Woman in Black A Review

Broadway and the West End are booming with Musical spectaculars, with all the razzle-dazzle and epic vocal talents and choreography of years of practice and skill. Perhaps off-Broadway is more your scene where you’ll catch a more alternative, ‘Art House’ production with black box stages and smoky voices rasping with contempory beat, or maybe you’ll find your love in more absurdists’ productions of Albee or Pinter?  But where is that genuine horror, edge of your seat, suspense, thrills, sinister atmosphere genre, so loved in cinema and on DVD?  Simple answer – Susan Hill’s ‘Woman in Black’.

It is very difficult to portray ‘Horror’ in front of a live auditorium or replicate all the spooky scenes and special effects that invade and corrode at the imagination while you sleep.  Theatre is bright lights, motion, loud charismatic voices and not associated with the close-up, camera effects of dread and slow motion walking down narrow, defused alleyways.  So can the two ever be united when the normal devices of the genre would be lost on or bore a theatre crowd?

Yes, they can.  Many years ago now, a certain, passion-gripped diva of dramatic arts received the best birthday present a young woman could ever hope for – a trip to the starry streets and hub-bub of London’s West End and like most, she browsed her incredibly slow, dial-up connection for all the ‘big hit’ shows of the time.  ‘The Lion King’ – check, ‘Phantom’ – check but the third choice perplexed as she was still ignorant of anything but the hyped or the classics and on a whim of curiosity bought tickets for ‘Woman in Black’.

The Fortune theatre was a relatively casual affair, smaller, more like a private, personal performance with tea and coffee making facilities and cushioned, comfy couches lining the wings.  The awaiting stage was simple in its design, mainly black-box with a few props scattered around and then the house lights dimmed and an older man stepped hesitantly forward with a big, bound book that Michael Aspel would have nicked for ‘This is Your Life’.  He began to read, jerky and perfunctory in his inflection until a booming, grandiose voice erupted from the back of the stalls to interrupt.  The voice bellowed to ‘the actor’ who was giving performance lessons to this poor sod who was planning a family showing of his journaled memories.

Soon the play unfolds as the viewers realise that they are to be the preview audience for actor and trainee to test their script.  The man becomes much more absorbed in his characters and the actor plays the part of his younger self to tell a tale that must be laid to rest and has haunted its protagonist all his life.

They achieve the visuals of the descriptive tale through sound effects, basic prop representations and the imagination of everyone present.  The language is fluid and beautiful and in the quiet theatre as the two men sit upon a wicker hamper and jostle as if they rode upon a horse and cart, you can clearly picture the eerie sea frets moving sluggishly across the causeway, the noble, old fashioned, mansion house, creaky and groaning with the burdens of the past and the overgrown, shadowy graveyard with mossed head stone.  Even ‘Spider’ the invisible dog can be tracked perfectly by following the actor’s eyes and stroking hands. 

Arthur Kidd is a young solicitor sent into the remote, insular countryside to deal with the estate of a deceased client, Mrs Drablow and is assaulted by wall of silence surrounding the old home and fearful whispers of ghostly tales and omens of death.  Deciding to ignore the provincial superstitions and bar room gossip he ventures out to the premises that is cut off by rising tides during most of the day.  Soon, while delving through reams of unorganised paperwork, he starts to put together the story hidden in the earth and witnesses first hand the foreboding shriek of carriage wheels, screams of broken terror and the infamous apparition of the ‘Woman in Black’.  (Watch out for the, oh I can’t tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise!  But at the end you’ll be asking yourself exactly how good your imagination is?)

There are only two actors in this entire piece and they shift seamlessly in and out of characters to facilitate the plot.  Their performances are exemplary and the use of props, light and scenery are amazing.  There is a far more substantial set than one would first assume and everything else is called clearly upon the inward eye.

Using imagination and suggestion as the core, scare tactics is genius as even on screen, when the monster or villain is revealed, they are never as terrifying as the images your demented brain can conjure and you’re always disappointed.  Not here, the action mounts as does the suspense and the intimacy of the performance literally gives you ‘front row seats’ to the unfolding saga of mystery and madness.

Brilliantly penned, Susan Hill has mastered the art of intrigue and caution and casts a heart-stopping spell over her victims.  The audience is drawn deeply into the story and emotions of the characters like a moth to a flame, so natural and unassuming is the process until you are screaming and rapt in nervous attention.  You would think this book was born for the stage and only realise the extent of its merits when you notice the lack of similar productions and the hardships involved.  This is not just a play but a ticket to a ride on a rollercoaster or ghost train or some extreme sport, thrill adventure that will stay with you for years to come.  Not for the faint hearted nor for the cowardly literal who refuse to engage their mind as well as their eyes but the chill of this atmospheric enchantment remains with that young girl, mentioned above, to this very day and out of her famous choices, ‘Woman in Black’ was the most fulfilling and stimulating show imaginable.