What lies beneath Cork's Nightmare Realm as the scare-fest comes to Dublin

Halloween is big business, as Karl O’Connor knows. His Nightmare Realm has proved so popular since it opened in Cork in 2011, he’s bringing the scare fest to Dublin. He brings Marjorie Brennan on the grand tour.
What lies beneath Cork's Nightmare Realm as the scare-fest comes to Dublin

Halloween is big business now with scare shows and events a fixture in most cities and towns. One of the originals, Nightmare Realm, has gone from strength to strength in the scare stakes as competitors enter the market.

Established in Tralee, Co Kerry, in 2009, it moved to Cork in 2011 and is also making its debut in Dublin this year.

This year’s theme for the Cork show is Hostel and I’m checking in, with creator Karl O’Connor as my guide. I’m not exactly looking forward to being a guest of this particular establishment and as I head towards the warehouse on Cork’s docklands where the ‘hostel’ is situated, I’m grateful for the remaining daylight.

When I open the door and hear the screams I’m ready to run but O’Connor is waiting and there’s nowhere to hide. I gabble away, eager to postpone the inevitable. While the scariest spectacle I was exposed to as a child was the Ghost Train in Tramore, Co Waterford, expectations now are much higher.

“People travel a lot now so they’ve been to places like Disneyworld, they expect a high standard,” says O’Connor. “Things have moved on a lot since the 80s and 90s when people were wrapping tea towels around their heads and bobbing for apples. It’s a multi-million euro industry now, second only to Christmas and it’s getting bigger.”

O’Connor, who studied production design and animation in Dun Laoghaire, Dublin, travels to Halloween trade shows all over the world for inspiration.

“We go to haunts all over the world, in Asia, America. It’s a big business,” he says.

While I’d be more than happy to keep chatting, the first set of victims has emerged, blinking into the light. There’s a few white faces and a lot of nervous laughter and O’Connor seems pretty happy with the results. Now it’s my turn.

While I’m willing to let O’Connor lead the way, he and the photographer, Miki, are real gentlemen, insisting on ‘ladies first’. Something tells me that chivalry is not the motivating factor. The first thing that hits me as I open the door is the sickly smell. It’s probably emanating from the highly convincing ‘receptionist’ with the straggly beard, grubby white vest and intense, staring eyes who jumps out to hand me the key to my room. I oblige with my first scream of the night. O’Connor smiles.

So begins a tortuous journey featuring a series of grotesque characters and scenarios and a particularly agonising period of feeling my way through complete darkness with only a rope and rusty chain to guide me. While I scream and exclaim, I can hear O’Connor laughing, enjoying every moment.

He’s not the only one who gets a kick out of scaring people. When it comes to the various freaks and creatures who scuttle around or jump out of the shadows, O’Connor says they have one thing in common.

“We usually hold two rounds of auditions; we have returning actors, enthusiasts, scare actors, students. They love scaring people and just want to be a part of this,” he says.

It is obvious a huge effort has gone into the special effects — the lighting (or lack of it) and sound are particularly impressive. However, what is most striking and what sticks with me me long after I have left, is the convincingly foul stench throughout.

O’Connor later informs me that they have seven or eight scents piped throughout the building.

After a strange rabbit-like creature (think Donnie Darko) jumps out at me, I scream and ask O’Connor if anyone has ever required medical attention. He says they do get people who have panic attacks and asks me if I’m okay.

After a particularly grim scenario featuring a seance, O’Connor suggests we take a break before moving down to the next floor.

“The next floor?” I ask, slightly hysterically.

O’Connor laughs, saying, yes, there are three floors. He seems to be extracting far too much pleasure in my pain and I can’t decide whether it’s sadism or him just taking pride in his work. As we move on, there’s the sound of a girl crying somewhere, which I find truly disturbing.

“You’re very brave, I have to say,” says O’Connor at one point, and the acknowledgment that I’m not completely lily-livered is some consolation, as I venture forward into the dank and foul-smelling gloom.

There are barking and howling sounds, and I’m not sure if they are animal or human. Something touches me on the leg and I get really scared. So scared that when we finally come to the end, it turns out that I have completely missed the fact that we have lost one of our ‘party’ to a maniac wielding a baseball bat. Other than that, I’m quite proud of myself for lasting the course.

Ipresume O’Connor is immune to the fear factor by now. Is there anything that scares him?

“I don’t like heights,” he replies. “Something like this doesn’t scare me, I just tend to laugh at it. I enjoy other people getting scared by it.”

O’Connor also likes to witness how people leave down their guard in the throes of terror.

“We hear lots of swearing. People lose their sense of decorum, it’s great to see because you get to see the more human side of people — it’s probably a more natural side,” he says.

He begins to work on halloween events a good six months beforehand.

“We normally start preparing in March. We brainstorm loads of different ideas. The theme has to be big enough to sustain three floors. The whole idea with Hostel is that you have bedrooms, then an abandoned floor, the middle floor, and then the killing area with crazy characters. We finish in October, then go straight into Santa Experience at CityWest. We’re going to do a Scare after Christmas as well. After that, we have a bit of a break, then start building stuff again in March.”

O’Connor is very aware of the importance of the psychological aspect of horror.

“We definitely work on the psychology of that — the dark, how people don’t like touching stuff, unexpected sounds.”

It’s interesting that O’Connor brings up clowns as, after my visit to the Nightmare Realm, the American scary clown phenomenon reaches this side of the Atlantic. O’Connor and the Nightmare Realm get caught up right in the middle of it, when an actor dressed as a clown who is promoting the Dublin event wanders into a school, and controversy ensues.

O’Connor said the event manager for the Nightmare Realm had spoken to school representatives shortly after the incident and apologised for entering the school grounds without permission and for any distress caused to students and staff.

“We have fully investigated the incident and spoken to the staff involved and taken steps to ensure that incidents such as this will not reoccur. I would also like to point out that The Nightmare Realm or any of our promotional staff are in no way linked, as is being suggested in media reports, with the growing ‘crazy clown craze’ which emanated in the US,” he says.

Back at Hostel, we talk about what’s the limit when it comes to scaring people.

“It’s all about what people find entertaining. There’s no point getting to the stage where it’s no longer fun. There’s a fine line between the jokey aspect and people being afraid,” says. n The Nightmare Realm runs until November 5, in Cork and at the RDS in Dublin. www.thenightmarerealm.ie

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