{"id":1611,"date":"2018-12-21T16:46:02","date_gmt":"2018-12-21T16:46:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/?p=1611"},"modified":"2018-12-21T16:46:11","modified_gmt":"2018-12-21T16:46:11","slug":"the-tell-tale-horror-of-christmas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/2018\/12\/the-tell-tale-horror-of-christmas.html","title":{"rendered":"The Tell-Tale Horror of Christmas"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"
David Carlyle and Tamara Lawrence (photo Manuel Harlan)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Non-Brits find it hard to believe, but in addition to the tree, holly, mistletoe, turkey, plum pudding, watching the Queen\u2019s speech and drinking far too much, ghost stories are a part of (at least) English Christmas traditions, as much as the pantomime. If this startles you, just think of the spectres in Dickens\u2019 1843 A Christmas Carol<\/em>, which had plenty of antecedents in Gothic literature.  Nowadays, however, British Christmas entertainment revolves around the telly \u2013 though the more energetic also visit the cinema.  Recent Christmas films hark back to the ghost story tradition, though they tend to lean towards the horror or Gothic categories of the genre. (There was an hour-long disquisition on Christmas films only last night by Mark Kermode on BBC4, which is still available on BBC I-Player.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

         The theatre, I\nthink (but am not certain) has been exempt from this trend. Most theatre-goers\nat this time of year favour the pantomime, or plays suitable for children, such\nas the NT\u2019s Wind in the Willows<\/em> or Treasure Island<\/em>. This Christmas,\nhowever, in the NT\u2019s renamed Dorfman Theatre, there is a new play by Anthony\nNeilson, with enough Kensington Gore (stage blood), to qualify as an item for\nthe Knowledge (the compulsory examination taken by London black cab drivers). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

         The Tell-Tale Heart<\/em>, based on the (very)\nshort story by Edgar Allan Poe, is not one for the kids, I\u2019d think. Mind you, I\ntook one of mine, but she\u2019s a thirty-something, so it probably doesn\u2019t count;\nand she was not as enthusiastic as I was about the repeated coups de th\u00e9\u00e2tre<\/em>, some of which were the sort of frightening that\nmakes you laugh nervously in self-defence. This is the play that keeps giving \u2013\nit certainly does not end when the audience thinks it\u2019s all over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

         I\u2019ve been following\nthe playwright since I wrote a profile of a young Neilson for the Wall Street Journal<\/em> many, many years ago.\nHis method of working entails also directing, as he does here, for he devises and\nrefines the script during rehearsals; meaning that the actors play an unusual double\nrole, contributing to the script as well as performing it. There is such a lot\nof last-minute revision that the text is not yet in print (which limits my\nreviewing powers, as I don\u2019t have shorthand \u2013  and don\u2019t take notes, as I can\u2019t read my own\nwriting even if done in daylight). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

         I think Neilson\u2019s\nmode of working must be the reason the three actors in this piece are so very\ngood (a judgment shared by all my colleagues whose reviews have so far\nappeared) \u2013 they own bits of the play. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

         The 1843 Poe\nstory (there\u2019s a coincidence!) is the distressing tale of the nervous, perhaps\nmad, first-person narrator, who, repulsed by his landlord\u2019s \u201ceye of a vulture \u2013\na pale blue eye, with a film over it\u201d determines to kill him, though \u201cI loved\nthe old man.\u201d The deed done, the body is dismembered and hidden under the\nfloor-boards of the lodger\u2019s room. There he is visited by the police, who \u201cwere\nsatisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was thoroughly at ease.\u201d  His complacence is shattered, however, by an\nincessant noise, the beating of the victim\u2019s \u201chideous heart\u201d from under the\nfloor; and he confesses to the three investigating policemen, who apparently\ncould not hear the noise. He raves that it wasn\u2019t possible they hadn\u2019t heard,\nthat their pleasant chat and smiles \u201cwere making a mockery of my horror!…I\ncould bear those hypocritical smiles no longer!\u201d So he directs them to the\nloose floorboards, and seals his now desired doom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
The floorboards
(photo Manuel Harlan)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

         Neilson hews\nclosely to the original, using actors \u2013 though the number of characters they\ndepict is (purposely) unclear. The play is held together by \u201cThe Writer,\u201d\nplayed by Tamara Lawrance; she is \u201cCeleste,\u201d a blocked playwright, who has\nrefused a Tony-ish award for her first play on ideological grounds. This\noccasions the play\u2019s best line, \u201cJudi Dench called me a hypocrite\u201d (for\nrefusing the prize), with its Poe-ish reverberations. But her coke-snorting,\nvodka-swigging, bisexual character is sometimes called \u201cCamille\u201d \u2013 implying \u2013\nwhat? \u2013 a split personality? Or that she, Celeste, is acting in a drama in which\nshe is Camille? Though I sometimes felt that she (and the two other actors) could\nhave projected their voices more strongly (and we were in row H), Ms Lawrance\u2019s\nbody-language and large repertory of facial expressions were superb; and big\ncongratulations to the NT for casting a black woman in a role for which this is\nutterly irrelevant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Imogen Doel (The Landlady) with her mask, Tamara Lawrance (The Writer) and the ancient typewriter (photo Manuel Harlan)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

         As the \u201cThe\nLandlady,\u201d Imogen Doel, called \u201cNora,\u201d is the almost willing victim, disfigured\nat birth, who wears a Phantom-of-the-Opera mask to conceal it, and has fallen\nin love with her lodger.  The most puzzling\ncast member is \u201cThe Detective,\u201d played (mostly) charmingly by David Carlyle,\nwith a Scottish accent that is sometimes difficult for a non-Scot to get your\near around. Though dressed identically, he is sometimes a gruff, forty-something\ncop, and sometimes a younger policeman: a camp, flouncing, wannabee singer in\nmusicals (for which he demonstrates at length his tuneless lack of aptitude).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

         He is perhaps\ntwo characters \u2013 or maybe the gay detective is Celeste\/Camille\u2019s fantasy? In\nany case there are actors in this drama who are not in the cast \u2013 the designer,\nFrancis O\u2019Connor, whose studio\/bedsit set, with its giant, storey-high,\nnorth-facing window, contains not much more than a bed, an ancient typewriter\nand a dumbwaiter, all of which plays their parts in the performance, as, with\nthe intention of being disgusting, does the adjacent lavatory. (Coprophobics\nshould probably avoid this show.) Also part of the action is the sometimes scary\nlighting by Nigel Edwards, the music and sound design by Nick Powell, and the\nall-important video design by Andrzej Goulding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

         As you\u2019ll\nprobably have gathered,  though it\u2019s wondrously\nstaged,  The Tell-Tale Heart<\/em> is the kind of horror show that not only intends\nto shock, but also to make the audience feel frightened, queasy, repulsed, and disgusted,\nas it peals with (slightly high-pitched) laughter. And I don\u2019t think this piece\ncontains a single spoiler. So go see for yourself.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Non-Brits find it hard to believe, but in addition to the tree, holly, mistletoe, turkey, plum pudding, watching the Queen\u2019s speech and drinking far too much, ghost stories are a part of (at least) English Christmas traditions, as much as the pantomime. If this startles you, just think of the spectres in Dickens\u2019 1843 A […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[35,36,1],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-1611","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-blogroll-2","7":"category-elsewhere","8":"category-uncategorized","9":"entry","10":"has-post-thumbnail"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbv6zV-pZ","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1611","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1611"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1611\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1616,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1611\/revisions\/1616"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1611"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1611"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/plainenglish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1611"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}