{"id":5211,"date":"2017-08-04T12:00:04","date_gmt":"2017-08-04T19:00:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/Becomeimmersed.com\/?p=5211"},"modified":"2019-12-12T13:34:00","modified_gmt":"2019-12-12T21:34:00","slug":"alone-photocopy-memory-review","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/becomeimmersed.com\/alone-photocopy-memory-review\/","title":{"rendered":"Alone – A Photocopy Of A Photocopy Of A Memory – Midsummer Scream"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cAll we have is this exact present,” a\u00a0soothing voice intones from a speaker behind me. \u201cEverything else is memory.\u201d Underneath these words lies a rhythmic bed made from chopped up male vocals. They drone on ad infinitum: \u201cof a photocopy, of a photocopy, of a photocopy, of a photocopy\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Alone<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I have never experienced the work of Alone<\/em> before. I have a passing familiarity with their overall model, but as far as actually experiencing<\/em> an event, their work remains one of my largest, and perhaps most regrettable, immersive theater blind spots in Los Angeles. So when I caught word that Alone <\/em>would be staging an immersive event at 2017\u2019s Midsummer Scream convention, I practically leapt at the opportunity to subject myself to their existential evocation.<\/p>\n

As per usual with their convention-based shows, Alone\u2019<\/em>s latest immersion (seemingly titled Pre-Emptied Reconstruction Index: Section C) <\/em>was something available only to those who actively sought it. Even as an outsider to the company like myself, it is not hard to discern that an overall sense of general bewilderment, obfuscation, and wonder is not only a likely side effect of seeing an Alone <\/em>show, <\/em>but also perhaps paramount to its very ethos. Their two previous convention experiences required participants to track down and scan hidden QR codes throughout the convention center or find a woman dressed in all white handing out innocuous concert flyers that revealed a hidden clue. Their current website<\/a> is nothing but an MS-DOS program that spits out vague phrases. To an outsider, it may appear that they have no interest in clarity or ease.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Alone<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

For this year\u2019s event, the process was surprisingly more straightforward than it has been in the past, shifting focus from scavenger hunts to bureaucracy. I found myself tracing and retracing steps, tracking down \u201croaming counselors\u201d, and filling out paperwork (located at the mysterious Alone <\/em>booth somewhere on the show floor). Before access to the experience was granted, participants were asked to fill out a 20-question survey about memory, broken into 6 categories: Global memory, Retention, Recall, Remote Memory for Personal Events, and Metamemory. After the form was completed, participants were asked to speak into a tape recorder, vividly describing the earliest memory they can recall in life.<\/p>\n

What this preamble ultimately led to was a stunningly moving and evocative immersive experience\u2014an experience rendered even more impressive when one considers its relatively short run time (roughly 15 minutes from start to finish, not including paperwork).<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Alone<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The actual events of the \u201cexistential evocation\u201d are deceptively simple on paper. It eschewed everything one thinks of when they think of immersive theater, or theater in general. No visible actors were used, no stage tricks or set\/lighting design was employed, and nothing resembling a narrative ever took shape. After recording a recollection of my earliest memory into my counselor\u2019s tape recorder, I was led to an area of the show floor that had been partitioned off with black curtain. After waiting a few seconds in anticipation, a pair of hands gently reached out from the other side of the curtain and guided me through to the other side. What immediately met me upon crossing the threshold was a large, heavy piece of paper, wrapping itself around my head and taped into place\u2014an unconventional blindfold. The hands guided me to a chair in front of a booming loud speaker, playing a subtly menacing audio track made up of voices meditating on the nature of memory. The musings are scattered and repeat themselves often, offering little in terms of continuity between phrases. \u201cIn effect, there is no \u2018now\u2019,\u201d the voice offers at one point. \u201cBecause you are always forming memories upon memories. The surface, the skin, the body: an extension of memory.\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not left with much time to parse all of this out before I am guided into the physically-driven portion of the show, which for me is easily the most remarkable, while again being perhaps the most simple-sounding upon description. After I am led into a dark room, I am laid down on my back on the floor by an unseen figure, have a brilliant white light assault my retinas, and have (what I later discovered to be) photocopies taped all over my body. While the average full contact immersive experience stimulates your senses in a way that is designed to evoke emotions that are familiar (fear, lust, etc.), Alone <\/em>accomplished the seemingly impossible task of making my body (and by extension my mind) feel a way it never had before. The experience was squirmy, transcendent, relaxing, and anxious all at the same time. How many hands were on me, I have no idea. Sensations were strange and almost recognizable in how illogical they were: fingers digging under my ribcage, a hand cupping me knee, my pant legs being rolled into my socks.<\/p>\n