Storehouse review – an aesthetically impressive yet overambitious immersive production

New kids on the immersive block, Sage and Jester, have lofty goals. Their mission is to tackle “the silent tide of misinformation” through entertainment, inspired by founder Liana Patarkatsishvili’s experiences growing up in Soviet and then post-Soviet Georgia. Its first full-scale show is Storehouse, an ambitious 90-minute piece in a former paper warehouse in Deptford.

Set in a fictionalised version of here and now, audience members take on the role of trustees at Storehouse, a secretive home of an archive that has been meticulously recorded since the invention of the internet in 1983. In groups of roughly 30, we’re introduced, via a promenade format, to the ethos and work of Storehouse until things inevitably start to go awry, with ink leaking from the ceilings, books sprouting unsettling markings and growths, and mysterious messages emerging.

The production design by Alice Helps is truly spectacular. From an epic in scope final room to beautiful, tiny details, it’s an ’80s woodland fairy tale. From twisted reams of wool housing library ladders and paper cut art to willow nests with ink and paper spilling out, it’s magnificent stuff. It’s supported beautifully by Ben Donoghue’s creative, evocative lighting that flickers and glows and does wonderful narrative work.

While Storehouse’s message is laudable, the storytelling struggles under its weight. There are some lovely details and moments, and huge potential, but the narrative, created by an eight-person writer’s room, can’t quite find a happy medium between spelling everything out and complex lore that’s hard to follow. The actors are tasked with monologues overflowing with exposition, but they are all taking a very good stab at it. Each group has three core characters with them, and in our case, all three actors with us are confident and charismatic, especially when given a bit of breathing room for chattier moments. Dawn Butler stands out as the anxious bookbinder Andie, who does a lovely job of adding warmth and wit. The high-profile voice actors (Meera Syal, Toby Jones, Kathryn Hunter and Billy Howle) make sense narratively but are only lightly featured.

Two groups join together for the finale, which means half the characters delivering the climax are new to half the audience. Combined with the particularly on-the-nose writing, this lessens the emotional impact of the last reveals and conclusions. Although the characters are betrayed and weeping, there was some unfortunate giggling from the audience and wisecracking to some of the questions posed at the performance I attended. Audiences leave that scene and head towards an epically scaled final set with incredible music that should feel euphoric, but the show simply struggles to guide us to that emotional point. It’s a shame that it doesn’t use the immersive format to involve patrons more profoundly in the story, given its themes and goals, as we are never more than helpful observers.

Storehouse works best when it’s leaning into a darkly whimsical energy and centring human moments of connection over complicated lore and heavy-handed messaging. But despite its problems, it’s a physically impressive show with a talented cast and should be welcomed as an intriguing new player in the immersive scene.