Theatre is not always good at creating a visceral experience — the medium is designed as a platform for exploring ideas, not action (let’s take musicals and pro-wrestling out of the equation). Anthologies are also difficult to pull off — not only do you have to provide a strong set of tight stories, you also have to provide a wraparound narrative or theme that ties the whole thing together.

Written by Benjamin Teh, A Ghost Tale is a valiant attempt at tackling a genre anthology onstage. It is an interesting gumbo of ideas and themes which don’t quite blend together. [More] 

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The timing of this play seems a little off.  However, if Halloween passed you by this year (as it did me) and you feel you’ve missed out, or if you were so well into it that you’re now suffering withdrawals, this freaky little independent production may get you into and/or replenish the eerie mood. 

A large wooden sea-chest in the middle of the stage constitutes most of Rabia Khan’s set design besides a couple of wall-dressings used in individual stories. The audience is seated in the round, so each person has a unique visual perspective, however as we’re all at ground level there are unfortunate sightline issues.  While it may arguably contribute to the desired sense of unrest and discomfort, it’s mostly just a nuisance, plus the action seems to tend to favour those seated to the rear and right hand sides from the entrance, resulting in a notable variation in overall quality of the visual experience depending where you sit. 

The cast comprises six energetic young actors: James Meva, Rhema Sutherland, Travis Graham, Emma-Mae Eglinton, Alex Dyer and Nicole Stevens – all new to me, so I apologise for being unable to match the names to their various characters.  

The opening preamble, setting up a classic teen-horror, ‘cabin in the woods’ type scenario, is a tad clichéd and unconvincing, but they soon get into their stride as the series of grisly yarns gets underway. 

The title is oddly misleading, since the play is an anthology of eight separate undead-based anecdotes as ostensibly shared between the partying youngsters in a bid to out-scare each other.  At least that’s the set premise, but once the first one begins we don’t see these characters again until near the end; rather, each freakish narrative simply rolls into the next.  On one hand it feels like clumsy pacing, although it’s feasibly intended to give the overall work an unbalanced nightmare sort of quality. 

The eclectic assortment of stories covers a good deal of quirky scenarios and familiar tropes from the horror genre.  The vengeful child, the lost campers stalked in the dark, the tortured soul trapped in the mirror, the wastrel facing ultimate judgment … et cetera.  Outcomes range from clear to ambiguous; the brief piece about a young girl playing with her doll being set upon by a posse of grim reapers is compelling yet bewilderingly abstract. 

Written by Benjamin Teh, the stylistic variation gives the impression it’s been devised and/or workshopped by the cast to some degree.  While I can’t personally claim to have been properly ‘got’ at any point, the actors on the whole offer strong performances under the smart direction of Jesse Hilford, ranging from brooding stillness to abject terror, with generous portions of excessive, unhinged laughter. 

Essential to any self-respecting horror show, the production design is quintessentially appointed, lending a good deal of spooky credibility to the presentation at large.  Sean Kelly’s soundtrack and score is morbid, violent, whimsical and unsettling.  Nova Jackson’s lights make estimable use of shadow and darkness amongst all manner of flickering, glimmering, glowing and glaring as befits the desired atmosphere.

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