The Tape Escape: the case of the video store immersion

14 Jul 2019

Photos by Nick Silcox

Entering The Tape Escape lobby, situated in the space where Queen Video rose and fell, is a blast of instant nostalgia. VHS tapes are crammed in every available shelf, piled on flat surfaces and arranged on some improvised storage/display solutions. There are old favourites, beloved classics, commercial hits and duds, and a bonanza of b-movies. Many titles jump out, but I take special note of 1989's Lobster Man from Mars starring Tony Curtis which I, shockingly, had never heard of but now have to experience. I make a mental note to search it out on Netflix. Or YouTube. Or Amazon Prime. On the web, because that's where I find obscure and fascinating movies now.

And there is a jolt of sadness that rips through my body. If I want to find any film now, I will type into search engines and scroll through websites while alone at a keyboard. Staring at a screen in order to stare at a screen. I still haunt bookstores, new and used, in search of undiscovered treasures, but I had almost forgotten the joy of going to the local video store, finding just the perfect video for my mood. Or the video that I didn't know I needed to see. Or the video that I didn't know existed.

Visiting the video store was a ritual. The anticipation of getting my hands on a copy of a new release or an unsung masterpiece. The search, the discovery and then the triumph of carrying it to the counter. And it was a social expedition: there were fellow questers who were glad to offer their opinion, and the ever helpful and highly critical clerks, who would gladly steer you in the right direction of your request, while making sure you knew that your choice was aesthetically beneath them. This is the experience, or the essence of that experience, that The Tape Escape recreates: the quest.

The Tape Escape bills itself as "an immersive escape room experience that invites you to put your life on pause." It also bills itself as a theatre piece. And an art installation. It is a unique hybrid. One picks from three "New Releases" which start on the hour every hour. There is a short intro/extro (depending on whether you are arriving for or finishing an experience) that, the night I attended, included a musical number of repressed lesbian lust unleashed through lyrics that were movie titles, a stand-up routine from Nicholas Porteous (Heart of Steel, The Baby, Goodnight Desdemona (Good Morning Juliet)), and a very apt musical performance by Francis Melling (Hand to God). From there one is guided in solving a series of clues that are to be completed in an hour at which point the new release must be returned.

There are storylines, but they are more overlaying concepts that carry the emotional heft of a crossword or sudoku. The catharsis comes not from observing dramatic action but rather from living the drama of trying to find the solution to a clue. Despite being someone who usually loathes audience participation and improvisation, I quickly became swept up in the struggle to figure it out. There are clues that are wordplay, mathematical, spatial, aural, hands-on and, frequently, requiring knowledge of film, particularly films of the '80s and '90s. We are all amateur sleuths, Jessica Fletchers, observing and deducing solutions that seem obvious in retrospect, but which are baffling during the experience.

The attention to detail is extraordinary, not just the clues - their construction and execution - but also the environment. I was constantly distracted by the arrangement of the tapes (the categorization is hilarious), by the tapes themselves, and the creation of a work world of the video store clerks. The clerks (the cast) stay in character throughout, insisting that it is Aug 31, 1999, the eve of the millennium when the world may well end. The teams I ended up on were guided by Porteous, and Raylene Turner and Kavone Manning (the double entendre movie title songbirds). They were all disdainfully delightful, only hampered by having to spoonfeed us solutions without making it obvious that we were clueless.

The other clerks, Melling, Rais Clarke-Mendes and Danté Prince, and the 'managers' Tony Cushman and Zoe Danahy, were always nearby for assistance or bits of comic relief. Or being busy guiding another experience. Three experiences happen simultaneously so the video store floor (and the basement where a staff room, a love nest and something that daren't be described) are a hive of activity, and the experiences can't help but intersect and trip over each other. I experienced "Yesterday's Heroes" which is a mythical quest to prevent a disaster of Y2K proportions (confession: we failed and everyone died horribly), and "Love Without Late Fees" which is based on a rom-com/angsty relationship drama structure.

The former was great fun (and included a moment that approached real horror film intensity), but that may have been partially because I solved a serious amount of clues. The latter was marred by technical difficulties (all of which I'm sure will be sorted out by the time all the kinks are worked out, and with so many intricate working parts, it's amazing that it the precision so rarely was less than clockwork) but redeemed by video appearances by the hilarious shill duo Ray and Sheila, and Sebastien Heins (Bang Bang, Mr Burns, Brotherhood: The Hip Hopera). And some very funny action movie references. Heins has a history with presenting theatre company Outside the March, and the Willis/Schwarzenegger/Hanks trio point out the fine line that The Tape Escape has to walk. The clues have to be complicated enough to provide satisfaction when solved, but not be so obtuse as to be insolvable (I will go on record as saying the popcorn clue requires a Sherlock not a movie buff). And the movie references have to be cool and culty, while also being mainstream enough to be recognized by most participants.

I found Lobster Man from Mars on YouTube but the dedicated effort didn't compare to the thrill I had when I picked up the worn cardboard case with the VHS inside. Nostalgia? The thrill of the hunt? The Tape Escape may not become a blockbuster but it taps into the Blockbuster ethos with meticulous glee. The list of creators is huge and they all deserve kudos, The Tape Escape is a massive undertaking. But most importantly it is an entertaining and, that word, 'immersive' experience harkening back to a more interactively social time. Just the act of inserting a video cassette provides a gratification that clicking an icon will never match. So The Tape Escape does put one's life on pause. At least for the hour that it takes to figure out (or not) the clues.