The Women In Black- Bristol Old Vic ★★★

There’s something faintly uncanny about The Woman in Black still stalking our stages as it edges towards 40. A theatrical juggernaut that refuses to die, it creaks a little now, but like any good ghost, that sense of age and wear might actually be part of its lingering, peculiar charm. From the off, this feels steeped in the traditions of old-school chillers: the kind of story you might swap around a fire, all flicker and shadow and suggestion doing the heavy lifting. It’s undeniably atmospheric, but also unmistakably slow to get going, with the opening stretching out like fog across a marsh—thick, deliberate, and in no real hurry to lift. You can almost feel the machinery being assembled in front of you: here’s the frame, here’s how it works, now settle in and listen. It demands a degree of patience, and not every audience member will be inclined to meet it halfway. What continues to land, though, is that central theatrical sleight of hand: the shifting, slippery line between actor…

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