Sleep No More NYC: My First Experience + Malcolm's Private Scene
A tyrant.
Secret lovers.
A haunted hotel.
Welcome, one and all, to the McKittrick Hotel, where amorous kisses and murderous intents conjoin to create an interplay of delusion, illusion, and heightened hysteria.
Welcome to Sleep No More.
First premiered in London, England, in 2003, Sleep No More is the darling of choreographic group Punchdrunk, led by Maxine Doyle. And what a darling time it’s been. The interactive, immersive show has now been running for over a decade, and it’s spread beyond Europe’s borders to the US, China, and, most recently, South Korea (summer of 2025).
This review will focus exclusively on the New York City edition (I’ve also been lucky to attend the closing day performance of Sleep No More Shanghai – review coming soon).
Sadly, the NYC show has closed its doors indefinitely amidst rumours of a legal battle between Punchdrunk and their landlord in NYC, Centaur Properties, with Punchdrunk allegedly owing $2 million+ in rent. In a more recent news article, that number has now risen to $5 million.
Therefore, this review is written in the past tense regarding the NYC edition. Nevertheless, it was an amazing show while it lasted, and Maxine Doyle made an appearance herself for the closing night performance, which I very fortunately managed to get a last-minute ticket for.
What is Sleep No More?
Sleep No More is an immersive retelling of Shakespeare’s Macbeth in the form of live dance and theatre, set in the 1930s era of speakeasies and illicit affairs.
It’s an experience. Guests are expected to come dressed their best or ready to sweat, whatever your personal preference. Either way, be prepared for a lot of running, high temperatures, and excitement (or fear) around every corner.
It’s the perfect blend of romance-meets-haunted-house, with elements of Clue and Sherlock Holmes, only you’re the Holmes of your own adventure.
How much the story actually follows Macbeth is anyone’s guess. I’d say it’s loosely based off of it, and you’d have a trying time attempting to piece together a coherent plot the first time round (oh, yes, people go back over and over; some fans have even made the trip over five hundred times).
Each edition of Sleep No More around the world is physically based in an old, derelict (and fictional) hotel. It’s as if The Twilight Zone and Murder on the Orient Express had a baby.
Each entry pass gives you two to three hours inside, depending on your entry time and city. Late entry times (eg. 8 PM) are usually only alotted two hours.
My experience at Sleep No More NYC
Buying the ticket
Trust the locals.
My NYC friend told me that if I had to do anything in the city, it was attend Sleep No More (spoken from a dancer to a dancer).
I was incredibly lucky that I got a ticket at all because I procrastinated with buying mine until the last few days before its permanent closure. Bad idea.
I really underestimated how popular the show is and how crazy NYC ticket mania is.
When I first checked, there was still moderately good availability. The second time, a banner stretched across the website saying, “Sold Out!” I felt my heart sink.
But, out of sheer obstinacy, I clicked into the calendar and checked anyway. Lo and behold, there was one ticket left!!!
Unfortunately, I ran into problems purchasing it because I was using a travel debit card, and my bank suspected fraud activity. By the time I proved it was me using the funds, that remaining slot was allegedly blocked.
But I didn’t give up. Sometimes life works in your favour out of sheer wilfulness.
I kept refreshing and checking back online until, finally, there opened one remaining ticket for the last show on the last day before Sleep No More NYC closed its doors indefinitely.
I bought it as soon as I saw. The final price was $221.50.
So, my fellow theatre-goers, sometimes “sold out” is just a marketing tactic. Spots open up; people cancel. It never hurts to check and keep checking.
Entering the Building
Arrive at the latest half an hour before your entry time. The line starts building early. While waiting, staff came down to check my ID and ticket, then gave me a stamp and a random playing card as my "room key"/souvenir.
Once inside the dimly lit lobby, we had to pay $4 for mandatory coat check. I left all my layers except for the t-shirt and pants I was wearing and took my phone and a credit card with me.
At "check-in," the concierge gave us each a black crossbody pouch to zip our valuables in. Then they locked it with a sensor tag. Remember to keep your playing card in the unzipped pocket outside because another staff member will fold the edge of it as you continue your way in.
Finally, they gave us white masks to wear the entire time (very Phantom of the Opera-esque). I didn't find them stuffy at all, but make sure to wear contact lenses if you need vision correction. Staff wear black masks and all black attire (the masks are to identify who the performers are – i.e. the people without them).
They reminded us that no talking is allowed while in the hotel. And with that, we descended into the darkness.
