It’s that time of the year again — the time when the chilly air cannot adequately hold its moisture, and a misty fog descends upon the city. It’s the time when pumpkins are carved, fireworks are lit and mischief twinkles in the eyes of children. It’s also the time, most importantly, for haunted houses.
Inspired by the film The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, The Oubliettes of Dreams is a guided tour through the tormented mind of a man named David. Like a circus-inspired Dante’s Inferno, its visitors travel into different layers of consciousness, finally reaching the fiery depths of David’s subconscious mind. Interweaving circus, magic and theatre, The Oubliettes of Dreams aims to produce more than a haunted house: it attempts to create a living nightmare.
Set in a warehouse near south east Marine Drive, guests wait outside until a man emerges, armed with cue cards and pens. We are told to write a confession — something that we have never told anyone. With slightly pained expressions, everyone scrawls a secret. “Students of psychology,” he addresses us, signalling our interactive role, “you are about to enter the consciousness integration portal . . . into the mind of David.” Nervous laughter emanates from the crowd, and our tour guide leads us into the first layer of David’s mind.
In an idyllic scene, glittery fairies swing, giggle and dance. To calm David’s turbulent mind, we are told to meow and then sing “Moon River.” Apparently David is fond of cats and Andy Williams.
Next up is The Diviner. This performer, a whimsical magician, performs coin tricks while explaining the subconscious mind, dreams, and illusions. Using his supposed powers of divination, he begins to rub his temples, eliciting our confessions. Perhaps it is simply part of the interactive performance, but The Diviner guesses quite a few of them, the most notable being: “I hate the smell of Downey fabric softener.”
“Students of psychology,” he addresses us, signalling our interactive role, “you are about to enter the consciousness integration portal . . . into the mind of David.”
Suddenly, the lights go out. In complete darkness, we grope our way through a mess of fabric and nets. It is here that we experience the most unsettling part of a haunted house — suffocating darkness and disembodied hands reaching out, grasping our limbs. Random hands are unsettling for another reason, too: sometimes they land in inappropriate places, such as my sister’s breast and butt. The lights flood back on, and performers hang from the ceiling. We have fallen into the The Oubliettes of Dreams.
A new character, Dr. Joseph Woodland, enters the scene. Dr. Woodland, David’s former physician, has transformed into the circus ringleader of David’s mind. Using circus performances as visual metaphors for the inner workings of David’s deranged subconscious, two contortionists, an aerial rope performer, an aerial hoop performer, an acro-dance duo, and a team of fire weavers perform fascinating feats to the applause of “psychology students.”
Captivating to watch, the contortionists writhed, slinked and bent into the strongest performance of the evening. There is always an element of exhilaration when watching circus acts because of the dangers involved. At any given moment, a performer could fall. And one did. Luckily, she didn’t seem too badly hurt, but it was a painful reminder of the precarious nature of circus performances.
While each routine expressed the expertise of the individual performer, the overall production lacked the cohesive elements needed to make it a seamless creation. The production seemed piecemeal, more like a slideshow of performances. The overarching theme, David’s tormented mind, would have benefited from stronger dramatic performances of the tour guide and Dr. Woodland. Since these characters are the ones directing the crowd, they needed to be more convincing.
In all, the production was unique, but remains more dreamlike than nightmarish. However, The Oubliette of Dreams is an admirable undertaking, and it will be interesting to see what this crew comes up with next.
