I Took a Plunge and Tried the Strangest New Spa Trend

On a chilly Tuesday night in January, 90 New Yorkers filed into the wellness center Othership in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, for an immersive “sauna-theater” event described as a first for the wellness brand—and, likely, for the city at large.

“Only this month,” the website announced, “The Death of Rasputin unfolds inches away through heat and cold, drawing you into rituals of confession and baptism.”

The production, staged by the theatre group Artemis is Burning, is a condensed adaptation of a longer production that debuted last May in an arts building on Governors Island. The original staging reenacts Grigori Rasputin’s life and assassination, inviting audiences to “witness the strange and shimmering magic that swirls around history’s original Bad Boy.” In the sauna version, however, Rasputin’s death is not performed. It was hardly a zen killing, after all.

Adjusted for the constraints of the sauna setting, including intense heat and cold exposure, as well as limited space, the performance ran for sixty minutes. It featured a limited number of actors—just four, playing Rasputin and singular embodiments of Russia’s royal family, noble class and revolutionaries—who performed in full costume, which grew noticeably damp and clingy as the show went on.

Like other immersive productions, including Sleep No More and Life and Trust, the audience was treated as part of the performance. Granted, the narrative of Rasputin’s death does not naturally lend itself to self-care and guided breathwork, but the setting—dimly lit rooms, dripping walls, and stone floors—supplied its own atmosphere.

In one scene depicting Rasputin’s baptism, both performers and regular sauna-goers were instructed to plunge repeatedly into ice baths and scream, echoing the fear and strain of life under the Romanov dynasty. Though set in 1916 imperial Russia, the moment also gestured toward the present, with participants encouraged to direct their screams toward the current state of the world.

As bodies emerged from the thirty-eight-degree water, one actor moved through the room with a small vial, asking, “Would you like to be anointed with oil, now that you’ve been baptized?”

An optional hour followed, during which attendees were invited to circulate independently among the sauna, ice baths, and common area.

Reactions to the performance were mixed—perhaps inevitably. Some participants played along, chanting “All hail the light” and raising their arms in unison. Others were less enthusiastic, particularly about the cold plunge. “My skin has recovered, but my bones are still cold,” one man said, rubbing his shins as he sat on the highest bench of the sauna.

Outlandish self-care schemes are not new to New York—from full body lymphatic drainage to vaginal steaming—though Othership has distinguished itself by hosting late-night sauna “socials” and other events, including inter-sauna comedy, DJ takeovers, and sauna raves. The collaboration with The Death of Rasputin, the co-director said, was initiated by Othership and included complementary non-alcoholic sparkling wine and a take-home incense stick. All four performances were sold out.

Describing itself as a community space, Othership also offers daily wellness classes intended to foster belonging, with taglines that include “appreciation rather than appropriation” and “trauma-informed rather than trauma-ignorant.”

For a place that describes nearly every room, bench, and hallway as part of “the commons,” you might expect pricing to be accessible. But then again, for a place that describes nearly every room, bench, and hallway as part of “the commons,” accessible pricing is probably the last thing you’d expect.

Tickets for The Death of Rasputin performance cost $100; an unlimited monthly membership costs $333, with discounted off-peak options available.

Part of the appeal of immersive theatre appears to be its promise of revolution and participatory resistance. It is hard not to notice, though, that people are paying good money to experience said upheaval while wrapped in plush towels, breathing cedar-scented steam, and knowing exactly when the session will end.

Following its run at Othership, The Death of Rasputin is expected to continue in a more permanent form. According to its creator and co-director, Ashley Brett Chipman, the team is securing a space in Chelsea, where a full-length version of the show is slated to run later this year.