’ve seen the recent Nosferatu, the Willem Dafoe character.)
We also, just by wandering aimlessly, scored a handful of one-on-one interactions, where performers pulled us aside to whisper secrets or thrust arcane objects into our hands for safekeeping. Good stuff.
Much like Sleep No More, you should also be prepared to wear an uncomfortable plastic mask. It’s a wise touch – it helps to immediately differentiate the audience from the performers, while also adding to the sensation you’re at some kind of demonic masked ball – but if you have contact lenses, they’re a better choice than glasses.
Most importantly, though, is to enter the world of Ophis with an open mind.
Novices to the immersive theatre world might be wary of what this all entails. And sure, part of the appeal of Ophis is that tingle on the back of your neck when entering into a new, totally unpredictable space – so if you don’t find that appealing, Ophis might not be right for you.
But if that sounds intriguing, or if you like the idea of a Medusa story that toys with Ovid’s metamorphosed version of it (Ovid having introduced some noteworthy elements not present in the original mythology), Ophis is going to be one to check out.
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Ophis runs at the Great Hall on April 4-6 and 10-13, 2025. Tickets available here.
