Review: Poe: Pulse & Pendulum

“Blindness can get in the way of business,” suggests a character in this Poe-inspired immersive.  Not so in the intriguing production; in fact, it might even enhance it.

Immersive Scene Los Angeles 2026 Review

Prior to attending Poe: Pulse & Pendulum, the two-play, fully blindfolded experience, I’ll admit to a few doubts.  Could a show – let alone two in this case –  sustain an audience’s interest for an entire evening when vision is completely removed from the equation?  While I’ve experienced productions in the past in which blindfolds were temporarily employed, none dared use them for the duration of an entire performance.  I needn’t have worried. 

Here, from the very first sound cue to the singularly revealing curtain call at the end of the evening (save for a short intermission in between), you’ll see absolutely nothing but the inside of your blindfold.  Instead, your other senses – especially your hearing – become your guide as the drama in the dark unfolds all around you.  The results range from intriguing to downright fascinating.  It’s a bold concept, and a creatively brave one that works, executed with finesse by creator Paul Millet and fellow director Gabrieal Griego.

With Theatre Obscura L.A.'s inaugural production, Millet's company breaks new ground.  The former artistic director of Wicked Lit has a loyal following who will show up for nearly anything he stages, simply because his past immersive work has consistently ranked among the best in Los Angeles.   That fan base arrives with high expectations, inevitably measuring the current production against other memorable offerings from Lit’s days.  This one clearly measures up to that level, yet it’s delivered in an entirely unique package.

Here, Millet adapts two of Edgar Allan Poe’s most memorable gothic stories for the night’s proceedings:  The Pit and the Pendulum and The Tell-Tale Heart.  The first, which he also directs, proves especially well-suited to the audio effects that take center stage during it.  The closer – helmed by Griego, and the highlight of the night  –  achieves maximum impact through a clever time-jumping structure, and a fuller cast presentation that has you leaning in to see, er, hear more.   Both pieces are inspired artistic choices: one centers on being trapped in the dark, the other on matters of the eye. Once you slip on your blindfold, you’re essentially experiencing both themes yourself.

Two images from the evening: Top, a view before the show; Bottom, your view during it

The Pit and the Pendulum kicks the evening off shortly after your arrival at downtown’s Count’s Den Theatre, one of the city’s most reliable venues for inventive immersive work.  After some introductory string music, there’s the obligatory reminder to turn phones off, a directive to put your blindfold on, and a caution to stay in your seat for maximum impact….and safety.    Daring to walk around in the pitch black could be a quick path to a broken ankle.

Then the lights (such as they were) went out.  Our group of about forty guests suddenly felt like a private audience of just one; the simple act of covering your eyes quickly isolated you in a way that was surprisingly immediate.  Aside from a cough or giggle here and there, it became easy to imagine that you, too, were being held alone in a dark, solitary cell during the Spanish Inquisition, where the horrors took place sometime near the end of that centuries-long period around 1808.

The anguished recusant of the story now relives his unimaginable ordeal, recalling his imprisonment in a stone chamber where death lurks in multiple forms.  Having already narrowly avoided falling to his death into a large pit at its center, he now faces the second part of his nightmare: the sound of grinding of gears overhead and the sudden realization that a razor-sharp pendulum is descending perilously closer to his body.   As it swings back and forth, lower and lower, the trapped man lays out his improvised plan for survival in a feverish blend of terror and clarity that makes the tale all the more harrowing. 

And without the use of your eyes to take in any of this, you're compelled to listen at a deeper level, parsing every word of his vivid description at a degree of attention you might never reach were you not blindfolded. As the enormous scythe lowers nearer and nearer toward its victim, you too begin to feel trapped in your seat as the sound grows louder, fuller, seeming to inch closer to you as well with each pass of the death blade.  The occasional blast of wind from its swing, the skittering retreat of rats, the subtle shifts in the room’s atmosphere all conspire to make your skin crawl.   And if you’re tempted to peek to make sure it’s not all real  – don’t!  Let the darkness finish its task.

As the sole-performer in this opening piece, Joe Camareno—playing the Recusant—moves through the room in near constant motion.   At times he passes close enough by that you’ll feel the air shift; moments later he’s fully across the invisible playing space in close proximity to others.   Wherever he happens to be, his voice carries with clarity as he retraces the terror of his imprisonment during that living hell that was the Inquisition.  Camareno’s rich, expressive delivery captures both the despair of hopelessness and the sheer exultation of survival, all within an entirely unseen performance.  And, it’s quite a bit of real estate indeed for a single actor to cover alone as he works the large space, but he handles the physical and emotional demands of the role beautifully.

