Review: In the Ahmanson’s ‘2:22 – A Ghost Story,’ poltergeists are more believable than people

Horror seldom rears its ugly head on the higher theaters. The style is rather more at dwelling within the pitch darkish of film homes, the place viewers can scream anonymously whereas comforting themselves with fistfuls of buttered popcorn.

However the stage is totally able to terrifying an viewers. (And no, I’m not speaking concerning the latest deconstruction of “Oklahoma!” that upset so many Ahmanson subscribers.)

Centuries earlier than “The Exorcist,” Shakespeare was conjuring evil spirts in “Macbeth.” Earlier than “Night time Should Fall” and “Wait Till Darkish” had moviegoers on the sting of their seats, they have been hit performs.

And the story is hardly lifeless and buried: Conor McPherson, a contemporary grasp of ghost dramas, has discovered poetic fact in inexplicable phenomena in performs resembling “The Weir,” “Shining Metropolis” and “The Seafarer.”

“2:22 – A Ghost Story,” which opened Friday on the Ahmanson Theatre, isn’t simply following on this custom. The manufacturing, directed by Matthew Dunster, is making an attempt to present refined fashionable horror a run for its cinematic cash.

Sound and lighting results are engineered to fray nerves. The all-important dream dwelling that turns into a dwelling nightmare sprawls stylishly throughout the stage. A digital clock with devilish illumination counts down the minutes to the inevitable confrontation with the menacing unknown.

The U.S. premiere of “2:22 – A Ghost Story,” which debuted in London’s West Finish final 12 months, appears decided to make theatrical fright nights trendy once more. The staging, as slickly fashionable as it’s unapologetically sensationalistic, makes an attraction to a brand new and maybe youthful demographic — the type of people who may not suppose an Ahmanson outing is for them.

The present’s apparent scare ways can get a bit of campy, however laughter isn’t incompatible with worry. Certainly, it might be a obligatory security valve.

The sometimes over-the-top staging isn’t what in the end holds the manufacturing again, although. The issue is the writing. The occult world is made to appear completely pure, however on a regular basis actuality sorely lacks credibility.

The script by Danny Robins, who created the favored podcast drama “The Battersea Poltergeist,” strains the appreciable abilities of the American forged that has been assembled. It’s a waste of appearing sources to assemble Constance Wu (“Loopy Wealthy Asians,” “Recent Off the Boat”), Finn Wittrock (Mike Nichols’ Broadway revival of “Dying of a Salesman,” many Ryan Murphy endeavors) , Anna Camp (“True Blood” and the “Pitch Good” trilogy) and Adam Rothenberg (Mel Sattem on the ultimate two seasons of Neflix’s “Ozark”) for a Heart Theatre Group providing that’s extra floor than substance.

The figures within the play — fashionable sorts whose identities are swiftly compiled like errant Wikipedia entries — are portrayed with excessive tv sheen. However they converse and act in ways in which usually don’t compute. Psychological coherence takes a again seat to tricksy plotting.

The setting is a home present process renovation in a newly gentrified neighborhood in Boston. Jenny (Wu) is doing a little last-minute paint touch-ups after we first encounter her. She has one ear cocked towards the child monitor because the gurgling of a sleeping toddler pipes by.

Time scrambles, and Jenny and Sam (Wittrock), her physics professor husband, are entertaining one other couple. Lauren (Camp), who went to varsity with Sam, and her romantic accomplice Ben (Rothenberg), who grew up within the neighborhood earlier than it turned stylish and has the thick Boston accent to show it, have come to take a look at Jenny and Sam’s new life and drink as a lot booze as characters in an Edward Albee play.

Jenny is noticeably short-tempered with Sam. She’s offended that he didn’t name to clarify why he could be so late, however she’s extra upset that he left her alone in the home. One thing occurred the opposite night time within the child’s room, at 2:22 a.m., that has satisfied her that the home is haunted.

Sam offers no credence to the concept of ghosts. However his conceited rationalism seems like a betrayal to Jenny, who resents dwelling in a scary home she had reservations about from the beginning.

As glass after glass of wine is downed, supernatural tales are exchanged. Opinions on the topic are divided, however conflicts are infected by male egos, class resentments and simmering jealousies.

There’s an apparent romantic backstory between Sam and Lauren, however neither character is convincingly drawn. Sam is writing “Astronomy for Idiots,” however the science he trots out seems like one thing from a potential reader of the e-book. Lauren is ostensibly a psychological well being care skilled, however her “skilled psychiatric analysis” of her mates calls for everybody to get hammered — an acceptable snicker line for a personality who acts extra like an unstrung affected person than a clinician.

Jenny and Sam share all of the intimacy of drained commuters on a rush-hour prepare. Lauren and Ben have a spat that escalates so clumsily it’s fortunate that theatergoers don’t have entry to distant controls.

Human interplay shouldn’t be the toughest factor to credit score in a drama that has furnishings shifting by itself accord.

I’m working assiduously to not spoil any surprises, of which there are fairly a couple of. Was I scared? Not significantly, however I used to be made jumpy by Ian Dickinson’s tense soundscape (the child monitor alone!) and Lucy Carter’s unpredictable lighting, recreated right here by Sean Gleason.

Anna Fleischle’s scenic design succeeds in turning the home into one of many manufacturing’s principal characters. However the dimensions of the Ahmanson stage are so huge that it’s as if cocktail banter have been being traded throughout a canyon.

The ending is intelligent, however I rolled my eyes — partly in disbelief, partly in chronological confusion. The moments main as much as the ultimate twist struck me as extra persuasively unique. But when I say one other phrase I’ll be haunted by scores of readers complaining that I spoiled the enjoyable.

The place: Ahmanson Theatre, 135 N. Grand Ave., L.A.
When: 8 p.m. Tuesdays by Fridays, 2 and eight p.m. Saturdays, 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sundays. Ends Dec. 4. (Name for exceptions)
Tickets: $40-$175 (topic to vary) 
Data: (213) 972-4400 or centertheatregroup.org
Working time: 2 hours, together with one intermission
COVID protocol: Masks are strongly advisable.