Kip Williams has become synonymous with a certain brand of high tech theatrical experimentation, and if you saw his production of The Picture of Dorian Gray with Sarah Snook, you know precisely what to expect from Dracula. The problem is that the formula has worn thin. What once felt inventive now comes across as an over reliance on technology at the expense of drama, performance and coherence. The technique dominates rather than illuminates, and the play’s dramatic pulse is squeezed out by a constant insistence on the screen.
The production has been marketed heavily on the return of Cynthia Erivo, a performer of extraordinary stature who should be a magnetic presence on any stage, and has demonstrated this ability many times. Yet audiences paying hundreds of pounds for the privilege spend most of the evening looking at her back. Erivo performs largely to the onstage cameras, her close ups projected onto an enormous screen. Audience connection is repeatedly traded for lens flare and blown up close ups. The stage is largely irrelevant as attention is funnelled to the screen.
Although billed as a one person show with Erivo playing twenty three characters, that’s slightly disingenuous. Mostly narrator figures are performed live, but the vast majority of roles appear via pre-recorded inserts. It is still Erivo, but pre-recorded nonetheless. The result is a disjointed collage of live and digital elements that never blends into a convincing whole. Williams has spoken of a twenty thousand word monologue. I would disagree. Erivo interacts with her pre-recorded self as she would if they had hired other actors. We do not need a dictionary to know that is not the strict definition of a monologue. It is a gimmick, and a gimmick that is not well executed.
 
 
 
 
What is perhaps most surprising is how tediously the story unfolds. By adhering so faithfully to the structure and tone of the novel, the production feels more like an illustrated audiobook than a piece of live theatre. The narrative trudges through familiar plot points without ever generating tension or atmosphere, and any sense of dread evaporates under the glare of the cameras. For a tale so steeped in terror, there is a striking lack of suspense or genuine fright. Instead, the production delivers a curiously flat retelling that never comes close to invoking the visceral horror that Dracula demands.
The character work is surprisingly weak for an artist of Erivo’s calibre. Several characters are almost indistinguishable and others are outright baffling, including Count Dracula which jars with every other element of the piece. Even the pre-recorded scenes feel amateurish, as though assembled in haste. Costumes and wigs look cheap, it’s more like a rummage through a Halloween bargain bin than a West End production.
Social media from preview audiences suggested Erivo was struggling with the text, and that teleprompters were visible. By this press performance things are better, but far from perfect. Delivery often sounds like recitation rather than performance, and occasional fumbles suggest prompts may still be in use, even if only as a safety net. Too often Erivo is rushing, or deliberately slowing down, the lines to fit in with the pre-recorded dialogue, often missing the mark completely, resulting in chaotic overlaps or awkward silence. The confusion extends to the storytelling itself. More than once it becomes impossible to tell who Erivo is meant to be, and the plot drifts away entirely.
Onstage costume changes stall or distract from the action repeatedly, each one dragging the pace to a crawl. The sound design is intrusive, a constant thudding that resembles noisy neighbours overhead. And despite claims that the production is highly technical, it is really no more technical than most West End shows. The difference here is that everything is plainly visible, perhaps to distract from the production’s numerous faults. At least these elements are handled by an onstage ‘backstage’ team who often provide more entertainment than anything happening centre stage.
Only in the final ten minutes does the production spark into life, with Erivo finally allowed to engage with the audience rather than the cameras. It is a tantalising glimpse of what Dracula might have been, but after nearly two hours of frustration it arrives far too late.
This is, regrettably, one of the worst evenings I have spent in a West End theatre. The producers could have announced Cynthia Erivo sitting on a stool for an hour and audiences would still have come. After witnessing this production, that option feels infinitely preferable.
 
 
 
 
Listings and ticket information can be found here
