Review: Melmoth the Wanderer. Glasgow Tron Theatre

THERE are weeks, in 21st century theatre, when two spoofs are definitely one and a half too many.

Hot on the heels of the National Theatre of Scotland’s fairly pointless comic remix of The Wicker Man, here come the Big Telly company of Northern Ireland, with a jokey, self-undermining version of the story of Melmoth The Wanderer, said to be the first ever horror novel.

Melmoth is a Faustian figure originating in the 17th century, who sells his soul to the Devil, in return for eternal life, youth and beauty, and hypnotic charm. The price is that he must travel the world drawing others to the dark side and inflicting unspeakable suffering on those already in the darkest moment of their lives.

Like the National Theatre of Scotland’s show, though, this version of Melmoth attempts a double perspective involving amateur performers; in this case a local church choir, full of camp and couthy blethers, and stubborn resistance to stories featuring the Devil.

And despite the amount of talent on view – the show features a script by Glasgow playwriting star Nicola McCartney, five excellent actors, and some powerful sound, light, and dance – there is not a cat in hell’s chance of the audience ever being obliged to take the story seriously.

As soon as anything nasty happens, the actors all immediately get up again, and inform us that they are only pretending to be dead.

In the last twenty minutes, Zoe Seaton’s production stops running through the check-list of vaguely fashionable non-naturalistic devices, and begins to achieve a real dramatic balance between the horror of the story, and the desperate clinging to normality of the performing company.

And if they want to do grown-up theatre rather than undergraduate meta-jokes, it seems to me that Big Telly need to go back to the drawing-board, and try to achieve that sense of significance through the whole length of their two-hour show.

Rating: ***