Immediately following the events at the end of Matt Reeve’s The Batman, Gotham City is in shambles. The city has been flooded after The Riddler blew the levees and it’s the perfect time to go underground… to a nightclub? Yes, absolutely.
But not just any nightclub, it’s time for a visit to The Iceberg Lounge, domain of Oz Cobb “The Penguin” played by Colin Farrell. In advance of the September premiere of The Penguin series on Max, creative agency Giant Spoon recreated The Iceberg Lounge for San Diego Comic-Con on Friday and Saturday nights. Despite a (real, not part of the “show”) nearby fire that evacuated the building and delayed the start of the activation, The Iceberg Lounge was well run, intensely immersive, and full of brilliant touches and acting that gave me chills.
Using the Bloom Nightclub on 4th Ave, our adventure began with branded wristbands with two drink tickets attached. No outside food or drink was allowed and we were asked to check any larger bags once we entered the bar below. Small groups of about 6 were invited inside in intervals of 1-2 minutes to allow each group to enjoy the entry experience. On Saturday night, there was a hostess who greeted “club-goers”, to introduce them to the world and to pass along salutations from “The Boss”.
Both nights, our group first descended a flight of stairs ringed with debris: insulation falling from the ceiling, trash gathered on the floor, the sound of water pouring down the walls which were covered in Gotham propaganda and ephemera. At the bottom, light peeks through and steam puffs up from the Gotham City manhole cover, and the sounds of subway trains overhead added yet another realistic touch to the theme.
A pair of silent henchmen guard the doors to an elevator. Is this Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum? They aren’t telling, unless you count them staring holes right through us.
In the elevator, the story continues, as we descend further underground, aided by a giant screen on one wall and the surrounding screech of the drive machine lowering us to subterranean Gotham. We smile up at the security camera, our host explaining that the “boss” wants to see everyone who enters his club (and you’re able to send your picture to yourself once inside.)
When the doors open, the bass is thumping and all signs point to this being a traditional nightclub. Never mind the giant screen of security camera monitors behind the fencing, here’s a well-dressed hostess with a tray full of cherry-flavored Slush Puppies to put us in the mood. The flood debris theming continues in this first room, with more trash and newspapers strewn about, cables and electrical tubing drooping from the ceiling where whole pipes are hanging down. One wall featured a set of lit double doors guarded by a suited employee, finger on his earpiece as he looks us over and whispers into his cuff. We’ll come back to him later.
A short queue has formed along another wall, leading into a room hidden by heavy plastic strips, like a meat locker. Stacked around the doorway are wooden crates and barrels, all stamped with the name and insignia FEMA. Looks like the Gotham flood has attracted the attention of the government too. Behind the plastic curtains, it’s anything but official government business.
Oz Cobb’s “soldiers” are hard at work sorting, weighing and bagging “Drops,” the popular and lethal narcotic manufactured by the Falcone Crime Syndicate. The folks working this room were top notch actors, engaging the guests, slipping them a sample packet of Drops (which actually contained an enamel pin), commiserating about finding good “worker bees” for their operation, and attempting to recruit you into distributing for them (or questioning you if you looked suspicious). Those who were already on board were invited to get the mark of the boss (airbrush) tattooed on themselves. We passed on the tattoo but pocketed some “Drops” for later.
We followed the music back into a larger room where a DJ was playing, bookended by two cages, each with an energetic dancer. A hot dog cart was busy serving snacks and a few people mingled about the dance floor while most of us ringed the perimeter. The music stopped and the huge video display behind the DJ started to play the trailer. Everyone seemed rapt, with spontaneous cheering erupting at the end, morphing into more dancing as the music took back over.
The bar was offering exclusive themed drinks and the Shush Puppy machines were churning away.
Back in the (slightly) quieter room, we peeked behind a heavy velvet curtain marked “backstage” and were greeted by “Peaches,” a young woman relegated to this well-adorned but very messy dressing room. Peaches was relieved to see us, complaining about being left alone for so long to watch everyone stuff and not having any fun at all. We offered our sympathy, but that seemed to spark some worry in Peaches, who absolutely did not want us to tell anyone that she was complaining. In exchange for our promise of silence, Peaches offered us the “password for the other club.” We pinky swore our silence.
Armed with a password we decided it was time to approach the imposing guarded lit double doors and offered a whispered “Francis” to the gentleman at the door. With one arm he swept the door open and ushered us in. So this was the “club within the club,” 44 Below.
We were immediately greeted by a suited (but maybe a little slimy?) employee who welcomed us, rubbing his palms together, saying he saw our name on the guest list and had been hoping we’d show up. He explained that this was the boss’ domain but that we had carte blanche to enjoy everything he had to offer. “Whatever you want? It’s yours!” Sidenote: Clearly these folks have no idea how thirsty SDCC attendees are for swag, they couldn’t possible mean it, could they?
Contrary to the Iceberg Lounge and its modern, red, and cold lighting, 44 Below was 100% art deco, gold, warmth, and decadence.
Oz Cobb’s signature cigars were being hand rolled in one corner, where a cigar sommelier would help us pick our perfect blend, presented in a glass tube, for enjoyment later. A photo op dominated the back wall, where we could have our pictures taken and printed, presented to us in a “Let’s Be Pals” envelope along with two postcard-sized advertisements for the show.
Behind one of the plush sitting areas, a Jefferson’s Bourbon tasting could be found. For anyone counting, that would make a total of 4 free drinks available for all guests (2 drink tickets, a bourbon tasting and Slush Puppies (SIDENOTE: There was a time on Saturday that Slush Puppies were in short supply thanks to the machines needing to be reset, leaving some without the opportunity to paint their lips and tongues bright cherry red. Sorry, Kerry!)
Servers circulated the room, going from high-top table to table offering plates of comfort foods (sliders, arancini bites, and chicken satay) and a second airbrush station was tucked behind a sitting area with sofas and chairs. On Friday night, much of the room was dominated by a long line for a table of artisans that were custom fitting gold and silver chains onto the wrists of patient guests. This was a lovely touch, and would have made for some incredible swag, but the process was so incredibly slow going and the line so long that many guests were not able to experience this gift. On Saturday, there was no bracelet station, which helped to open up 44 Below enough to make it easier to move around and navigate the room.
Of course we all love a little swag, and some arm candy courtesy of “The Boss” would have been an excellent take-away, but not getting a bracelet didn’t diminish my experience. On the contrary, I was perfectly happy with my “Drops” enamel pin and my fancy cigar, my branded paper napkin, my photos, and envelope. Allowing room for more people to experience the 44 Below portion of the experience is always going to win in my book.
Overall, I was incredibly impressed with the multiple actors and their immersion skills. From the stoic twins at the entry, to Peaches in her dressing room and the (just a little bit too) wired manager of the Drops pushers who was trying to help himself to the product, everyone was on their A-game and helped to enchant me and draw me deeper into their world.
There were small differences between my experience on Friday night and Saturday night. We did not get to experience the “elevator” scene on Friday (timing? the fire next door?) and we also weren’t greeted upon entry by a hostess. Both of those increased my feeling of immersion on Saturday. And while the lack of bracelets on Saturday night didn’t take anything away from the 44 Below, and in fact made it more comfortable in there, we also didn’t get approached and welcomed by the “bouncer” on Saturday, a small but important difference when I take the whole story into consideration.
The through-put was perhaps not as high as some of the other experiences, but it’s clear that Max and creative agency Giant Spoon valued quality over quantity, and hit their mark at every turn.
