For the past 70 years, the North Korean regime has promulgated juche, the pervasive doctrine of self-reliance. The DPRK has long struggled against foreign occupation, molding into the collective consciousness a deep acrimony towards outside influence while remaining the last frontier of isolationism in the modern world. However, despite its tendency toward seclusion, North Korea has cracked its curtain in recent years, allowing a small yet tightly controlled audience of Western tourists to visit the secretive state. In October 2015, I traveled to the DPRK during the 70th anniversary celebrations of the Worker’s Party of Korea. The government’s pageantry was a lavish affair: a meticulously choreographed performance featuring thousands of goose-stepping soldiers and a legion of military vehicles rolling through Kim Il-sung Square, and then thundering along Pyongyang’s boulevards, thronged on either side by the flag-waving masses. I expected this demonstration of might, showing the world and reassuring the collective that North Korea is strong, its leadership firmly in control. But the DPRK’s theatrics are not limited to such occasions. To make the nation appear prosperous to foreign visitors, North Korea has scripted an elaborate fictional production that never breaks for intermission, every aspect of the visitors’ experience carefully stage-managed, as we ourselves became guest players in this real-life theatrical performance. On the rare occasions we were permitted to marvel upon a garish monument, wander an empty square or gape at an elaborate show, I was always more interested in what was happening stage left or right than in what was taking place at centre stage, much to my minders’ chagrin. These photographs represent my experience as an audience member marveling at the rehearsed mass spectacle that is North Korea, and as a player endeavouring to peak behind the curtain, glimpsing brief and unscripted moments of the Hermit Kingdom’s individual people.