I recently explored Footscray, located just outside central Melbourne, and last week, I perceived it in an entirely new way. As a surreal, nightmarish realm, it’s unlike any ordinary reality. The idea of rejuvenating areas through art isn’t new, yet it’s captured in the profound dimensions of the door in question, characterized by intense, sometimes precariously unstable augmented reality, and productions that merge XR, immersive theatre, escape rooms, virtual reality, and mixed reality.
Creator and director Troy Rainbow labeled the door an “immersive journey into mental illness,” drawing from both his own experiences and those of his mother, who dealt with schizophrenia.
At 37, Rainbow utilized a letter he had penned to his mother, reflecting “her style of thought and the mindset I found myself in,” which shaped the central challenge of “adapting a paranoid belief system into the narrative.” The storyline features four delusional characters, each convinced that a man named Anton met his demise in a unique manner.
The term “immersive” has been thrown around frequently, yet this doorway truly embodies it, crafting an all-encompassing experience that captivates every sense—sight, touch, and even smell.
The journey kicks off in a small room at the Metro West Shopping Centre, which Rainbow describes as filled with “lost dreams.” After a short guided meditation, I donned a VR headset, stepping out of that room to virtually navigate through the transformed center, discovering unique objects that hadn’t existed before. Some will later revisit these in physical form, blurring the lines between reality and illusion, triggering an uncanny sense of déjà vu.
Exchanging my headset for headphones, I ventured outside where a mysterious woman narrated stories related to the various locations around me.
Participants traverse a series of surreal outdoor rooms filled with dilapidated and decaying elements. One area resembles a lab, featuring dental chairs, while another is a security room where one can converse with an AI that mimics their voice. An unkempt kitchen is scattered with broken and oddly arranged objects, and a disquieting children’s room is filled with beautiful snakes and makeshift board games strewn across the bed.
The experience unfolds with voices emerging from unexpected corners, some activated by directional speakers. “It genuinely sounds like the thoughts in my head,” remarks Rainbow. These voices deliver peculiar and at times frenzied rants—one man discusses our souls transitioning into data, while a child marvels at God’s miracles. As you navigate these settings, you encounter unusual photographs and written materials, including religious texts, handwritten notes on the walls, and documents tucked into folders. It feels reminiscent of stepping into horror films or video games.
The door in question (which debuted in 2021 and has undergone several iterations since) resonates powerfully due to its intimate format. Throughout the experience, participants find themselves alone—with the exception of actors offering guidance—and left with their inner thoughts (and all the wild ideas bouncing off the walls). This intimacy, coupled with the participant’s role as co-author, renders the experience profoundly personal.
This approach to storytelling diverges significantly from traditional media, such as films and live theatre, with their fixed representational frameworks. Beyond the stark differences in dialogue, this form of storytelling uses space to unveil information and facilitate interactions between narratives and locations.
Tech plays a crucial role in this endeavor, with Rainbow asserting, “I see technology as more than just a tool; it’s a co-creator.”
Selecting the appropriate real-world setting is equally vital, as utilizing abandoned, deteriorating spaces allows Rainbow to explore the question, “What does this inform the experience?” He adds, “Imagine how thrilling it would be if a more artistic endeavor was embedded within dormant spaces.”
Source: www.theguardian.com
