The House on Cold Hill, Leeds Grand Theatre
The House on Cold Hill at Leeds Grand Theatre. Sadly dispiriting says PHIL KIRBY.
THE PRODUCERS OF THIS SUPERNATURAL THRILLER WOULD VERY MUCH APPRECIATE IT IF AUDIENCES – AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE – COULD PLEASE AVOID GIVING AWAY ANY OF THE PRODUCTION’S SHOCKS AND SURPRISES SO THAT FUTURE AUDIENCES CAN ENJOY THEM. (From the email to reviewers)
I grew up watching Scooby Doo, which I think gave me a thorough education in the finer points of debunking claims of supernatural shocks and surprises. Old houses are spooky; doors creak, the plumbing grumbles and windows rattle. But they aren’t really haunted. There’s no phantoms or ghouls. It’s generally the janitor, covered in an old white sheet, moaning it up, or an accountant wrapped in bandages pretending he’s the undead. All that ectoplasm is just lime jelly. There’s a secret door behind a bookcase that makes things seem to disappear. And it’s always about the money, materialism rather than materialisation. There’s always someone who benefits from a gullibility for ghostliness.
So, I knew before I went to see The House on Cold Hill that I was already in belief deficit as far as the supernatural goes. Whatever suspense was to be had from the play it wasn’t going to be for any ghostly goings on. My disbelief is a big, boisterous, restless beast, and he needs a thick rope to dangle on else it bites – but I love a good tale well told, and I’m happy to go along any paranormal caper if there’s an ingenious plot, characters I can empathise with and motivations I can believe in.
Sadly I left the theatre quite dispirited.
The plot creaked louder than did the superannuated plumbing. There were less plot twists, more plot embarrassed shuffles. And an overreliance on creepy cliche sound effects (the only thing they didn’t do was thunder… or they may have and I’d simply turned off by then.) The only surprise of the evening was when someone almost knocked over a tall vase that was oddly placed by a door that was in constant use – the audience let out an audible gasp as one of the actors expertly rescued the rocking ornament from certain destruction with absolute aplomb (and all credit to him, it was beautifully done.)
And characters… anyone who can buy a 13th Century mansion in a part of the country where the locals are struggling to buy a one bedroom flat isn’t exactly sympathetic to most of us. I was rooting for the ghost. Bring it on.
But the main problem for me was motivation. Let’s say you’ve bought a 13th century pile in the Shires, which unbeknownst to you is haunted by a particularly malevolent spirit bent on murdering your family. When you twig to this fact do you, A. Get the fuck out of there, and back to civilisation, suing the estate agent’s arse! Or, B. Try to get the dimwit local priest – who is barely competent to organise tombola – to perform an exorcism, and then when that fails call upon the expertise of your cleaner and clairvoyant to sort things out? Your cleaner cum clairvoyant being a bit of a dippy, drippy, hippy, who finds it hard to negotiate her way to the kettle to make a cup of tea… Makes sense? Especially as Caro (the wife) is a solicitor… I mean, really? This makes any sense?
For me it was a bit Ghost Bluster.
And just because the ghosts are socially mediated (via Alexa) doesn’t really do it for me.
The House on Cold Hill is on till Saturday 4th May, 2019.
Tickets: leedsgrandtheatre.com or call Box Office on 0844 848 2700.