How an Ark Revealed AR’s True Artistic Potential

The innovative theatrical production An Ark demonstrates the profound emotional power of augmented reality, moving beyond technological spectacle to forge a deeply personal connection between audience and performer. Staged at The Shed in New York, this mixed reality play uses AR glasses to place viewers in an intimate circle with four ethereal actors, crafting an experience that feels both hauntingly personal and universally resonant.

Recently, I found myself locked in a gaze with Sir Ian McKellen as he narrated the story of my own life. While some details were slightly off, others were so unnervingly accurate it felt as if he possessed private knowledge I had never shared. His instruction not to panic was difficult to follow, given the piercing intensity of the moment. Looking away offered no respite, only to meet the equally intent stare of Golda Rosheuvel, who continued the same captivating narrative with a different emotional texture. Later, performances by Arinzé Kene and Rosie Sheehy guided the story into darker, more painful territory, yet maintaining direct eye contact made it clear they were conveying essential truths about the human experience.

This was all part of An Ark, a new work from writer Simon Stephens and director Sarah Frankcom, produced by Todd Eckert’s Tin Drum Theatre Company. The production builds on the company’s prior experiments with mixed reality but deploys the technology in a novel way that transforms the audience from passive observers into active participants within the narrative circle.

Before the show, attendees gathered in a dim, crimson room lit by a single massive orb. After donning wired mixed reality glasses with assistance from attendants, the space plunged into near-total darkness, focusing our collective attention forward. One by one, the spectral forms of the cast members materialized before us. McKellen, Rosheuvel, Kene, and Sheehy portray four beings existing in a liminal space between life and whatever follows. The audience member completes their circle as a newcomer, there to learn that one’s personal life story is, in fact, a collection of experiences not entirely unique.

Despite the actors not being physically present, the combination of minimalist lighting and the MR technology creates a powerful illusion of proximity. Director Sarah Frankcom, who admits to no particular fascination with tech, approached An Ark as a traditional character-driven play. By capturing the performances with a 52-camera volumetric video system, she presents the actors in a way that feels both immediate and strangely ghostly. The MR glasses render the performers with startling clarity, making them seem close enough to touch. Occasionally, subtle visual warping introduces an uncanny, spectral quality that perfectly complements the production’s themes of mortality and memory.

The true accomplishment of An Ark is emotional, crystallizing in the final moments of its 47-minute runtime. After listening to the characters recount their life arcs, I was left reflecting on the pieces of myself I saw in them, and how the moments that didn’t resonate for me likely spoke profoundly to others in the room. Exiting the space to retrieve our shoes, I overheard conversations about feeling connected to something larger, not in a religious sense, but through the shared intimacy of an experience that highlighted our fundamental similarities. It’s rare for new technology to evoke such a reaction on first encounter, but An Ark convincingly reveals how augmented reality can authentically deepen and enhance artistic expression, serving the story rather than overshadowing it.

(Source: The Verge)