Kip Williams’s adaptation of Dracula, starring Cynthia Erivo at the Noël Coward Theatre, is a production where the machinery of modern "cine-theatre" effectively drains the lifeblood from Bram Stoker’s gothic masterpiece. While Williams previously found success with this high-tech approach in The Picture of Dorian Gray, here the marriage of stage and screen feels less like a revelation and more like a restrictive digital cage.
The fundamental conceit—having a single performer inhabit twenty-three characters—results in a narrative that is surprisingly difficult to navigate. Rather than a virtuosic display of range, the characterisations are often so simplistic they verge on the (involuntary) comical. Without a supporting cast to provide contrast, the nuances of the plot are lost in a muddle of shifting accents and wigs that fail to provide enough variation to distinguish the players.
The actual set-up simply does not work for a story of this scale and atmosphere. For much of the almost 2-hour (with no interval) duration, Erivo interacts with pre-recorded versions of herself projected onto a gargantuan screen. This creative choice robs the production of the visceral, unpredictable energy that only a live ensemble can generate. Instead of a chilling encounter with the supernatural, the audience is left watching a solitary actor struggle to synchronise with a digital loop.
Visually, the production is frequently frustrating. Because Erivo must perform for the lenses of a constantly swarming camera crew, she spends parts of the show with her back turned toward the audience. While the technical stitching of the live and pre-recorded footage is undeniably impeccable, the intrusive presence of camera operators on stage makes it nearly impossible to maintain any sense of immersion or focus on the drama.
Furthermore, the pressure of navigating Williams’s twenty-thousand-word monologue within such a rigid technical frame is evident, with several noticeable line stumbles that further hamper the momentum. Designer Marg Horwell’s bare stage offers no environmental texture to compensate for these hitches, leaving the technology to do all the heavy lifting.
Ultimately, one is left with the impression that this is a show you could watch at a cinema and have the exact same experience. In its attempt to be cutting-edge, the production forgets the primary appeal of the theatre: the live, shared presence of actors and audience. For a tale so steeped in dread, this Dracula is curiously sterile, proving that technical brilliance is no substitute for a theatrical pulse.
Dracula plays until 31 May 2026.
Photo: Daniel Boud