Created by Danny Robins

Directed by Matthew Dunster and Isabel Marr

Review by Annie Aslett

Tickets from £13.00

Following monumental success in the West End and a jump across the pond, the touring production of Danny Robins’ 2:22 A Ghost Story finally lands with a bump in the night at The King’s Theatre, Glasgow. The direction, lighting and set design (by Matthew Dunster and Isabel Marr, Lucy Carter, and Anna Fleischle) come together to create a genuinely spooky show; well-managed jump scares keep the audience on edge throughout (expect nervous-excited mumblings during set changes). 

With revelations that make you instantly want to return the next night to catch the clues you missed, gobsmacked discussions are guaranteed to go on long after you leave the theatre. So much of the show’s publicity over its lifespan in London is centred on its star-studded casts ( Harry Potter’s Tom Felton, Lily Allen, Doctor Who’s Mandip Gill, Laura Whitmore and Cheryl to name a few), so UK-wide audiences will be keen to witness the phenomenon – but does it stand up beyond stunt casting? Spoiler alert (don’t worry, not that spoiler): it does.

That is not to say that the line-up this evening lacks calibre. Yes, our touring quartet have starred in some big-name shows, but their charisma and nuance on stage are the real draw. The foursome of Joe Absolom, Charlene Boyd, Nathaniel Curtis and Louisa Lytton work as an inimitable team as they navigate through this intense story. All set in one room over the course of one evening, the play requires its actors to find and portray real depth in their characters: the key to elevating this show beyond its jumpscares to a relatable drama that deals with love, regret, parenthood and partnerships.

Curtis and Lytton play Sam and Jenny, new parents in a new home navigating the strain that this has put on their relationship. 2:22 invites us to a dinner party at their home where they are joined by Boyd as Lauren, Sam’s old university friend, and her new partner, Ben (Absolom). Over the past few nights, while Sam has been away, Jenny has been terrified by the sounds of a presumed ghost that occurs at 2:22 each night, coming through the baby monitor. Over the course of their evening, she tries to convince the others of the ghosts’ existence, to varying degrees of success. 

Her husband, Sam, is a sardonic sceptic, played masterfully by Curtis. Previous actors have portrayed a more likeable, relatable version of Sam, that perhaps didn’t do justice to how awful it would be for Jenny’s character to be dismissed at every turn by the one person who should have her back. Quick to mock and smug to a fault, Curtis delivers a Sam with measure – showing us the side of Sam that Jenny fell in love with; confident, strong-willed and self-assured. But as the evening progresses Curtis also doesn’t shy away from the domineering, overbearing and infuriatingly sarcastic side of the character.

2:22 is really so much more than just a ghost story, a tense show on relationships – Curtis’ Sam allows the audience to sympathise much more with Louisa Lytton’s Jenny, as the put-upon housewife who does everything while her husband monologues. Lytton arguably has the least to work within the role of Jenny, whose struggles are out in the open from the off, as opposed to the hidden depths of other characters. A realistic, if safe, portrait of an exhausted and overwrought mother, Lytton shines during moments of tension between Jenny and Sam. 

Boyd plays Lauren, whose increasingly drunken state provides moments of levity with an undercurrent of tragedy as we learn more about her past. Boyd’s portrayal of a fiercely intelligent woman careening towards middle age with a lifetime of regret is as charming as it is bleak. Fantastic acting is not thin on the ground in this production, but some of the rawest, yet simplest, moments come when Lauren is alone on stage with her guard down, or if you let your eyes wander to Boyd in the background of scenes where she looks on, let down by everything and everyone but the glass in her hand.

Ben is Lauren’s xenophobic, anti-gentrification, sockless new boyfriend whose character has the potential to veer into one-note comic relief but is treated delicately in Absolom’s hands. We, the audience, can at once laugh at him, understand why Sam takes against him immediately, and sympathise with him as he laments the takeover of his childhood area by “posh twats” (the less said about his other opinions, the better). Absolom walks these different lines with grace and humour.

2:22 only works beyond surface-level jumpscares if the audience can sympathise with the characters. The lightning flashes and fox shrieks occasionally veer into the camp rather than scary in the second act, but the believable and heart-warming/wrenching performances of the cast make this show a must-see. Come for the hype, stay for the edge-of-your-seat staging and grounded performances, and leave with the “we need to discuss this in excruciating detail” excitement that only comes from note-perfect collaboration between story and direction.