Inside the McKittrick Hotel
"Completed in 1939, The McKittrick Hotel was intended to be New York City’s finest and most decadent luxury hotel of its time. Six weeks before opening, and two days after the outbreak of World War II, the legendary hotel was condemned and left locked, permanently sealed from the public. Until now."
The "portal" through time is a long stretch of pitch-dark hallway that seemingly never ends, especially if it's your first time. I had to keep my hands on the wall to keep from keeling over; the unpredictability sort of gets to you (and also because groping the wall is the only way you'll make it through the hallway – you literally can't see a single foot ahead). We walked single-file.
Finally, there appeared a light at the end of the tunnel, and we emerged into a moody bar with flickering candles and soft music playing (or was it whispers of ghosts past?). A woman in an elegant gown awaited us, shot glass in hand.
"Welcome," she said lusciously. "Grab a shot."
Those of us who wanted to took a shot glass each from the servers. The woman introduced herself briefly and explained that what we were about to experience would be mysterious, magical, and all-in-it-together. Or something along that vein. If there's anything I remember for certain, it's that it almost felt as if I'd been sent on a very potent trip (the hallucinatory kind).
In fact, I found myself wondering as we were led by a staff member deeper into the building if the drinks hadn't been spiked with something. (Of course, this would never fly legally, so rest assured the drinks are just alcohol, but it's interesting to imagine.)
We emerged once again from darkness, only this time we found ourselves in a long, dimly-lit alleyway with village shops on both sides. It was chilly. We'd been transported back in time to the 1930s.
From here on out, it was every member for themselves, and the group quickly scattered as each person followed whatever piqued their interest.
I strolled around the shops for a few. There was an apothecary's and a tailor's and other usuals for that time. A crowd had gathered inside the local detective's shop, so I weaved my way in and sat down on a prop chair for a close-up view.
Two actors, a man and woman, were engaging sensuously behind the detective's desk. The man hugged the woman from behind, then lifted her up onto the table, and they kissed with a passionate ferocity that made me think their storyline – whatever it was at this point – was that of an illicit affair.
The woman left, and a part of the crowd rushed out hurriedly to follow her. I stayed inside.
The man moved to the back of the room, and I stood up with the others to try to peek in. I couldn't see much.
But when he came out, he came out slowly, each step deliberate, eyeing each person directly.
I stared at him unwaveringly, and when his eyes met mine, he stopped. He stared back.
He looked down and held out an egg in his palm to me.
Taking the cue, I reached my hand out – only for the man to grab it and yank me out of the room through a side door in a sudden race against time! The rest of the crowd was left behind.
He steered me into a hidden chamber and kabedon-ed me into the back corner. I was still reeling from the sudden action.
He stared at me intensely. He leaned in close. Then, gently, delicately, he raised his hand and lifted the mask slowly off my face –
(At this point, my mind was racing with nervous thoughts– or, rather, my body was feeling nervous things. Aren't we supposed to keep the masks on? This is insanely intimate. Can I talk??
This feels illegal!!! *blushes furiously*
>>> To be clear, this was within a performative format, and I was in no danger. It felt "illegal" in a how-am-I-getting-this-private-scene-with-an-attractive-guy-cornering-me-into-the-wall kind of way, as if I was the lead in a manhwa.)
– and backed away in horror, gasps of disbelief punctuating the air.
"Who are you?!"
He started rambling, words I barely caught in his agitation. Someone missing. She. Do I know her? Amidst all this he pinned me against the wall again.
I didn't dare move or speak, though I wanted to. I didn't know if I could. I just stared at him with wide, surprised, unknowing eyes.
At one point I think he asked me something, and I timidly shook my head no.
Eventually he directed my attention toward the table beside us. On it lay a box with more eggs inside. It seemed like he wanted me to choose one. Seeing my hesitation, he took an egg himself and placed it in my palm. With the egg in my right hand, he slowly brought my arm up, fingers interlacing with mine in a lover's lock.
Then he crushed the egg in my palm! – I jolted in surprise, but he kept a firm grip – and brushed its remains down my arm to my elbow.
The egg was filled with dust. Ashes.
He kabedon-ed me once again and started muttering in hysterics, a fever of excitement. Something about death. Something about blood.
He let go of me and gripped his head with his hands, tormented. He stammered in agony,
"I thought I heard her crying. I thought I heard her crying. I thought I heard her crying...
He looked back at me. In a moment of resolution, he returned the mask to my face.
