Review: A Morte do Corvo by Nuno Moreira

Hannah Jagoe reports back on the final three performances of Nuno Moreira's 'A Morte do Corvo', which just concluded its run at Lisbon's Hospital Militar da Estrela.

Photo: A Morte do Corvo

A Morte do Corvo, Lisbon’s grand necromantic immersive show, died last month after an impressive three-year run. The cause of death in this case was entirely natural: after several extensions, the production finally announced that the end was nigh.

It was this bleak prognosis that finally inspired me to make the trip to Lisbon and see the show for the first time by attending its final three performances. Why was its passing worth attention? Because A Morte do Corvo was not simply a successful large-scale production, something increasingly rare these days when even established companies struggle to break even, but part of the emergence of a Portuguese immersive theatre scene that traces its beginnings to Nuno Moreira’s previous show, E Morreram Felizes Para Sempre (2015).

The show’s clear Punchdrunk lineage was evident in its structure: masked audience members moved through the space following character loops like ghosts, only occasionally being acknowledged in public interactions or one-to-ones. Like Punchdrunk’s work, the story was largely dialogue-free and instead conveyed through movement, hidden documents, and set details.

Photo: A Morte do Corvo

Where Punchdrunk might employ extravagant acrobatic dance numbers, A Morte do Corvo relied instead on simpler, more stylised movement. That gave the show a darker, more grounded quality, though it also meant the production lacked some of the wild crescendos and raw spectacle of Punchdrunk at its best.

The Portuguese character of the story was most evident in its plot, which revolved mainly around a fictional rivalry between Edgar Allan Poe and Fernando Pessoa, one of Portugal’s most important literary figures. In the show, the two were members of the mysterious necromantic cult, the Order of the Raven. Driven by jealousy, Poe bribes, blackmails, and deceives the other characters into betraying and abandoning Pessoa, leading to his death.

If the story were a chess match, all the pieces were being moved by Poe around a largely oblivious Pessoa. This imbalance may have detracted from the tension, but not from the tragedy or the force of the performances. Henrique Gomes brought a mad, sinister intensity to Poe, while Celso Pedro played an almost otherworldly Pessoa.

Photo: A Morte do Corvo

The old Hospital Militar da Estrela was as much a character in the show as any of its performers. Glossy red corridors flickered with torchlight. Stunning marble bannisters and imposing iron gates dominated the space. While some connecting spaces remained fairly liminal, other areas of the set felt richly lived-in and purposeful. Highlights for me were the Green Fairy, a beautifully constructed speakeasy full of 1920s opulence, and the winding, tree-lined forest.

Character rooms were filled with details for fans to discover, from chess pieces hidden throughout the space to arcane documents and clues. The lighting design was also particularly remarkable: invisible flocks of ravens were effectively conjured as candelabras flickered and jerked to the sound of their cries.

Photo: A Morte do Corvo

The show was particularly insightful on the voyeuristic nature of immersive theatre. To see some of the more explicit scenes, audience members had to slide into a narrow gap and huddle around slits cut into fabric-covered walls, peering into a horse box. An unsuspecting audience member was then pulled into this scene and trapped with a gyrating, sinister conspirator, suddenly transformed from voyeur into spectacle.

Other line-blurring public interactions were especially novel and bold. Pessoa spooning an audience member in bed while whispering poetry to them was intense and poignant. By contrast, the private one-to-ones were more variable, ranging from the stunningly designed and executed encounter with Poe to interactions that felt like vague busywork, included more to appease completionists than to offer real insight into the inner lives of the characters. Still, those weaker moments did little to diminish the overall mood and ambition of this show.

Photo: A Morte do Corvo

A Morte do Corvo, as we knew it, may now be dead, but the final three shows attracted devoted mourners from many different countries across Europe, and perhaps most importantly, the production left behind a new generation of Portuguese immersive theatre fans, many of whom excitedly told me this was their first brush with immersive theatre.

The show is survived, in part, by House of Neverless, a new company involving many of the original creatives and continuing to create work out of the same space. This has left me hopeful that some strange new show might soon have us flocking back to Portugal.

★★★★

Words: Hannah Jagoe

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A Morte do Corvo ran at Hospital Militar da Estrela in Lisbon. The show closed on 28th March 2026. For more information about the show, visit amortedocorvo.com