There’s something a little spooky (but not scary) about the 1700 stretch of Church Street NW. Maybe it’s the closed-in nature of the block, bounded by 18th Street on one side and Stead Park on the other. Or its narrowness exacerbated by the old trees that loom overhead. Or the last stone vestige of the original St. Thomas Church, scorched by arson in 1970 and finally rebuilt in 2019. But as dusk turns to dark, it just feels a little … uncanny.
That eeriness makes it the perfect location for The Woman in Black, the late Stephen Mallatratt’s stage adaptation of Susan Hill’s gothic horror novel, running at Keegan Theatre through Nov. 17. In a dual role as director and scenic designer, Josh Sticklin thrillingly brings what was once London’s second-longest-running play to new life.
Mallatratt’s script is skillful in its sustained release of seemingly innocuous details that quickly add up near the play’s end. Compared to other gothic horrors, like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, The Woman in Black doesn’t pose big moral quandaries that inspire deep reflection. Sure, there are questions of loss, regret, and hubris. But the play is first and foremost a ghost story, and its compelling plot and satisfying twists are more than enough to keep a viewer invested. In its relative simplicity, it is refreshingly spooky.
Robert Leembruggen and Noah Mutterperl are markedly different, but complementary, in their performances. Mutterperl energetically commands attention in a way that endears his otherwise arrogant character to the audience. Leembruggen, on the other hand, offers a quieter performance, his misty eyes and tight-lipped hesitation betraying the measured manor with which his mournful character moves through the world. Both performances lead to a deeply satisfying end, as Mutterperl descends into helplessness and haunted terror, and Leembruggen finally finds peace in his vulnerable confession. Well, for a moment, at least.
But the real star of the production is, shockingly, a turntable, which garnered an audience gasp at the performance this reviewer attended. Les Miserables, with its rotating barricade, arguably kicked off an enduring extravaganza of turntables (moveable platforms built into the stage that spin to offer a 360-degree view). You’d now be hard-pressed to find a major musical that doesn’t rely on this old tool (Hadestown and Hamilton among them), but the old trick is often trite; usually a play at showmanship to conceal a lack thereof.
Sticklin, however, makes this literal centerpiece of the stage his production’s most essential element, to exciting effect. Its initial rotation reveals a carousel of cloth-draped set pieces whose regular unmasking goes a long way in building the play’s world (with additional help from Brandon Cook’s clear, clever sound design). But we soon see its real function. The turntable serves as a speedy means for the Woman in Black to appear and vanish in exciting illusions (especially effectively with Sage Green’s strobe lighting). It literally adds momentum to the staging, underscoring the sense that young Kipps is powerless at the hands of the Woman in Black and the remote manor house she haunts. The tool is so engrossing that the tarnished gold proscenium that frames the stage in an attempt to evoke the Victorian theater where the play takes place practically goes unnoticed.
With one exception, Sticklin refrains from the kinds of jump scares horror aficionados may be expecting. And between his direction and Mallatratt’s stylized adaptation, The Woman in Black feels wholly contained and accessible to those of all sensitivity levels. It’s spoo–… well, you know. And that alone makes this Church Street trick a real Halloween treat.