Suddenly, he dashed out of the room without any warning. I followed as fast as I could, adrenaline pumping, but by the time I exited the secret room (don't leave me here!), he was gone.
I ran past the remaining village shops and up the stairs, coming out onto another floor. The time thereafter in my memories is a blur. I remember trying to find the detective again – so strong was the impression of the private scene – and bumping into new scenes and new characters throughout the five-floor building. No one else took me for a private ride, though.
I'd heard of some snippets to look out for before coming, like the famous blood-bath scene. I didn't encounter that, but I remember a shady hotel reception desk and a brawl between a man and a pregnant lady.
The lady seemingly died, and the man left. The crowd waited, sensing a change, and after a few minutes the pregnant lady got up and rearranged herself, smiling coyly.
She sauntered toward the stairwell in her foxy heels, and half of the crowd followed eagerly.
The storytelling was told through dance and physical theatre, with lots of contemporary partnering and sometimes a trio. The ladies wore timeless, sleek ballgowns and character heels; the men in suits and period clothing, looking respectful as could be unless they were killing someone.
Each time a crowd gathered, you could be sure a character was there. And after the "completion" of a scene, the crowd dispersed in a frenzy, sprinting behind their chosen one or choosing to stay for the next scene.
I did eventually see the detective again, though I had long since given up trying to follow one plotline (i.e. one character). I found myself much more interested in exploring the set design and the beehive rooms, and if I came upon an active scene, then I stopped and watched.
Of course, I participated in the mad dash to chase a character down the eerie, dim hallways when I could. Lots of shoving, squeezing, and stepped-on toes later, you learn to find the best vantage points by utilizing the props and architecture.
Oh, yes. The set design is absolutely there for you to engage with. There's so much to discover among the pages of a torn-up notebook, the purposely placed books in someone's library, the hidden candlelight behind a small cupboard.
One audience participant was dressed in a full-length ballgown, and I realized how true the term "immersive" was to this game.
The two hours flew by in a jiffy. In my last few moments, I found myself back among the village shops, this time in a confectionary shop I hadn't noticed in my hurry to follow the detective.
I saw other audience members plucking bon-bons from the neatly lined glass jars inside. I, too, decided to pop one in my mouth and slipped another into my pocket for later.
Soon, the people around me disappeared. One girl came in after me and left. A staff member in black silently directed me to the stairwell. More staff members pointed toward a lower floor, and I emerged into a grand ballroom lined with fir trees I'd passed through briefly before – only this time it was packed to the brim with the entire hotel's occupants (how were there this many people in the building?) watching the Last Dinner mockup onstage.
All the cast were there, engaging in a grand finale. In a dramatic climax, one man stepped on top of the dinner table and clutched at a rope loop hanging from the ceiling. He wrapped the cord under his chin.
The characters watched intently. The audience held its breath.
The man stepped off.
Gasps resounded throughout as the lights snapped dark at the same time.
Then the applause came. The lights faded back on, and the man was still swinging leisurely by the neck in midair. Somehow, the mechanism (or the help of his fellow castmates) helped him find his footing on the table behind again, and he safely unharnessed himself from the rope. The cast grouped together for a bow as the audience went wild.
I glanced over to the VIP section (box seating that had a centre view of the stage) to see its occupants with their masks off and none other than Maxine Doyle et al. smiling and clapping enthusiastically.
It was a whirlwind time.
I didn't care how much the ticket had cost me; I would not have missed that for my life.
Exiting the Hotel
The staff in black herded everyone out and downstairs, where we passed back through the Manderley Bar.
Further downstairs, they unlocked our pouches. From here, we could go back upstairs to buy a drink and enjoy the jazz music. The woman who toasted us at the beginning sang a set onstage, ending with Peggy Lee's tune from 1969,
"Is that all there is?
If that's all there is, my friends, then let's keep dancing..."
On the ground floor, we passed by the gift shop (of course, haha).
There were T-shirts and playing cards, tote bags and snow globes (allegedly, the snow globe contains a secret image of the Sleep No More mask if you shake it hard and peer closely).
One large poster sold extremely well, a vintage movie-style edit reminiscent of Old Hollywood. Unfortunately, I had no way to transport this back home with me in just a carry-on.
I took my sweet time looking through everything in the tiny, packed space and picked up a few items. My Pisces decision-making anxiety was through the roof. I ended up being the last person in line as staff announced closing times, and, finally, I put everything back, though it pained me to do so. That CAD-to-USD conversion rate is no joke.
