Horror playing at Sydney Opera House. Photo by Sanne Peper.
Swedish theatre maker and trained magician Jakob Ahlbom’s Horror is a sumptuous homage to the horror genre in film. Lovers of the genre revel in it’s special effects wizardry and it’s ability to manifest our darkest trauma within the safety of a theatrical experience. Critics will shun it’s style over substance approach, whereby the smoke and mirrors often come at the expense of story and character. Horror is no exception to the rule, so it’s a safe bet you’ll know whether or not this production is going to float your boat.
The story employs some pretty typical horror frameworks. Within the tried and tested haunted house scenario, a young woman returns to the scene of her unhappy childhood, which featured abusive (foster?) parents and a sister whom she ultimately betrayed. It is a functional story which only serves as a skeleton to hang horror aesthetics off. By the same token, characters are mere tropes who serve simple functions – the boyfriend, the goofy friend, the abusive parents, the tortured sister. The genre’s disregard for well-rounded characters is whole heartedly embraced in that the characters are so one-dimensional that they don’t even need to talk – these tropes are played out impressively in a demanding physical performance.
The sumptuous set design is the hero of this work. It is not only dazzling to behold, but technically conceptualised to enable film special effects to be played out in a real life performance. The stage is divided into two sections, a foregrounded sunken living room and raised kitchen behind. A transparent screen in front of the kitchen allows visuals to be projected over it, a tribute to Horror’s cinematic roots. True to tradition, unnerving sound design and score are the main drivers of fear and emotion, and although it is a little too constant and heavy-handed in some parts, considering that this is not a genre of subtlety, this is easily forgiven. A severed hand wanders across the stage, picture frames dance across the walls, a body levitates before disappearing – the effects are slick enough to fill even the most jaded audience with childlike wonder.
Horror playing at Sydney Opera House. Photo by Sanne Peper.
The production unravels a little in the second half. A subplot involving a pair of newlyweds is introduced, and here the effects start to get repetitive as the newlyweds walk more or less the same journey through the house as first visitors. The production falters when it breaks from the tradition of horror, as in one scene of physical performance when the protagonist is entwined with the male characters in a contemporary dance number which seems awkwardly jammed in. The following music video style action sequence where she takes out her enemies one by one is not as satisfying or cathartic as is should be, considering that she is not a simple hero as in a typical action scene – she is the threat as much as she is the victim in subversive horror style. Much can be forgiven with a production this slick, but the line is always drawn at self indulgence. This production would have attracted a much higher rating had it not broken one of the cardinal rules of entertainment – keep them wanting more.
Ultimately, Horror is about catharsis – it is not only a theme of the story, but also deeply embedded in the experience it provides the viewer. Surviving trauma, even by proxy, makes us stronger, more resilient, and gives us a different perspective on the world. For anyone with an appreciation of the audio-visual arts, you’d be hard pressed not to find something to like in this production, as long as you’re prepared to endure an extra 30 mins of B-plot. For those who seek story above all, this one is unlikely to change your mind.
3 ½ stars ★★★☆
Horror
By Jakop Ahlbom Company
Supported by the Performing Arts Fund NL
29 August – 2 September 2018
Sydney Opera House
