Sometimes, gentle reader, a theatre review will virtually write itself. You sit down at the computer and start tapping away and all your thoughts and insights come spilling out and within ten minutes you’ve filled the equivalent of a sheet of foolscap (yes, I am that old.) And on other occasions, you stare blankly at the screen, then blankly at the programme, then blankly at the hurried notes you made as you walked out of the theatre and think to yourself, Jeez where the hell do I start?! And writing about The Enfield Haunting is such an occasion.

No one, apart from Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder in The Producers, sets about creating a lousy show. In The Enfield Haunting, the component parts are all there. An extraordinary supernatural thriller, based on the real life events of a house in Enfield in the late 1970s where there were reports of unexplained poltergeist activity. Reliable witnesses reported seeing furniture being chucked around, levitations, grisly voices, thrown toys, knocking on walls; all the elements you’d look for in a decent scary paranormal show. There’s a cast led by two stars, Catherine Tate and David Threlfall, both great for Box Office. The creative team boasts experienced set and costume designer and directors, and award-winning lighting and sound designers. When I first heard that this production was going to hit the West End, I was at the front of the queue flourishing my credit card.

But then came the word of mouth from its opening try-outs in Brighton and Richmond in November; almost universal in its criticism of unmitigated boredom, confusion, pointlessness and terrible performances. Surely some mistake? Its original press performance, scheduled for 6^th December, was put back to 10^th January. Its running time has been cut from an original 1 hour 50 minutes, then to 1 hour 40 minutes; the programme states it will last 90 minutes, but the production we saw lasted 75 minutes. There’s clearly been a lot of slicing out of material – in fact, there are some characters listed under Cast in the programme who do not appear in the play, unless I nodded off during their spot. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that it is improved for being shortened; I’d much rather spend 75 minutes getting nowhere than 110.

This was the second time we’d seen a play in 2023 that showed much promise in the adverts but really wasn’t ready for public viewing by the time people were resting their bums on seats – yes, I’m looking at you, The Inquiry. But it is amazing how a talented and hard-working creative team can come together and create something that’s so lifeless, dull and incredibly confusing. Writer Paul Unwin has come up with a kind of Waiting for Poltergeist, but unlike Godot, the poltergeist does turn up every so often. Trouble is no one sees him except us, so we’re left with an unfunny version of the bench sketch in a panto where we shout Behind You! whenever the ghosts appear.

I couldn’t decide whether the writing was deliberately or accidentally confusing; suffice to say, we never really get to the bottom of whether spirit hunter Maurice Grosse is only there because he likes little girls – I can’t imagine what his remaining family and friends must think about the insinuations in the play. There’s also confusion about whether eleven-year-old Janet Hodgson, through whom the poltergeist makes his presence felt, is somehow linked to or a replacement for Grosse’s daughter (also Janet) who (genuinely) died in a motorcycle accident. What’s all that about?

However, it’s not all bad. There are a few nice moments of tension, and a few scenes lighten the mood with occasional humour. The set looks good, and the acting is all perfectly fine (well, nearly all). The role of middle-aged single mum Peggy Hodgson is something Catherine Tate could probably do in her sleep; it doesn’t stretch her in any way, but then again, it doesn’t need to. David Threlfall gives a more interesting performance as Grosse, a balance of kindly curiosity and otherworldly creepiness. Ella Schrey-Yeats is pretty scary as Janet, and Grace Molony is amusing as her challenging teenager sister Margaret, although both actors appear to be way too old to convincingly portray an eleven- and a thirteen-year-old.

My main takeaway from the show was that it simply felt like a great opportunity wasted. It should have been so much scarier, so much either funnier or more savage (depending in which direction you want to take it) and the end should be much more conclusive. It is, clearly, however, hugely better than when it first went on the road; and the moral, should you wish to look for one, is don’t keep the previous dead tenant’s armchair when you move in. Take it to the skip and you can avoid a lot of unpleasantness.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

Two Disappointing For More!