Sleep No More closing: How Punchdrunk’s show changed theater in New York, for better and for worse.

I was 22 the first time I went to the McKittrick Hotel. Every line of Macbeth, Punchdrunk’s leadership was fond of saying, could be found somewhere in the McKittrick: translated into a flock of dead birds in the Macduffs’ apartments, a hidden letter in an antique drawer, a secret room in the asylum where Lady Macbeth performs, wordlessly, a version of “Out, damned spot!” That meant that every moment of our show experience meant something; within the McKittrick’s walls, we could live—for three hours, at least—a life surrounded by significance, even if we were little more than shadows in that world. Some of these productions dispense with the pretense of theater altogether, instead branding themselves as made-for-Instagram “immersive exhibits,” like the recently closed Midtown installation Wonderland Dreams, by artist Alexa Meade, and the ongoing “custom-curated immersive experiences” at the Hall des Lumières in New York’s Financial District. At their best, immersive productions offer “a magical, intricate, wonderful experience you just get lost in for a few hours,” says Nick Atkinson, a former Sleep No More performer who originated the role of Maximilian Martel, one of the Manderley’s in-show cabaret hosts. Contrary to what so many of us once found in Sleep No More, many of today’s shows that bill themselves as “immersive” merely foster the idea that the audience is the star—or, as Atkinson puts it, “gotta get those selfies … to put out there.” Much of this shift can be felt even at the McKittrick Hotel these days, with Sleep No More less a piece of avant-garde theater than a requisite must-do for out-of-towners or couples on their third or fourth app-facilitated date.