Apex Predator, Hampstead Theatre Review
Sophie Melville and Laura Whitmore in Apex Predator. Photo by Ellie Kurttz
Written by Franco Milazzo for Theatre & Tonic
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review
Vampires have seemingly always had a rough time of it. When not being hunted by disgruntled villagers or lusted after by hordes of horny teenagers, their portrayal in the media has gone from the sublime (the True Blood and Ultraviolet TV series, for example) to the ridiculous (the Twilight books and the Twilight films, for example).
Theatre has been kinder to these misbegotten creatures of the night and London currently boasts a wacky musical and, later this year, a more traditional retelling of the Dracula story. John Donnelly’s Apex Predator is a more oblique take with an intriguing modern day premise: what if a vulnerable woman was being seduced by a local vampire while her partner was busy hunting the undead?
Veering off the well-trodden path comes with risks but this fresh approach has its appeal. In this world, sunlight is not a problem, there’s no mention of garlic, staves or holy water. Sure, there’s gore and biting and all kinds of bloody shenanigans but that’s almost frippery around the central storylines.
With partner Joe working nights and sometimes entire days on a secret mission, Mia is home alone baby daughter Isla while 11-year-old son Alfie goes to school. Suffering from postpartum depression and with a noisy upstairs neighbour, she is clearly on the edge of a nervous breakdown. In comes Ana, Alfie’s teacher and a fan of his violent drawings who begins to show more than a polite interest in Mia. Does she want Mia’s heart or just what pumps through it?
Donnelly doesn’t belabour any of the points in his snappy script. With 80 minutes of drama wrapped around a 20-minute interval (which the playtext suggests is optional), the plot motors along with some brilliant zingers breaking up the more melodramatic elements. If dramedy wasn’t such an awkward portmanteau, it would perfectly describe this tale which confidently blends laughs with the more terrible events.
Designer Tom Piper’s set screams claustrophobic confinement as soon as the curtain goes up: the width of the Hampstead stage is never used and instead a much smaller built-up space is presented. Sliding screens allow for rapid shifts from a home kitchen to outdoor areas as Mia and Ana’s relationship develops. It’s simple and it works well, focussing the attention on what is happening.
Laura Whitmore is a brilliantly icy Ana who tempts and lures her victim to the dark side and only veers into clichéd haughtiness towards the end. Opposite her, Sophie Melville mines her character’s desperation and fragile state of mind for all it’s worth, leaving us in doubt until the final moments over whether everything we are seeing is real or just her imagination. Donnelly doesn’t give enough time or space to comprehend to any great degree anyone else’s motivations - we see what they do but not why - but, given the short running time by modern standards, that’s understandable and maybe even forgivable.
Less forgivable is director Blanche McIntyre’s choice to have an interval. The deftness she showed in her Tom Stoppard revival The Invention of Love (staged at this same venue over Christmas) is almost completely absent. Instead of going for zippy and enjoyable, she unnecessarily hits pause after one high point and manages to exsanguinate all the atmosphere that had been built up. The tension fizzes out somewhat after the interval and the neatly delivered one-liners and the taut script are asked to compensate for this unforced dip, something that they struggle to do.
As a piece of theatre, Apex Predator has promise in its exploration of early parenthood and its deleterious - albeit temporary - mental effects. Like Let The Right One In, Donnelly wisely doesn’t go for outright horror either to entertain or to make his points. There’s no deficit of storytelling, but more characterisation wouldn’t have gone amiss. Taken as a comedy, this is Hampstead’s finest for quite some time.
At Hampstead Theatre until 26 April
★ ★ ★
