James Richards

Latest articles from James Richards

Review: The Drowned Man, by Punchdrunk

The door to the lift opens, and, with a mask partly obscuring your vision, you stumble out into the darkened main street of an American diner town in 1962. Actors are performing a silent scene in front of you that makes no immediate sense. Everywhere you look there are shops and houses which you can enter – each replicated in breathtakingly minute detail.

Review: The Drowned Man, by Punchdrunk

The door to the lift opens, and, with a mask partly obscuring your vision, you stumble out into the darkened main street of an American diner town in 1962. Actors are performing a silent scene in front of you that makes no immediate sense. Everywhere you look there are shops and houses which you can enter – each replicated in breathtakingly minute detail.

Review: The Drowned Man, by Punchdrunk

The door to the lift opens, and, with a mask partly obscuring your vision, you stumble out into the darkened main street of an American diner town in 1962. Actors are performing a silent scene in front of you that makes no immediate sense. Everywhere you look there are shops and houses which you can enter – each replicated in breathtakingly minute detail.