Review – The Woman in Black – Theatre Royal, Brighton

The Woman in Black is one of those rare stage productions that reminds you exactly why live theatre is so gripping. From the moment the performance begins, the atmosphere in the auditorium shifts—there’s a sense of unease, anticipation, and curiosity that never really lets up until the final blackout. 

The story itself is deceptively simple: a man haunted by events from his past seeks to exorcise his memories by retelling them. What gives the play its power is the way this narrative unfolds onstage. With just two actors and a minimal set, the production conjures an entire world: bleak marshes, an eerie old house, foggy graveyards, and a small, suspicious town. The economy of staging makes everything more unsettling. Because so much is suggested rather than shown, your imagination is constantly working, filling in the gaps with images that feel deeply personal and deeply disturbing. 

The acting is central to the play’s impact. Daniel Burke as The Actor and John Mackay as Arthur Kipps switch between characters with remarkable clarity, using small shifts in posture, voice, costume and movement to signal who they are at any given moment. It’s impressive to watch Mackay slip between multiple roles while Burke charts a gradual transformation from stiff formality to raw terror. Their chemistry keeps the pace taut; even in quieter moments, you sense an undercurrent of dread building in the background. 

The sound and lighting design carries a huge share of the storytelling, and they are used with real precision. Sudden noises, distant echoes, and subtle changes in light are timed to perfection, heightening tension without ever feeling cheap or overdone. A creak in the dark, a faint cry, or the quick flare of a lantern is often more frightening than a full visual reveal. The play understands that what you don’t see—and what you only half hear—can be more unnerving than anything fully explained. 

The staging is clever throughout. Simple props and pieces of scenery are transformed into multiple locations with small adjustments, but it never feels confusing. Instead, it feels like watching a ghost story being constructed in front of you, piece by piece, as imagination and reality blur. The production leans into the theatricality of it all; it doesn’t try to imitate film, but uses the strengths of live performance—suspense, silence, shared space—to pull the audience in. 

One of the most impressive aspects is how the show manages its scares, in that they are not constant, and that’s precisely why they work. Long stretches of storytelling and character development lull you into thinking you’re safe, before a carefully orchestrated moment of shock jolts the audience back into the horror at the tale’s core. These reactions feel communal; you can sense everyone around you tensing, jumping, and then laughing nervously with relief. 

Beyond the fright, the play also has emotional weight. It’s not just about a phantom figure; it’s about grief, guilt, and the long shadow of trauma. Arthur Kipps desperation to be rid of his memories, and his growing awareness that he may never be free of them, adds a tragic dimension that lingers after the show ends. This gives the piece more depth than a simple ghost train of jump scares—it resonates as a human story wrapped in supernatural trappings. 

The Woman in Black is especially impressive considering how its enduring appeal remains. It feels timeless rather than dated, relying on solid storytelling, strong performances, and theatrical craft instead of flashy effects. For anyone who enjoys ghost stories, atmospheric drama, or just the thrill of being deliciously frightened in a darkened theatre, this play is an absolute must-see. It’s chilling, gripping, and surprisingly moving—a haunting experience in every sense. 

*****    Five Stars