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.
