The Enfield Haunting review: The dreariest of ghost stories

Without Catherine Tate’s name attached, I doubt The Enfield Haunting would ever have made it to the West End. Her pulling power will put bums on seats. Whether they’ll be able to stop fidgeting throughout this dreariest, most dragging of ghost stories is another thing entirely. It’s about as suspenseful as queuing for a drink before the show. And, given that a 175ml house wine will set you back nearly £11, considerably less terrifying.

The reviews have been scathing and it certainly can’t compete with other stage scarers like The Woman in Black and 2:22 A Ghost Story. There were no walk-outs when I saw it but maybe there would have been if it ran for longer than 75 minutes and had an interval. There were no screams or gasps either, nor the sort of nervous laughter from an audience on the edge of its seats. Just one rather loud yawn from the rear of the dress circle.

Written by Paul Unwin, it stars Tate as single mum Peggy, who is struggling to keep her cool as her council home appears to be the scene of a poltergeist invasion. One of her daughters also seems to be possessed as she levitates in the bedroom and growls like Linda Blair in The Exorcist.

Tate is pretty good too, although drama isn’t really her forte and she doesn’t get enough time to dig deep enough into Peggy’s anguish. David Threlfall gamely tries to make the most of the underwritten role of paranormal investigator Maurice Grosse but his performance verges on the hammy.

This true story has been told before and better. The real-life haunting from 1977 to 1979 was covered in book form by Grosse’s colleague Guy Lyon Playfair, who was subsequently played by Matthew Macfadyen in a three-part TV series. It also inspired the creepy film The Conjuring 2.

Directed by Angus Jackson, the play plunges straight in. The house is already haunted and the story has already made the papers, so there’s little build up suspense. In the programme, Unwin talks about being emotional after meeting Grosse and ponders the imaginative power of theatre to examine what happens when we face extraordinary events. But the storytelling is sluggish and he fudges the moment when Grosse’s own links with the haunting are revealed.

Lots of things go bump in the night (well, I saw it at a matinee but you get the drift). Lights flicker, there are bangs and crashes, loud noises, distorted voices, ghostly apparitions, and sudden blackouts. Still, without any escalating sense of tension, it’s just fright by numbers – skilfully done but to what end?

On the way out I heard someone say “The acting was terrible”, which I don’t agree with since the younger cast members are especially impressive. She also said, “Why did they bother putting it on stage?” Unfortunately, on that sentiment, I couldn’t agree more.

The Enfield Haunting is at the Ambassadors Theatre, London, until 2 March. Get tickets here.