Created by Danny Robins

Directed by Matthew Dunster and Isabel Marr

Tickets from £19.50

Audiences’ nerves don’t stand a ghost of a chance as we enter a season of spooky treats across Edinburgh – with a fair few spirits rising to greet guests at the Festival Theatre. From re-imagined Dracula to contemporary ghoulish tales, the psychological and visual horrors of well-crafted theatre shows are a rare sight but a welcome one from audiences.

Venturing into the creative decisions to craft a ghost story for contemporary audiences, Danny Robins 2:22 A Ghost Story finds a firm and authentic footing establishing itself closer to a dialogue-driven melodrama – even soap opera, than to the Victorian spectres of Susan Hill or Oscar Wilde. In a room, a strikingly well-designed one, that could be in any home for any member of the audience: one where the ghosts we face down are less Scooby Doo and are far more traumatically viable.

Unassuming, some are likely familiar with the production’s streak of celebratory players amongst its revolving cast in the Westend – from Harry Potter’s Tom Felton, singer-songwriter Lily Allen to Cheryl Ann Tweedy’s (Cole) stage debut. But beneath this is a compelling tale of the psychological battle between the supernatural and the mind. Robin’s cast of four drinks long into the night to uncover the truth of the mysterious goings-on which occurs every night at 2:22 a.m. Jenny swears it’s a ghost, hearing a man crying in the house, with strange activity setting the new mother on edge. Her partner, Sam, is of little comfort. A man of science, Sam’s steadfast scepticism is understandable if a touch standoffish. Lauren (Sam’s ex) is happy to be back in his life but offers a sincere hand to Jenny as she fears for their young child’s safety sharing a house with a spectre. Rounding out our motley crew is Ben the builder, played with a blinder by Joe Absolom who graced the festival stage in A Shawshank Redemption not long ago.

The beauty of it all, the absolute gem in what audiences will take are the conversations and energy which pulsate through the theatre long after the curtain drops. Encouraging to see so many ravenous to discuss the show, to natter about the frights and twists, and prove to one another that they knew about it all along. It’s a rare gift – one which opens all eyes to the success of the show on its Westend run and hugely appealing nature. But this reliance on shock is also the production’s significant issue – when stripped back from the fright and jumpscares, the atmosphere is barebone, offering insight into the shorter runtime of two hours with an interval. Occurring over two nights there’s an attempt to maintain the expectant frights outside of the 2:22 a.m. timeslot. They work, certainly rippling a shock among the audience, but it feels cheap and easy, though undoubtedly effective.

An attempt at a contemporary ghoulish tale, 2:22 falls back on the cinematic scares which plague the once award-winning horror genre. There is a solid story behind the sudden flashes of neon and squealing foxes off-stage. Some of the more powerful moments of the show occur in the fear of nothing, rather than the obvious. They also serve tremendously to aid characters with smaller areas of development like Charlene Boyd’s Lauren, who quickly manages to become a firm favourite for the audience when left alone in the house – nothing but Boyd’s authentic terror, and the show’s exceptional soundscape to implant fear.

Ian Dickinson’s sound design has equal position and right to claim the spectacle as Chris Fisher’s illusions. The repetitive beat, droning out fluctuates to the rhythm of the heart into the audience, as Anna Fleischle’s flawlessly crafted small set is clearly designed for smaller venues (the Festival’s sister stage, the King’s Theatre would have been ideal). It is nevertheless clean and effective, claustrophobic enough to raise tensions, but offers enough room for the cast to play with the momentum – both Absolom and Nathaniel Curtis having an absolute ball thundering across the stage and weaving around Boyd and Louisa Lytton (Jenny).

With Matthew Dunster and Isabel Marr’s direction, Boyd, Absolom, Lytton and Curtis bring plenty of baggage and humour to the show to pad out and attempt to build character dynamics. It works for Absolom, Lloyd and Curtis who are all stricken with ego, sarcasm and unfulfilled romances, but Lytton draws the short straw as Jenny. A perfectly serviceable performance, Jenny’s role as a new mother rarely stretches beyond this, written into a corner. As the tension heightens, and the looming digital clock comes closer to the witching hour (so to speak), the dialogue takes dips in quality and strips back the agency of characters which have so far remained engaging. But then again, fear does funny things to people.

Even for those who have an inkling towards the production’s angle, the surprise threads and clues glaring out at audiences from the beginning are some of the most well-concealed and threaded in any contemporary storytelling production. Though 2:22 may struggle to infect audiences with the genuine terror of The Woman in Black, it succeeds in setting pulses racing with the skeleton of it’s narrative arc, slipping as it attempts to flesh out the characters. Let’s hope the Festival Theatre has some smelling salts ready – cause the spooky season hits Edinburgh with a successful shriek, and 2:22 A Ghost Story is the ideal haunting start to a busy season. Be brave. Pay attention and enjoy some brilliantly haunting theatre.