Review: 'The Woman in Black'

By James Metcalf

The Woman in Black is, by now, a piece of familiarity to most people. Whether as a novel, play, or film, many of us have experienced the terror first hand (or at least been told about it by a wide-eyed friend), but not even that will prepare you for the production by Robin Herford at York’s Theatre Royal.

The play begins on the well-trodden boards of an empty stage, with a single figure reading from a manuscript in a frightened, mouse-like voice. He is interrupted by a much younger man, who condescends to give the man advice on projection and energy (‘for the sake of his audience’). I won’t give it all away, but these early scenes are humorous and light, which serves only to break down any defences you might have built against the terror you are sure to experience later on. They each play out the story of Gothic melancholy, taking on the roles of peripheral characters, until the one figure they could not draw upon by themselves is re-awakened for the audience.

There were screams a-plenty, rest assured, yet the performances of Julian Forsyth, who played Arthur Kipps, and Antony Eden, who played the gentleman acting the part of the lawyer in his youth, did not suffer for this. They were clearly so used to it, as their delivery did not break for an instant. Every time the wasted face of the woman in black appeared, or the repetitive and unnerving rhythm of the rocking chair took hold, shrieks could be heard throughout the theatre, but their faces were immovable; as though they really were in Eel Marsh House.

What was perhaps more unnerving than this supposed tranquillity or the very presence of the woman herself, was the sound effects, designed by Gareth Owen. His rocking chair, music box, pony and trap, and, of course, the scream of the dying child in the marsh, were ever present and unpredictable, to the extent that the audience did not want to turn around, lest the woman be there, her face looming above their heads. And Kevin Sleep’s lighting was simple yet effective in its creation of the shade cast by branches, and the moon through an open window, which, when added to the sound and the incredibly dynamic set design, courtesy of Michael Holt, altered the experience immeasurably. The three-dimensional staging, partitioned by a gauze curtain and a staircase, and the eerie atmosphere created by a twilit stage and sporadically sudden creaking transformed a horror movie into a dramatic, theatrical experience that belongs within touching distance.

Brilliant acting, staging, and direction aside, the adaptation of a relatively short novel (by Susan Hill) for the stage by Stephen Mallatratt is a work of no small genius. His way of setting up the play as a piece of theatre in itself seemed to ask a little too much to ask of the audience; yet the leap was not all that far. In fact, once the exposition had taken place, the audience accepted the new premise and promptly forgot about it, becoming embroiled in the drama and spectacle of an expertly enacted performance. As Forsyth and Eden intermittently narrated each scene when necessary, alternately leaving the rest to the audience’s imagination, there was never a moment in which we were lost or confused; in fact, the play was so easy to understand that I personally felt present in the marshes just outside the small, haunted township of isolated Crythin Gifford.

Whether you’ve read the novel or seen the film, or even if you’ve seen the play before, Herford’s production of The Woman in Black is something to see. The acting is immediately engaging, the performers are instantly likeable, and the sound, lighting, and staging are so expertly practised, they are made to look easy. In the tremendously impressive setting of the Theatre Royal, this is an experience that is immediately successful, being both exactly what you’d expect, as well as an awful lot more besides.