Patricia Allison, Victoria Smurfit and Callum Scott Howells in Ghosts at the Lyric Hammersmith. Photo Credit Helen Murray.What once existed as the fusty didactic parable, a syphilitic tale embodying the sins of the father vested in the son, has through Gary Owen’s reimagined script, metamorphosed into a modern exploration of what it means to be the children of flawed and guilt-ridden parents who neither knew nor fully comprehended the potential repercussions of the choices made as their younger selves. This is Ibsen for the modern age. An age in which everyone is made to assume guilt for mistakes, rushed choices, flawed decisions and generally for being a human being. It is a truly fascinating watch from the get-go, filled with traps waiting to snare their victims.
We’re in a foggy Cornish backwater where Helena (Victoria Smurfit) has engaged a London solicitor Andersen (Rashan Stone) her former lover whom she discarded years before in favour of her late husband Carl, who it turns out, was a bully and a cheat. She intends divesting herself of Carl’s millions by funding a children’s hospital. Into the frame leap her self-absorbed, semi-renowned TV actor son Oz (Callum Scott Howells) who seems intent on rekindling a childhood understanding with Reggie (Patricia Allison) his late nanny’s daughter with a local handyman Jacob (Deka Walmsley). It’s at this point the audience become aware that perhaps a paternity test might indicate an alternative version of events.
With a number of Oedipus productions flitting in and out of the West End recently, there appears to be a (un?)healthy obsession with incest among theatregoers, but none of those other productions have come anywhere close to delivering so many barbed and brittle gems. For a play borne of such dark and grimy themes, this is a production scorched and seared with excruciatingly awkward moments landed with comedic acidity. Remarkably, this approach permits the audience opportunities to absorb each skin-crawling revelation as the breath catches at the back of the throat, seemingly enhancing the experience. This is especially significant when sanctimonious judgements unravel once placed into context which serves as a lesson for every modern day user of social media platforms!
Omnipresent to proceedings in Merle Hensel’s design, is the thick-set head and neck of a man (presumably) Carl, ranged around the walls, whilst in the distance is the billowing mist and fog redolent of the clouds of the characters’ murky pasts.
As Ibsen once observed of his own process in playwrighting: “I do but ask, my call is not to answer”.
