JADAR

★★★☆☆

First performed in 1987 before its London transfer in 1989, The Woman in Black became one of the longest running non-musical West End productions, performing over an astonishing 33 years before its closure in 2023. Stephen Mallatratt’s spine-tingling and crafty adaptation of Susan Hill’s 1983 novel is oozing with tension and mystery, despite sometimes lacking the bite of true horror.

Michael Holt’s set is simplistic yet chillingly effective with a gauze draped backdrop (and an eerie person-sized hole), framed by a dingy brick wall and an old wooden framed door casing. Sheet-covered furniture, a wooden chair, a wicker basket and a collection of old buckets make up the sparse theatre, while the angular floor allows for engaging shadow casting and projection effects. The gauze acts as a thin veil separating the sets of the theatre (and the imagined) Eel Marsh Manor, soft lighting illuminating the space to showcase changing scenery; from covered furniture and an eerie staircase to a gently glowing cross, and an enchanting nursery.

Kevin Sleep’s ominous lighting design oscillates between harsh theatre lights and unsettling cool glows. The audience are often plummeted into darkness, hurriedly searching the stage for any semblance of light or any flicker of the haunting figure. Contrasting warm lights are used to create a false sense of security; a desperate clinging to some homely sensation in the most isolated and mist-coated location. Focused beams hone into locked doors creating terrifying corridors of light, while candle flickers, lanterns and flashlights penetrate the dismal void.

One thing to note, while I always applaud a show for being accessible, perhaps a dimmer light could have been used, or more creative inclusion of the sign language interpreter to preserve the magic of the dark scenes yet still remain inclusive.

Holt’s adaptions take some theatrical liberties, choosing to have Arthur (John Mackay) employ an actor (Daniel Burke) to recount the tale, hoping to exorcise the ghostly visions of The Woman in Black from his life, while the original book serves as Arthur’s manuscript itself. It’s perhaps an unnecessary addition to the tale, but it does create some interesting parallels and interactions.

Act one builds from a simple speech into a fully-fledged performance with brief asides as themselves before moving back into character. Act two finishes the performance, before moving back into its performative “reality” at the theatre where the worlds merge. It’s a nice twist and amusingly meta with its play within a play structure, if not a tad pretentious and self-excusing at times. The ending is equally intriguing, pulling together both sides of the performance and neatly foreshadowed by the actor’s presumptive nature.

The audience are instructed the performance will require imagination, relying on ‘old’ theatre tricks, recorded sounds, physical movement, costume changes, and imaginary creatures. For the most part, the imagination is stirred by gripping monologues, descriptive passages, playful physicality, and the aforementioned immersive lighting, however, the invisible dog is a step too far.

Despite the many characters, the show is a two-man performance, with Arthur Kipps employing an actor to recount the tale from his perspective, while Arthur plays the slew of secondary characters. Burke’s authoritative ring and jovial swagger make for an intriguing character, one perhaps too oblivious and chipper for his own good. His scenes acting as Arthur within the rehearsal starts witty before delving into an authentic sense of nervousness and dread, realistic screams and shaking hands at the ready. Mackay’s Arthur is down-trodden and fearful, emitting a genuine sense of dread in each line. Narratively, Arthur takes a little too quickly to the performance, yet Mackay’s multi-rolling was so entertaining and seamless that its easy to excuse. He flittered between various accents and physiques, added mannerisms and changed costumes in the blink of an eye, successfully embodying a varied set of believable characters.

Their chemistry is a blend of reluctancy and mischief, the actor playfully mocking Arthur’s nervous disposition and initially clunky line delivery as a newcomer to theatre and public speaking. As Arthur warms up to the actor and their roles in the rehearsal, there’s a warm appreciative tone, despite his melancholic expressions.

Rob Mead and Sebastian Frost’s sound contributions enliven the show with creaking chairs, clopping horse hooves, bustling pub-goers, humming train carriages, and loud shrieking jumpscares. While some scares feel a little cheap, I did appreciate the brief relief in tension they created. Other times, the scares were genuinely crafty, seeing shadowy glimpses accompanied by cawing crows or fearful silence. The quieter speech draws you in to each fearful phrase, every creaking floor and gentle thud, flitting candle and elongated shadow becomes a potential threat, culminating in a palpable sense of dread. Some of this fear is lost in a theatre setting, surrounded by rustling sweet packets, popping soda cans, and the occasional microphone static issue, but it remains entrancing for the most part.

My main issue with the show is its over-reliance on seeing the titular Woman In Black. We have the memorable church scene that shrouds her in darkness, Arthur being the only one to see her face and shrieking with horror at her dishevelled and shrunken appearance while the audience are left to wonder. Great horror relies on our fear of the unknown… the constant dread surrounding something so intangible and incomprehensible. The unknown thuds from the locked door, the hooded woman, the insidious flickers of human silhouettes constantly excite our imagination. However, the audience are shown the Woman in Black so frequently and clearly within the first act that a lot of that fear loses its momentum. The image of the woman, clearly lit and growling in the actor’s face made me audibly giggle, as she was transformed from other-worldly horror to spooky old lady. Perhaps keeping her face veiled, or showing more fleeting glimpses would maintain this illusion more effectively.

Additionally, a lot of the horror felt rather self-contained to the actors of the show, since her interactions are all clearly signposted and on-stage. I’d have loved some more creative scares and illusions, having her sculk from the stalls or a balcony door, looming in the background as an unclear shadow, or bringing back the aisle scare (although I appreciate that may not be feasible for a touring production).

Ultimately, The Woman in Black is a masterclass in tension but falls short of reclaiming its title as a true horror spectacular. Its thought-provoking story, eerie dilapidated set and foreboding lighting design create a menacing atmosphere, but the tour lacks the immersion and creative ingenuity often adulated in its West End predecessor. Some clunky execution holds it back, but few other shows offer such a uniquely ghoulish experience.

The Woman in Black runs at Storyhouse until September 27 2025 and tours the UK until April 18 2025.

Photo: Mark Douet