Review: CREATURE, Colab
One audience member. One wheelchair. One creature. Peter Broughton's Frankenstein won't let you look away.
Yes, yes: ask the average person about Frankenstein and they will speak at length about the book and the films but, if it wasn't for the theatrical adaptations, Mary Shelley's gothic classic would arguably just be collecting dust in your local library.
Designed for a single audience member moved around in a wheelchair, Peter Broughton's visceral Creature arrives as the latest in a long line of stage endeavours that dig into the monster's mythos. That line started with Richard Brinsley Peake's Presumption; or, the Fate of Frankenstein which opened in the summer of 1823, five years after the book was published. Held at the English Opera House (on the site of what is now the Lyceum, home of The Lion King), the three-act play was a heady mix of songs and pantomime.
It was Peake — not Shelley, and certainly not Hollywood — who bestowed upon Victor Frankenstein the immortal line "It lives!", said as his mute, blue-hued terror listed in the playbill simply as "---" rose from the laboratory table. Such was the success of Presumption that, within less than a month, Mary's father rushed a new two-volume edition of the novel to print; while Frankenstein was originally published anonymously, this time around the book included its author's name on the title page.
Meanwhile, the Royal Coburg Theatre (today's Old Vic) countered with Henry M. Milner's rival melodrama, Frankenstein; or, The Demon of Switzerland. London was gripped that year alone by no fewer than five outings about Shelley's creation. After half a decade, and in no small way thanks to Peake, Mary went from nameless to famous.
And the work still fascinates in the 21st century. Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller alternated nightly in 2011 between the scientist and his experiment for The National Theatre while, 200 years after Peake's seminal show, Midnight Circle took over an East London church's crypt for their own promenade take. While those covered the well-worn narrative from beginning to end, Broughton's Creature dives into the crux of a key conflict between creator and creation.
This compact show focuses on one of the book's most violent episodes: after asking for and then being denied a mate by Victor, the monster wreaks bloody vengeance. We witness the terrible events not from behind a fourtrh wall and the comfort of a stalls seat but from Dr Frankenstein's point of view: sat in a wheelchair and moved around a small room, witnessing the mounting carnage as those he loves pay the price for his decision. Headphones make sure we are lured into the storyline long before the inevitable cries and screams are transmitted in painful detail. It's a front row seat for twenty minutes of precisely executed horror that assaults the senses at every turn.
It's all delivered with a keen thoughtfulness. It starts outside the room as, with quiet menace, the doorman (Puck Wyse) deploys his sideshow skills and unsettling manner to introduce the show's themes of choices and consequences. If immersive theatre has only one job, it is to transport its audience to another place and time, and Wyse's charismatic turn propels us away from a grimy South London street into the gothic interior of Frankenstein's dark manor.
Once inside, the creeping horror seeps in from all angles. Closing your eyes is no escape from the beckoning madness once the headphones are in place. Hanna Gardner's brain-spinning soundscape of white noise, snarls, grunts and audio oddities adds to the discombobulating sights presented inches from one's nose. Even without the full effect of the binaural technology (as used recently in Jamie Armitage's A Ghost In Your Ear), there's a voyeuristic vibe as we listen into the intense conversation between the doctor and the monster; it ends with the creature's chilling mic-drop of a warning: "I shall see you on your wedding-night!"
A gas-masked Igor (Jessica Southwood) expertly manoeuvres the wheelchair around the space: a strong tug here, a wilful push there, swivel, swivel, swivel. Torches are wielded and shone into our eyes, a jolting technique that in this dark space is as physically effective as it is cost-effective. The also-masked five-strong cast (including Alice Elsie Thomas and Elena Sirett) are never far away. Every scene is a punchy vignette with an impact that belies the show's DIY aesthetic. The direction is snappy and lively. Life comes at you fast; Creature comes at you faster.
Broughton's love of puppetry is apparent throughout. When he finally comes into sight, the gruesome monster (made by Broughton and Audrey Rodriguez) arrives full-sized and face on, no chance to look away before it dominates the view and demands our attention. A smaller creation arrives at the finale to add a darkly comic musical touch. And, as they are wildly pivoted around in Southwood's safe hands, the audience member is ultimately the biggest puppet of all.
Solo-audience shows are the jewels of the theatre world — and not just because they usually command a high ticket price. In 2023's Second Woman at the Old Vic, Ruth Wilson performed a seven-minute scene opposite a hundred separate men over a period of 24 hours; Hollywood stars like Andrew Scott, Idris Elba, and Ben Whishaw mingled with volunteers as Wilson broke up with them one after the other.
Theatre For One at the Barbican earlie this year was also a tête-à-tête experience while Deadweight's supremely eerie Mannikins deployed a pair of actors for their mind-bending drama. Creature's comparatively large cast produces a very different effect from these examples, enveloping the guest in a wholly absorbing world.
This ambitious work hits hard in unexpected places even for those more familiar with the bolt-through-the-neck interpretation of the monster than Shelley's original portrayal. It feels a little rough around the edges in places and, combined with the short duration, there's a sensation of a work in progress.
Victor needed lightning. Peake needed a stage. Broughton needs a wheelchair, five masked cast members, and twenty minutes of your undivided attention to conjure up something just as galvanising. Even if it isn't finished quite yet, his creation lives.
Photo credit: Peter Broughton
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