If you’ve ever had the unfortunate luck of coming across a person in your life who, on the one hand, appears lovely, yet on the other is an absolute beast, then you’ll understand why Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde has endured. It names something we would all rather not admit is a very real and present problem: man’s capacity to be both.
Creation Theatre marks the beginning of its 30th birthday celebrations with this atmospheric adaptation of the 1886 novella.
For those of you unfamiliar with the story, it is centred on the respected Dr Jekyll who, aware of the burden of having to contain his shadow self, creates a potion that, when he drinks it, he can become his darker side, Mr Hyde, free from the shackles of maintaining face and reputation. Of course, once the beast is unleashed, it becomes increasingly hard to contain. Anyone who has dealt with a beast in real life will know this tends, unfortunately, to be the case, and so Dr Jekyll soon realises he is at the mercy of a force greater than he can manage, and thus tragedy unfolds.
Creation brings the tale to life inside the raw, industrial space of OVADA Gallery, an excellent match for the production, and dressed with its Victorian Gothic set feels suitably both edgy and grand all at once. The ‘stage’ extends into all corners of the audience at times and up the stairs to the mezzanine, with props dotted throughout so the boundary between what’s real and what’s performed is blurred. Similarly, throughout the performance, audience members are drawn into the action and required to improvise along (gently, don’t panic). The effect is a delightful, playful breaking of the fourth wall. And this all stands as a rather cunning metaphor for the issue at hand: are we who we perform ourselves to be, or are we the murkier, unregulated being that lies beneath?
The cast of three each delivered a confident performance: Jim Scott played a suitably steady Dr Jekyll, then adequately morphed into his scrunched and twisted shadow-self Hyde (he could have perhaps been even more gnarly, more warped); Jack Benjamin skilfully played the grounded lawyer Mr Utterson; but standout was Alex Ansdell, playing four differing roles and embodying each with buoyant, room-owning vigour. He was an absolute delight to watch. Notably, Benjamin and Ansdell performed the show’s score live on an upright piano in and amidst the action, and often duetting, which gave the performance a melodramatic depth and tightness.
Jekyll and Hyde is, unfortunately, a story that is as relevant today as it was in Victorian times. Then, society was preoccupied with restraint, correct conduct, and class, and you could deduce that Hyde is all that was repressed from this societal attitude. Today, we remain just as obsessed with our contrived, public-facing personas, though now we stare at each other’s performances through little rectangular screens held in our hands. Hyde now presents itself in our comment sections, our X (Twitter) feeds, and the many hit-and-run opportunities there are for mean communication today. There was nothing in Creation’s adaptation overtly touching on these subjects, however, and the production remained more of a good watch than a provocative piece of art.
Jekyll & Hyde as a night out is excellent, the venue is a treat, the bar and themed cocktails delicious, and the energy and creativity of the production are very pleasing. My one criticism is that I felt, towards the end, the narrative leaned a little too much into explanation over story. But I would like you to note the civilised, open, and polite manner in which I delivered that ever so light-touch complaint. Nothing to Hyde here.