The finale of Magna Mysteria in a big top behind the back of Temple Meads was billed as “the most spectacular showdown Bristol has ever seen”. It wasn’t. In fact, it was neither spectacular nor a showdown, rather a group of a few hundred puzzled people wondering if that was all that was going to happen.
Last night was the culmination of a fortnight of events which had, for me, started with a video installation in a traditional wooden gypsy caravan outside the Old Vic, taken in a visit to a mindreader (The Siren) in a fantastically-decorated former Victorian toilet on the corner of Woodland Road and Park Row, and then a sit-down dinner hosted by a pair of cackling sisters in the crypt of St John the Baptist Church on Broad Street.
In the caravan we had collected a tarot card, which enabled The Siren to magically know my name, and the Morrellini sisters to know my star sign. This was thanks to a link-up with the Pervasive Media Studio, with texts, emails and tweets also appearing at regular intervals.
There was talk of the mysterious Magician, several hundred years old, who we were told never showed up to events. So it was no surprise that he didn’t turn up to the finale in the big top either.
Regardless of the Magician’s no-show, there was a palpable sense of disappointment at the conclusion, with several people I spoke to not even hearing about the previous events happening, so feeling even more lost than the rest of us.
If there was an over-arching storyline, it passed me by. In the tent, we had downloaded a particular piece of music corresponding to our tarot card onto our phones on the instruction of The Siren, and played them all on queue. But the volume was not loud enough, and the chatter also drowned out The Siren’s voice on speakers as she perhaps explained what on earth was happening.
The visit to The Siren was a special treat, something that for me happened during the middle of the day during my lunch break from work, which made it feel that I was part of a secretive cult. Three knocks on the door, the door opened, The Siren sat on a table with her eyes closed, telling me things, then opening her eyes as she said my name. How did she know who I was? This really did feel like magic.
Happening over a fortnight during Mayfest last year was Fortnight, once again using Pervasive Media Studio technology with participants the owners of a felt broach that was hand-delivered to our front doors early one morning. Events happened across Bristol, and felt genuinely special to be part of, uniquely tailored to us all despite also being experienced by everyone else with a broach, that took us from a house in Clifton to an office block overlooking Castle Park.
Fortnight was an event that nobody wanted to end. Magna Mysteria had an end which nobody knew about, or more importantly, cared about, if these grumblings on Twitter were a fair reflection of the mood.
Magna Mysteria had so much potential but hugely failed to live up to expectations. It had moments of brilliance, but these were fleeting, and as I left the big top I felt deflated and just a bit cheated.