Miraculously, as I was leaving the venue, a girl I had spoken to briefly in the gift shop stopped me. She offered a little trinket she had handmade: a tiny glass jar with the Sleep No More mask and tiny poker cards suspended inside, wrapped thoughtfully in a brown leather pouch. It was beautiful.
She'd made a handful of them for fun and was handing them out to audience members outside. Turns out the girl was a local artist, and I grabbed her artist Instagram before leaving.
This gift alone felt 100x more authentic and special than anything I could've bought at the gift shop (plus it was free!) – and, honestly, the quality of some of the merch inside was questionable considering their price points.
I thanked her profusely and made my way home with my new souvenir and bon-bon still with me, feeling so grateful that I witnessed this incredible piece of dance-theatre.
So what actually happened in my private scene?
Spoilers!
After some digging online, I managed to piece together the remaining parts of the private scene I'd gotten into a somewhat cohesive plot.
Turns out the man's name (i.e. his character) is Malcolm Mac’Crīnaīn, and he's the local detective with an office on High Street (aka. Gallow Green) called Mac Crinain & Reid Agency. Malcolm practices augury using birds and flight patterns, hence the eggs.
He's also the son of Duncan (King Duncan from MacBeth), who's murdered in the timeline.
Right before my one-on-one, he'd discovered Agnes rummaging suspiciously through his detective files in the office. They fought, then descended into a spell-induced flirtation before an unexpected visitor scared Agnes off. This is when I entered the hotel.
Malcolm went to his darkroom behind the office and fiddles with some bird carcasses and feathers. I couldn't see any of what was happening here. Then he walked out slowly, our eyes met, and thus began the wild interlude that was my highlight of Sleep No More.
After he cornered in his secret lair, took off my mask, and crushed the egg in my hand, this is what he said,
‘Do you see the signs, student?’
‘On Tuesday last, a falcon was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed.’
‘Duncan’s horses turned wild against nature as they would make war with mankind. Is it night’s predominance or the day’s shame that darkness does the face of earth entomb when living light should kiss it?’
‘It will have blood they say; blood will have blood.’
And the final, ‘I thought I heard a voice cry out, I thought I heard a voice cry out, I thought I heard a voice cry out.’
(Some of these lines are directly from MacBeth.)
Apparently, the mad dash out of the room is because Malcolm heard an alarm ringing that signified Duncan's death. I personally did not hear this alarm, nor do I remember getting the feather other reviewers have said they received from him before he leaves. Trust me, if I'd gotten the feather, I would've kept it as a souvenir.
One blog post I found also described having their fingers put in Malcolm's mouth.
It's possible that with my adrenaline so high, I just didn't register a lot of what was happening. It's also possible that my Malcolm changed the script a bit. Depending on your individual reactions, time cues, etc., the performers have a certain degree of autonomy to adjust as needed.
I've read reviews from some people who stayed behind in the lair, unsure what to do until a staff member came to wave them out.
I will say, though, that Malcolm is apparently a fan-favourite resident of the hotel. How many times can I thank my lucky stars I got one of the best scenes on my first trip down the rabbit hole?
I recommend doing some research online if you want to piece together the whole timeline from every character's perspective. Sleep No More is apparently a mix of influences from MacBeth, Alfred Hitchcock films, the film noir genre, classic literature, and the Paisley witch trials of 1697.
Here's a great blog post I found that explains the whole thing:
https://beyongthelines2016.wordpress.com/01/02/snm/
Bonus: There's a 6th floor?!
Oh my, oh my. Imagine my shock when I read a blog post detailing the secret sixth floor of the hotel! What an extremely lucky audience member! The sixth floor is tied to the Nurse's private scene, and apparently a staff member is always guarding the entrance to it otherwise.
According to the article, a voice rang out, calling, "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." If you don't know, that's the famous opening line of the gothic novel Rebecca. Suddenly, I understood why the bar was called the Manderley Bar.
There are so many allusions to literary and art culture in Sleep No More that it could take you a lifetime to experience them all.
Here's the article detailing the sixth floor. Now you know to watch out for a chance to go up there next time you check in.
The Creative Adventurer
FAQs
How do I experience Sleep No More?
Sleep No More is best experienced solo. Trust me on this; even if you come as a group or in pairs, you will get split up eventually — or lose each other along the way, whichever comes first.
In fact, in some cities, the staff will actively try to separate couples and groupies (see my Shanghai review).
