The Doctor. The Painter. The Writer. Three wretched, disparate souls all long since removed from the discordant shackles of all that is good and godly.
We looked at the murky fever-swamps of pulp horror and the tormented life of H.P. Lovecraft and thought: yeah, we can do something disgusting with that.
Autopsy is 3D binaural theatre for the genuinely curious and the slightly unhinged. Each performance begins with a choice — and only one choice. You pick a corpse. The Doctor, the Painter, or the Writer. Three wretched souls, all mercifully no longer among the living. Each with a story that should probably stay buried. Each with secrets rotting quietly in the labyrinths of what remains.
In the name of science, we cracked them open anyway.
One of three possible different shows, each a genre-bending immersion into haunted lives, terrible deaths, and the specific flavour of blasphemous mystery that each of our dearly departed managed to accumulate before shuffling off. Audiences choose their tale, strap in, and go somewhere they probably can't come back from entirely unchanged.
Sometimes man must pry the eyes.
How We Pulled It Off
Building on everything we'd learned from Debris and PAVLOV, Autopsy pushed the binaural format further by creating three entirely separate immersive audio experiences in parallel — meaning on any given night, audience members could have a completely different show. The branching choice isn't cosmetic; each tale is its own fully realised world, with its own sonic landscape, its own Lovecraftian dread, its own particular wrongness.
The 3D audio placed voices and sounds with the same spatial precision we'd refined across previous productions, building an atmosphere that doesn't so much surround you as it inhabits the same air you're trying to breathe.
The Team
Sound Design — Connor McConnell Written by — Harry Machray Composer — Tammy Howarth Designer — Dylan Howells Stage Manager — Kate Condon Producer — Joe Ramsden
Featuring the vocal talents of: Karen Young · Duncan Riches · Rebecca Ozer
They may be gone. But perhaps in the rotting labyrinths of flesh and bone that remains of them — the key to who they were, what they are — may finally reveal itself.
