At the Minerva Theatre in Chichester, theatergoers are treated to a delightful blend of horror and comedy as an eclectic group of characters gathers for a will reading. Chris Wiegand brings us the details.
Picture this: if the walls of Keith Richards’ country estate, Redlands, could speak, they’d unveil a rock’n’roll history unlike any other. This infamous setting serves as the backdrop for the Chichester Festival Theatre’s current production. Playwright Carl Grose breathes new life into John Willard’s classic 1922 mystery, “The Cat and the Canary,” set in a spooky mansion loaded with secrets. The guests in this story are on high alert, anxious that the very walls might be listening to every whispered conversation.
The production opens with an eye-catching sequence that acts as both a mission statement and a captivating introduction. It mixes horror elements—a haunting nursery rhyme, a flashlight piercing the darkness, and a puppet that evokes memories of both Little Red Riding Hood and “Don’t Look Now.” Thunder rumbles, eerie laughter echoes, and unsettling piano notes resonate across Angela Davies’ sophisticated set, which features a black-and-white checkered floor creating a dizzying optical illusion, adding to the atmosphere as unsuspecting visitors arrive.
Directed by Paul Hunter, this co-production with Told By an Idiot embraces a more whimsical tone than authentic terror, particularly during the peak moments of the first and second acts—Willard’s most chilling scenes. Grose cleverly shifts the setting from the Hudson River estate to Cornwall’s Bodmin Moor, maintaining the story’s period elements while modernizing the characters. They’ve all come together to hear the will of Cyrus West, captivatingly portrayed by Reece Shearsmith in an engaging video presentation. As the plot unfolds, a crucial stipulation in West’s will comes to light: if any beneficiary is deemed “of unsound mind,” they lose their rightful inheritance.
For Willard, this clause serves as a clever plot device that propels the drama forward as the self-serving guests scheme against each other, only to fall prey to mysterious murders while a shadowy figure—who believes himself to be a feline—lurks in the shadows. Although Grose strives to add some depth through a more introspective examination of trauma and mental illness, the production often struggles to balance psychological horror with its comedic touches. Lucy McCormick shines with a physical performance that embodies the quirky tone reminiscent of her uproariously dark cabaret acts.
The narrative is richly layered, echoing the extravagant visual style characteristic of Told By an Idiot, amplifying the theatrical experience. The evening is filled with absurd delights: a clock and telephone come alive, immersive sound effects by Adrienne Quartly elevate the eerie ambiance, and hilariously comic scenes unfold under stark lights during theatrical blackouts. The dialogue sparkles with wit; for instance, when McCormick’s character asks Will Merrick’s pretentious, Hamlet-referencing actor if he fears large, empty houses, he snaps back, “Not me, I’ve played Theatre Royal Windsor!”
While the relationships between characters might not delve deeply, the quirky personalities stand out, including Hayley Carmichael’s mysterious maid, Tarinn Callender’s muscular boxer, and Nick Haverson, who deftly juggles multiple roles—including a humorous exchange with himself accompanied by a drum roll during a death scene. Although the performance doesn’t quite elevate beyond its individual elements, it flows effortlessly like an engaging montage of stylish sequences. Ultimately, it’s less about the madness within and more about the creative techniques that leave a lasting impression.
Make sure to catch “The Cat and the Canary” at the Minerva Theatre before it closes on October 26.
