BroadwayWorld Sydney Guest Critic George Farmakidis Shares his views of Jakob Ahlbom's HORROR.

BroadwayWorld Sydney Guest Critic George Farmakidis Shares his views of Jakob Ahlbom's HORROR.

Wednesday 29th August 2018, 7pm, Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House

Olivia Ansell, Head of Contemporary Performance (Sydney Opera House Presents), astutely says that many of us remember the first time we experienced sheer terror...with classic films like Poltergeist and The Exorcist... This I have to agree with. My very first cinematic experience of any kind occurred at the age of five - I watched Stephen King's Creepshow, tricked by my then thirteen-year-old brother who convinced me that it was simply about a comic book that came to life. Cleverly, he neglected to tell me about the ghoulish vignettes that combined the truly terrifying with the deeply macabre (and the occasionally ridiculous, too), the film succeeding in frightening me back then and keeping me enthralled with the horror genre from that day forth. Unbeknownst to me I had ridden an invisible rollercoaster that simultaneously scared and entertained me, holding up a carnival mirror of sorts that acted as a prism for all the real horrors of the world.

I purposely didn't read anything that would in any way compromise what Swedish theatre maker Jakob Ahlbom had concocted for theatregoers to experience - spoilers in any genre are never appreciated, but they can utterly ruin anything in the horror/thriller/mystery category. Just like my unsuspecting five-year-old self, I wished to have an immersive theatre experience without my pesky, rational brain getting in the way.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder what to expect from a live performance of a genre that typically does not expose itself and its well-known tropes on stage, and certainly not in the esteemed Sydney Opera House: the mere inclusion of HORROR in its line-up indicating that this much-maligned genre is now more than just a guilty pleasure. Terrifying theatre patrons and doing it without eliciting squeals of unintentional laughter is one of the most difficult tasks to execute.

HORROR begins with a traditional thunderclap, introducing the heroine of the piece, who along with her partner and another friend, enter a long abandoned home in the woods. The lights summarily go out and come back on a moment later only to find the girl, who is now on her own, being frightened by the disembodied sound of a baby crying. The lights go out once more and when it returns her eyes are drawn to a long forgotten torture scene at the kitchen table. The lights go off and on again to find a chair sliding on its own across the floor past her feet, leading to the final temporary blackout and the terrifying appearance of a female ghost, who is the epitome of a lost soul and the doppelganger of Samara from The Ring films. When the thunder issues through the theatre to show the original trio entering the house all over again, it becomes clear that this rapid-fire introduction is an ingenious visual preview of the scenes to come.

At first the narrative centres on the girl. It is evident she carries a heavy burden on her shoulders, conveying both comforting familiarity and abject fear at being back at her familial home. Her supportive, yet unprepared boyfriend and their hapless male friend (who immediately smells of comic relief and foil to the coming darker elements of the story), round out the trio.

Immediately it is the lack of any dialogue amongst the performers, juxtaposed with the occasional chiming of bells and orchestral music, along with the eerie tinkling from a long-forgotten music box and old-fashioned music reels that sets the aural tone - the mixing of these disparate, cacophonous sounds with long stretches of silence, succeeds in unnerving the audience, keeping us all off-balance, our attention transfixed to the unfolding narrative onstage and unsure of what will appear next.

Through the use of the television spontaneously turning on, a portrait falling off the wall, a wardrobe creaking open of it's own accord...among other plot devices, a picture begins to form that pits the very real and present danger to the house's current inhabitants with creative and seamless flashbacks to the girl's past, which like breadcrumbs along a path, begins to draw the audience in, enticing them to figure out what horrible goings on were committed long ago under this very roof in an attempt to understand what dangers they are now facing.

Without committing the egregious sin of sharing spoilers, historical scenes of abuse at the hands of puritanical parents plays well against the present spectres that haunt the house. The banter and lightness of the trio as they initially make themselves comfortable in the house, dancing and drinking, gives appropriate lightness before the tone darkens considerably. As the pieces of the bloody jigsaw fall into place the stage is set for the real star of the night to emerge - the ingenious special effects and sleight of hand. Reminiscent of the infamous Grand Guignol plays of the past, the frights, surprises, and yes, gore, keep the eyes moving from corner to corner of the stage, trying to figure out how these effects were possible. Once again, it seemed I had been riding a rollercoaster without realising.

Ahlbom confesses that it's a pastiche of all things horror and heavily influenced by seminal genre works of the past. From the spider walk in The Exorcist, to the sliding chair in Poltergeist and the aforementioned spectre made famous in The Ring, one can't help but reference the works that have so clearly influenced this theatre maker. Alhbom does a fine job of keeping such a multi-referenced piece from seeming too disparate, up until the introduction of a newlywed couple that stumble on the house in the midst of the ensuing terror. With the original trio in various states of distress at this stage, introducing new characters halfway through the play is slightly jarring. The homage of films also changes drastically in tone. The linear ghost story narrative is no longer stringently adhered to, and a more visually arresting, stylistic approach takes over. Hitting the slapstick heights of Evil Dead courtesy of dismembered limbs and evisceration, we're soon in Dario Argento territory, complete with a soundtrack that sounds almost identical to some of the Italian auteur's films - Deep Red and Phenomena, to be precise. Just like the Italian filmmaker, there are certain scenes that make little logical or narrative sense but which are a tour de force of dark spectacle. From what was originally a gothic horror/mystery, it quickly changes in scope to a visually arresting nightmare full of symbology and incredible effects.

Although at times uneven in tone, Jakob Ahlbom's HORROR is an entertaining artistic piece that melds storyline, atmosphere, characterisation and multiple genre references with a fascinating use of lighting, special effects, music and acting by talented performers.

HORROR

29 August - 2 September 2018

https://www.sydneyoperahouse.com/events/whats-on/theatre/2018/horror.html

Photos: Prudence Upton

To post a comment, you must register and login.