THE DEAD, LIVE

Carly Tarett & Howard Whittock

Theatre Review

Written by Daniel Thackeray

Directed by Alex Shepley

The Met, Bury

Reviewed on 13^th July

Review by Brian Gorman

4 stars

Lawrence Dodds is a run-of-the mill stage medium, a mix of Peter Falk's crumpled detective Columbo, and Ken Stott's down-at-heel Inspector Rebus. Dodds seems to be a dead man walking, a guy at the fag end of his career, and lacking the starry charisma (shallow though it is) of a Derek Acorah. In a perfectly-pitched opening scene, we find Dodds downing more than his fair share of cheap whiskey, whilst schooling nervous new assistant Rachael Connor (Carly Tarett) in the dark arts of audience exploitation. We are told everything we need to know about this amoral charlatan. He's a complete fraud; and he appears to have no shame about it. Using simple word play, Trump-esque self confidence, and NLP (Neuro Linguistic Programming) – owing a debt of gratitude to the likes of Derren Brown, Penn & Teller, et al, he elicits crucial snippets of personal information from audience members, and makes them believe he is actually channelling deceased relatives. Rachael duly plays her part, pretending to be an innocent punter, but the evening takes a very dark turn when an unexpected (and, as we discover, rather unwelcome) guest threatens to humiliate Dodds, and uncover the spiritual shennanigans. 

Lawrence Dodds  (Howard Whittock)

With only two actors on stage, this is a tight, atmospheric, and unsettling piece, which utilises the minimum of props and stage set to maximum effect. As the story takes place in a theatre (on this occasion, the lovely new 'Box' studio at The Met, in Bury), and part of the action has Dodds inter-acting with members of the (real) audience, we are sucked gently, and efectively, into the unquiet world of writer Daniel Thackeray. Chilling sound effects, effective use of complete blackouts in the confined space, and a quite terrifying, yet simple, onstage ghost effect makes for a nervy evening for those of a delicate disposition. Howard Whittock plays Dodds with the distracted air of a man barely conscious of the physical world around him. He is disturbingly placid, and distinctly unmoved by the emotional and spiritual wounds he is delicately fingering. Carly Tarett grounds the piece, with a realistic and wholly sympathetic performance as the callow young Rachael, who grows a backbone when things begin to fall apart. Anne Baron plays a third, rather chilling and unsettling, character in the play, but I won't spoil anything by saying any more!

Writer Daniel Thackeray with actor Howard Whittock

Thackeray channels the great Nigel Kneale (creator of tv's 'Quatermass', and cult classics 'The Stone Tape' and 'The Year Of The Sex Olympics') in his sparse, unshowy script. The dialogue is lean, crisp, on the nose, and sharply effective. Alex Shepley's directing avoids the pitfalls of trying too hard to scare her audience, and wisely allows the actors to inhabit their respective characters, and let the story gradually unwind to its chilling conclusion. The scares are subtle, and the atmosphere grows naturally, rather than being delivered fully-formed. This is a hugely enjoyable piece, which certainly leaves the audience hungry for more. My main quibble with the production is the short running time (just under an hour), and the fact that things end rather abruptly. However, one shouldn't really complain too much, as there are far too many shows that shamelessly outstay their welcome. Scytheplays' 'The Dead, Live' is short and sweet, but delivers a heck of a sting.