If Pit is the tasty first course of the evening, The Tell-Tale Heart is the full entrée that lifts the aural-centric experiment to its highest level.  You know the concept now: blindfold back on, stay seated, and…listen.  Listen close.  We are now in Boston, in the latter half of the 19th century, as the certifiable madman of the tale paces through his absent uncle's city townhouse, exhibiting equal measures of mania, volubility and ego. He positively exalts in his recent homicidal accomplishment, banging and boasting loudly enough to wake the neighbors and, inevitably, arouse the suspicion of the police who soon arrive to investigate. 

Clever enough to initially outwit the law, who already regard this peculiar man as a person of interest in something nefarious, yet to be determined, he nearly has them out the door before his guilty conscience, manifested in the sound of the victim’s still-beating heart, reveals itself in spectacular, room-filling fashion.  His fate is sealed.

In this second performance of the night, director Gabrieal Griego benefits from a larger ensemble – therefore a fuller tapestry of voices – to fill the space.   Her gifted cast, nearly all Wicked Lit veterans, delivers stellar character work across the board.   Eric Keitel, as Edward, is outrageously wicked, frightening and fun as he tears into the megalomaniac murderer who has it all under control…until he very much doesn’t.  Richard Large, as his ill-fated uncle, offers a pitch-perfect vocal performance.  And, as the officers, Andrew Thacher and Andrew Villarreal impress equally, balancing the gravity of their investigation with the unexpected moments of humor that a few stiff drinks add to their scenes. 

Griego’s direction is swift and cleverly attuned with this audio-themed format.  Not surprisingly, she has a background in sound design.  With the use of one recurring, highly effective sound cue, she snaps us seamlessly from past to present and back again.  It’s a highlight of the night.  Like Millet, Griego wastes no time on pregnant pauses or cluttered bits of business, all of which amplifies Poe’s extraordinary language.   While there was a moment or two in the first show when I might have wished to see what the actor was doing, Tell-Tale painted its world so vividly that I surrendered completely to the want of sight.

In Poe: Pulse & Pendulum, your ears assume full command  – essentially taking on double duty.  With your vision cut off, you rely heavily on the actors' voices and vivid descriptions to bring you along on their journey.  Since you can’t see them, or anything else for that matter, your other senses tune in to compensate.  The voices always, yes, but also the faintest sounds, the well-placed echoes, the slightest shifts in air pressure, the intensity of approaching footsteps – all acquire an uncommon weight.  Even the brush of a passing rodent causes a goosebump. 

Two people you won't see until curtain call (photo by Eric Keitel)

Leading the way is the sound.  The terrific sound.  Without the right mix and, just as crucially, the meticulous placement of speakers throughout the room, this would be considered a well-acted, well-directed performance in the dark, and that alone would already be impressive.  But instead, the audio soundscape  – a standout performer in its own right – is not just supporting the action but lifting it to another level entirely.  Layered audio effects flow across the room, glide around you, and even swoop down from above on one occasion.  All credit here to Sound Designer Joseph “Sloe” Slawinski for mapping out the large rectangular space with precision and filling it with memorable sounds, both near and distant, subtle and shocking.

In some ways, the whole experience reminded me of great radio dramas of the past  –those vocally driven, sound-effects-rich productions that conjured entire worlds for listeners who had only their imaginations to rely on.   But here it’s something more; you’re creating images in your head too, and now you're inside the radio itself, immersed in its inner workings as full sound envelops you.

And, what about that part of the evening that rarely makes reviews?  The curtain call.  This one may be the most anticipated in history, because you finally get a chance to see the performers who have had you on the edge of your seat for the past two hours!

It’s rare to experience something genuinely new – even in the ever-inventive world of immersive theatre  – but Millet and company have managed it.  The blindfold isn’t just a gimmick here or a hook; it compels you to rethink theatrical storytelling in a way most sighted audiences have never considered before. 

And speaking of that blindfold, it takes just a few minutes in this double-bill to acclimate comfortably to wearing an eye mask for the entire night.  The sensation of the blindfold is noticeable at first but it fades quickly as the first story takes hold.  (Semi-pro tip: for maximum comfort close your eyes beneath the mask – your corneas will thank you.)   

With only nine performances remaining, Immersive Scene Los Angeles highly recommends heading downtown to catch a show that truly amounts to a living theatre of the mind. And with the aptly named Theatre Obscura behind it, one can imagine there could be more senses-altered experiments in the future.  This blindfolded concept but in a site-specific moving play (led by guides, of course) would be a fascinating next evolution…though, admittedly, I’m not the one footing the insurance bills for such a risky, potentially foot-spraining endeavor.

Poe: Pulse & Pendulum

The Count's Den

1039 South Olive Street

Downtown Los Angeles

Fri-Sat-Sun March 27 thru April 12

Tickets: $ 60.00