Review: SO LATE INTO THE NIGHT at Rorschach Theatre

It was a rainy summer in Cologny, Switzerland in 1812, where the gathered literati — including Lord Byron, Percy Bysshe Shelley, John William Polidori, Mary Shelley and her stepsister Claire Clairmont -- tried to amuse themselves in the gloom by creating their own ghost stories.

That it led to two of the enduring figures of Halloween centuries later, Frankenstein and “The Vampyre,” made the doings at the Villa Diodati that summer worth remembering. In the Rorschach Theatre-commissioned  “So Late Into the Night” by Shawn Northrip, the five are also visited by two other unexpected entities through a séance. 

One is an imposing, ancient ghoul who shakes them with projections of their own deaths. The other is a rock band from the future, transformed from the 2025 Sauerkraut festival in Dayton, Ohio, where they're playing a concept album about the literary figures they adore. They’re called The Shelleys, mostly because of Mary Woolstonecraft Shelley, not her ne’er- do-well poet husband and philanderer. 

The conflation leads to, indeed, a long night of reckoning, all to a throbbing rock beat. 

It’s an ambitious endeavor for Northrip, whose previous musicals include an adaptation of “Titus Andronicus” and a reflection of middle school called “Lunch.” But he seems to find an endless array of riffs by which to propel his narrative (the music is directed by Nathan Nichipor).

Rorschach can be counted on for complex, often dark, productions marked by vivid, imaginative visuals. And this work, directed by Jenny McConnell Frederick, is no exception. From the time one walks in the temporary location — an empty, unfinished retail space in a massive modern apartment complex called the Stacks, way off the beaten path south of Audi Field at Buzzaard Point, near the confluence of the Anacostia and Potomac rivers — one is confronted by mood-setting candlelight and spooky video projections (by Kylos Brannon). 

Inside (set design by August Henney), the walls are covered with old portraits, whose frames sometimes light up, covered in lace drapes.

The action is set around a large table where the séance occurs. Five of the chairs are taken by the actors; the 25-or-so other slots are available for audience members who wish to join them there. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll stay a spectator. The audience is never part of the performance,” ticket-holders are promised. And yet, those at the table are told to wear Zorro-like eye-masks and place their hands on the table flat to maintain connections with the spirits. I suppose this can get old over two and a half hours. 

But the séance almost immediately gets results, conjuring up a devilish, horned spirit (Adian Chapman) with the swagger of Ronnie James Dio and ironic demeanor of Nick Kroll. That he sang his initial number opening night with his headset microphone not working showed the power of his pipes (and the smooth transition to get that fixed as the band vamped showed how flexible everyone in the production can be).

Amid the rather lurid, but fact-based back histories of the young writers — involving polyamory, out of wedlock births and deaths and beyond — the ghoul indulges them in informing each of them how and when they’ll die.

Each of these staged demises — involving drownings, suicide and leeches — are given their own songs, which adds as well to the length of the show. 

Of the solid cast, Isabelle Jennings Pickering stands out as Mary, a serious-minded character who looks as if she actually could have written her classic. Maxwell Ross and Paul Pelletier Jr., as Shelley and Byron, are seen as the velvet waist-coated fops they might have been (costumes by Jessica Utz).

Jason Zuckerman stands his ground as a John Polidori, the doctor in the group, who nonetheless came up with the short story “The Vampyre,” from which a whole genre of horror was borne. It’s not an easy task establishing himself among the well-known poets, and doing so on stage is not helped by others alternately calling him John and Pauly. 

Sydney Dionne’s Claire Clairmont, Mary’s sister-in-law, establishes herself as maybe the most human among the five, who is understandably a little dizzy about all the goings-on. She also ends up having one of the strongest voices to front the band.

It’s Lydia Gifford who leads this time-traveling rock band, and in addition to commanding and supple vocals, she plays keyboards and accordion as needed. Veronica Rose Bundy’s guitar is not always audible but she’s a vivid presence with a good theatrical turn at one point as a dismissed ex of Shelley. 

Of the others in the band, Dani Ray mostly stays behind the drums, but bassist Billy Bob Bonson, dominant in the sound, also seems to employ the worst kind of “Simpsons”-derived comic voice in his brief spoken lines. 

Audience members are offered earplugs upon entry, though the band is never loud enough to require them. The sound is so muddled, though, it’s impossible to hear any lyrics of the louder songs, such that any exposition in them is lost. Things improve during slower songs, or when singers are accompanied by only one instrument, allowing lyrics to be understood.

The lights (by Dean Leong) are their own problem. With bright lights blazing on both sides of the table, it’s a sure thing people will be blinded no matter where they sit. 

Surprisingly, the most effective moments of horror are provided by eerie dolls representing lost children (props design by Mason Dennis). 

Mostly, “So Late Into the Night” celebrates an important literary moment among key writers of their era, whose creations continue to animate our Halloween revels. But packing every back story and future fate of the characters is indeed what pushes the ambitious musical so late into the night. 

Running time: Two and a half hours, with one 15-minute intermission.

Ptoto credit: Adian Chapman and the cast of “So Late Into the Night” at Rorschach Theatre. Photo by DJ Corey Photography.