Ian Jackson

Laugh Cues, Mark, Spooks, And John | Mark Jenkins and John Wright re-enact a macabre tale in The Woman in Black.

THE WOMAN IN BLACK
Directed by Marianne Copithorne. Written by Stephen Mallatratt, adapted from the book by Susan Hill. Starring John Wright, Mark Jenkins. The Roxy (10708-124 St). Tickets available through The Roxy box office (453-2440).
***

“Yes, I had a story, a true story, a story of haunting and evil, fear and confusion, horror and tragedy. But it was not a story to be told around the fireside.” Fireside or not, so begins Theatre Network’s chill-a-minute new show The Woman in Black, a perfect English ghost story for a chilled October night.

It doesn’t get creepier than this: an empty Victorian mansion near an isolated bog, a recently dead recluse, a less-recently dead child, rumours of strange occurrences, and the poor, luckless London solicitor who’s sent in to clear up the paperwork. The Woman in Black has all the ingredients of a supernatural thriller to induce screams and nightmares in all who see it. Adapted from the novel by Susan Hill, the show flows at a stately pace, well befitting its language and theme. Despite a narrative that sounds ... well, rather like narration, there are numerous well-paced laughs to help break the building tension.

The venerable John Wright plays Arthur Kipps, an older gentleman who is haunted by a dark story from his past. In order to exorcise the horror he experienced at Eel Marsh House in his younger days, he has brought his story to an actor, played by Mark Jenkins, to be played out onstage. Jenkins, as the actor, takes on the role of the younger Mr. Kipps, and Wright, as the elder Kipps, plays a wide variety of roles to support the retelling of his own story. The play-within-a-play works well and is a clever convention to keep an epic cast of characters to a producible size.

And this production is a lot of fun: it’s tense and full of sudden, scream-worthy moments, with Wright and Jenkins guiding the audience through a haunted house ride full of black apparitions and fog, while the soundscape of menacing bass and nightmare screams (courtesy of Dave Clarke) is enough to keep even the most stalwart soul on the proverbial edge of their seat.

But despite this terrific (in all senses of the word) sense of mood and well-paced tension, the play has its share of disappointments. Most notable is Jenkins, who, with his sloppy and inconsistent English dialect and Alberta-boy demeanour, is an odd casting choice. Once you get past the dialect — if you can get past it — Jenkins still performs with his usual likeability, but unlike his work in last year’s excellent Buddy, here he does not shine. And John Wright — how can you possibly criticize John Wright? — feels almost too smooth and is lacking spontaneity in his largely narrative-driven roles.

But all that said, the show is still good. And the acting is good too. Good, not great, which is something of a disappointment given the very high calibre of the performers involved. Kudos go to designer Paul Bezaire for his terrifically eerie set, and to Cory Sincennes for great, atmospheric lighting that both hides and reveals terrifying moments for the screaming audience’s enjoyment.

And scream they do. To the young lady who sat behind me — I hope your voice recovers faster than my eardrums did.