Showing posts with label woman in black. Show all posts
Showing posts with label woman in black. Show all posts

Excerpt from Woman in Black & Video

Posted by Skyeblux

The first packet of letters, bundled together and tied with narrow purple ribbon, were all written in the same hand, between a February of about sixty years beofre and a summer of the following year. They were sent first from the manor house of a villiage I remembered from the map as being some twenty miles away from Crythin Gifford, and later from a lodge in the Scottish countryside beyond Edinburgh. All were addressed to 'My Dear' or 'Dearest Alice' and signed for the most part 'J' but occassionally 'Jennet'. They were short letters, written in a direct, rather naive manner, and the story they told was a touching one and not particularly unfamiliar. The writer, a young woman and apparently a relative of Mrs Drablow, was unmarried and with child. At first, she was still living at home, with her parents: later, she was sent away. Scarcely any mention was made of the child's father, accept for a couple of references to 'P'. 'P will not come back home.' And: 'I think P was sent abroad.' In Scotland, a son was born to her, and she wrote of him at once, with a desperate, clinging affection. For a few months the letters ceased, but when they began again it was at first with desperate outrage and protest, later, in quiet, resigned bitterness. Pressure was being exerted upon her to give up the child for adoption; she refused, saying over and over again that they would 'never be parted'.

'He is mine. Why should I not have what is mine? He shall not go to strangers. I shall kill us both before I let him go.'

Then the tone changed.

'What else can I do? I am quite helpless. If you and M are to have him I shall mind it less.' And again, 'I suppose it must be.'

But at the end of the last letter of all was written in a very small, cramped hand: 'Love him, take care of him as your own. But his is mine, mine, he can never be yours. Oh, forgive me. I think my heart will break. J.'

In the same packet, there was a simple document drawn up by a lawyer, declaring that Nathaniel Pierston, infant son of Jennet Humfrye was become by adoption the child of Morgan Thomas Drblow of Eel Marsh House, Crythin Gifford and of his wife, Alice. Attached to this were three other papers. The first was a reference from a lady M - in Hyde Park Gate - for a nursemaid called Rose Judd.

I had read and set this aside, and was about to open the rest, a single folded sheet, when I looked up suddenly, startled in the present by a noise.

Spider was at the door, growling the same, low growl of the previous night. I looked around at her and saw that her heckles were up. For a moment I sat, too terrified to move. Then I recalled my decision to seek out the ghosts of Eel Marsh House and confront them, for I was sure - or I had been sure, in the hours of daylight - that the harder I ran away from those things, the closer they would come after me and dog my heels, and the greater would be their power to disturb me. And so, I laid the papers, got to my feet and went quickly to open the door of the small parlour in which I'd been sitting ...

WOMAN IN BLACK, THE
Fortune Theatre
by Stephen Mallatratt from the novel by Susan Hill
(07 Jun 1989 - Booking to 17 Dec 2011)

Russell Street, Covent Garden, London, WC2B 5HH

Julian Forsyth and Christopher Naylor in
THE WOMAN IN BLACK
Adapted by Stephen Mallatratt
From the novel by Susan Hill

Directed by Robin Herford
Designed by Michael Holt
Lighting by Kevin Sleep

Unanimously acclaimed by the critics, Stephen Mallatratt's adaptation of Susan Hill's best selling novel combines the power and intensity of live theatre with a cinematic quality inspired by the world of film noir. It is a formula that provides audiences with an evening of unremitting drama as they are transported into a terrifying and ghostly world.

Now in its 21st terrifying year, with over 7 million people have lived to tell the tale of one of the most exciting, gripping and successful theatre events ever staged.

'A TRULY NERVE-SHREDDING EXPERIENCE' - Daily Mail

'DON'T GO UNLESS YOU LIKE BEING SCARED OUT OF YOUR WITS' - Sunday Mirror

'THE MOST BRILLIANTLY EFFECTIVE SPINE CHILLER YOU WILL EVER ENCOUNTER... IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS SHOW YET YOU ARE MISSING A TREAT' - Daily Telegraph



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Woman in Black

Posted by Skyeblux


Intro:~

Woman in Black by Susan Hill has been running now for over 20 years and yet mainstream theatre goers still flock to the hyped and gaudy musicals, neglectful of the best show to ever hit Broadway.  It is a spooky, extravaganza full of atmosphere and chilling acting that seeps deep intot he bones and curdles the imagination.
The amazing story of Arthur Kidd has not gone unnoticed however, as Harry Potter star, Daniel Radcliff won the leading role in a new movie production, to be released in 2012.  The theatre show is undoubtedly superior, no matter what the special effects of screen as the audience is so alive and present, in the thick of the action and dense dry-ice of conjured sea frets, the blinding torch beams and the gentle pressure at the back of your mind that imagines worse than the eye could ever see nor cinematographer replicate.


The Review:~

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.


Showing Now at The Fortune Theatre, London

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