…truly brilliant….talented cast…audience spellbound…so often cheapened…by sensational versions, we were at last able to enjoy and understand the play fully adapted from the original novel by Kathleen McCreery…’ Dorset Evening Echo, 9.12.95 ‘Kathleen McCreery’s adaptation of Mary Shelley’s story sticks closely to the novel, veering away from any possible Hammer House of Horror overtones and concentrating on the horrors that lie inside a man’s brain. The tale is not one that allows you to sit back and relax. The physical nature of the acting, the questioning chants of the chorus and the pure drama of the storyline prompt deliberations and reflections…..Darrell Harding played the unloved, abandoned creature, stirring up pity in the audience….Cleverly, the mask he used did not make him into a hideous monster, rather a disfigured human being, which stressed the cruelty of man’s rejection of him. He was not a creation to be feared, but one searching for love…. ‘There were no comedy bolts-through-the neck and square foreheads. Instead, there was beautiful prose, weeping actors, and profound comment on the consequences of genetic engineering….vivid and engaging storytelling.’ ‘Kathleen McCreery’s adaptation of the brooding, universal tale Frankenstein…echoed through its use of a chorus of Greek tragedy. It also shook with Biblical imagery, there were hints of Camus’ The Outsider, and of racial hatred, Chernobyl, germ warfare, and the feeling that untenable horrors can so easily be unleashed on the world…..The enclosure of the action within a boxed scaffold frame suggested that human knowledge is not confined, that there are always horizons to be explored. Accompanied by specially composed music by Mark Ryan, the company of five, using physical theatre….adeptly doubled on parts…Darrell Harding gave a subtle portrait of the haunted and despised creature….As his creator, Mark Blythe’s was a many layered performance, revealing the emotional turmoil of a man torn between a determination to discover the unknown, …perplexed by the horror of what he had unleashed on the world. ‘ Viola von Harrach, The Courier, Tunbridge Wells, 1.12.95
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