The temperature will get a bit hot and humid inside, so dress light for summer and have layers for winter. You can leave any heavy clothing and sweaters at coat check; don’t worry, you really won’t need them — coming from someone who gets cold easily.
Once inside, you’ll enter a whole new realm of mystery and intrigue. People who’ve done their research beforehand may be tempted to figure out the plotline or insist on following one actor the whole time, but in my experience, it’s best to just go with the flow.
Forget about making sense of anything; the more you try to do so, the less coherent things will seem. Besides, it’s much more fun to relax and chase after whatever piques your interest, whether that’s a particular performer, a dark alleyway, or a hushed whisper around the corner. At Sleep No More, you’re allowed to be distracted. You’re allowed to go wherever your intuition leads you.
Oh, and don’t forget your sneakers. Running is not mandatory but highly recommended. (If anything, it adds to the heightened suspense of things.)
Each member of the audience is as much a part of the cast as the performers themselves. So much so, that it's encouraged to interact with the props and furniture. They're there for you, so feel free to flip that tantalizing book or look through the secret love letters of an elopement gone wrong. Just be mindful of any set pieces that the performers are using, and don't move any heavy furniture from one place to another. Basically, anything you can pick up easily in your hands is fair game (as long as you return it).
How should I dress for Sleep No More?
Speaking of sneakers, here’s a clarification for anyone wondering what’s appropriate to wear to Sleep No More.
As long as you’re comfortable, and it doesn’t hinder anyone else, you can wear whatever you want. I’ve seen people show up in full-out ball gowns and floor-length dresses, with a full face of makeup to boot (hey, if you're not afraid of sweating it off, go for it).
Most people show up with T-shirts and jeans or sweatpants (as I did). It’s really anyone’s game.
The cast members are decked out in 1930-esque gowns and formalwear, so you can definitely go fancy to match their vibe.
Can I take photos and videos?
No. The staff will make you put your phone and wallet into a black bag, then seal it with a security tag. Anything else you bring with you should be left at coat check.
(I know, I want the memories too, but we should be respectful of the show's rules. Besides, the adventure's much more fun when you're not glued to a camera.)
That being said, many people did whip out their phones during the finale. They must've broken the security tag somehow.
After the finale, the crowd is herded back outside, where staff will unseal your bag for you, and you can go back to the Manderley Bar for a drink. The bar after the show is the only place where taking photos and videos is allowed.
Do I have to wear the mask the entire time?
Yes. It's important for staff to distinguish between performers and audience members. If you happen to forget your mask after a private scene or lose it somewhere, ask a staff member in black for another.
Also, if you start wandering around without a mask, you'll find you'll become a very interesting center of attention.
Of course, if you need a breather or are feeling unwell, notify a staff member or rest in the washroom for a bit.
Are there washrooms?
Yes! Washrooms are available in the bar before you head inside. There are also washrooms within the hotel you can ask a staff member to direct you to.
Am I really not allowed to speak?
Speaking is not allowed inside the hotel except during private scenes (aka. one-on-one's) or if you need help from a staff member. If a performer invites you to speak, feel free to do so. Other than that, it's best to keep silent and enjoy the moment, then gab about it at the end of the show. It keeps the atmosphere alive.
What if I miss a scene? Or arrive in the middle of one?
Don't fret; all the storylines cycle and repeat. Each scene is intricately timed to link to another one, and once the whole story is "over," everything sets back to the beginning. You've got about maybe two or three chances to catch a specific scene again, although it's hard to determine when the next cycle will begin.
Remember, you won't know what time it is inside. Unless you're a seasoned Sleep No More resident, my advice is to just go with the flow and forget about ticking scenes off like a to-do list.
Are gift shop items the same across the globe?
No! This is where it gets fun. Just like how each edition of Sleep No More is curated to the city and culture it takes place in, gift shop items also change from city to city.
This can be due to resources, buying habits, design, etc. In my opinion, Sleep No More Shanghai has much better merchandise than New York City (probably, they were all made in China anyway). Read the Shanghai review for a sneak peek.
It's sold out. What do I do?
Keep refreshing and checking the website. People cancel last-minute all the time, or the organizers will release extra tickets closer to a specific date. It's worth going into the event calendar to check, even if there's a big "SOLD OUT" banner across their homepage.
References / Resources
To find out the whole story about Sleep No More (and the articles that helped me piece together what happened after the fact), I recommend these great gems:
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Steven Surman
Contributors to Sleep No More Wiki
HER Cooper