At the outset we are in Mousetrap territory. It’s New Year’s Eve. Middle-aged Danny (Tom Chambers) and his much younger girlfriend, Sarah (Laura White) arrive at a remote old farmhouse following a car accident. No one appears to be hurt and the local farmer, the mysterious Mrs Bateman (Susie Blake) has offered them accommodation. But they are 20 miles from the nearest village, there’s no Wi-Fi or mobile signal, a savage dog patrols the yard, and the intermittent electrical supply is prone to sudden explosions and crashes. The house is dark with grimy windows, an outside toilet, uncomfortable furniture, and an antique television set which blurts out spooky nursery rhymes whenever the lighting shorts.

Other dazed survivors of the crash wander in. There’s an ex-wife (Rebecca Charles), an adult son (Jonny Green), an estranged brother (Owen Oakeshott). Gradually we learn that all were on their way home from Danny’s mother’s funeral. There are not enough beds. No one wants to be here, least of all Danny, a no longer famous pop star and alcoholic, desperate for a drink, vainly trying to explain that what others see as a failing is in fact an illness.

The characters’ stories are densely interwoven and not the least of the achievements of Murder in the Dark is that there is none of the tedious explanation that often bedevils thrillers and mysteries. Aspects of the past are revealed through hints, chance words, actions, sounds, so that we are swept into the world of the marooned characters and increasingly into the suffering and paranoia of Danny himself.  

Figures are mentioned or seen in the shadows. Who was the mysterious babysitter? What of the young ballet dancer? Who is Margaret? And what of the sinister Mrs Bateman? Did she really poison her husband? How does she know so much about Danny? Terrible things have happened in the past and it is apparent more terrible things could happen in the future. Questions abound, keeping the audience both intrigued and entertained, though mercifully there is enough humour to dilute the moments of terror.

The dialogue is spare, pushing the action forward through the cleverly wrought plot. The soundtrack by Max Pappenheim plays a crucial role in building and maintaining tension and Simon Kenny’s design plays successfully with the convention of the single claustrophobic set where a mantelpiece can turn into a well, a carpet can become a grave. Director Philip Franks confesses that horror has been his guilty pleasure for longer than he can remember, and we sense that we are in expert hands here. The drama moves apace, sharp performances work on many levels, as the play descends into the deeper and darker landscape of the human psyche.

★★★★☆   Ros Carne  27th September 2023