Review of ‘Under The Shadow’: “Nightmarish play almost became a dream of a show”

I’ll admit it — I screamed at the end of Act One. Not at the top of my lungs, but it was fairly close. In my defence, everyone else did. And people’s jumps could probably be heard from a mile away. It was a brilliant first half. Superb structure, flawless pacing, and a masterful way of building up tension, which resulted in such a spine-tingling cliffhanger. If only its successor had met expectations…

Am I disappointed? Yes. It really pains me to see how such a well-crafted start can be wasted away by its clumsy successor. Is it worth watching anyway? The answer is still a yes. But be prepared to let go of those shivers and dramatic fulfilment when you return to your seats. It’s just not as good. And its final scene is likely to cement that feeling.

Based on the critically acclaimed 2016 film, Under The Shadow takes audiences on a journey to the past and into the Middle East, as the first and possibly most enduring horrors we encounter are those stemming from the 1980s Iran-Iraq conflict.

As the play begins, viewers are introduced to Shideh, a middle-aged woman and mother of one, who sees herself trapped beyond the immediate confines of war. Not only is her life at risk, but also her career, as she’s been blacklisted from her medical studies after engaging in dissident political activities during her youth.

But things are about to take a darker turn. Bleaker than she could ever imagine. Her daughter, Dorsa, has been displaying some strange behaviour. She’s been told stories by a fellow neighbour. Unsettling stories. Someone has broken into their house. Its essence isn’t human. And it won’t go away until it gets what it wants.

Playwright Carmen Nasr does a compelling job at translating film director Babak Anvari’s opera prima to the stage. Even when her writing skills show signs of exhaustion. Overall, the dialogue is powerful. It moves at a slow but growing cadence, consistently conveying depth, organicness, and dramatic strength.

Anvari’s narrative delivers a rich and highly resonant cast of characters. None of them is archetypal. Quite the contrary. They are all beautifully human. And painfully, too. In that regard, plot provides us with an exceedingly intricate array of themes, ranging from personal introspection (the hardships of parenthood, war-related trauma, the struggles linked to the loss of a close relative, and the sacrifices every choice in life entails) to the historical aspects that confer further originality and cultural value to the piece, including colliding views on patriotism, religion, and political oppression.

After watching in absolute awe how so many glowing elements come together in utter perfection, it was a tough realisation to see the play lose momentum. It might be that Act One’s jumpscare was so unexpected that nothing else could ever surpass it. But it shouldn’t be that difficult to make all those subsequent “surprises” feel more, well, surprising. And if they are no longer able to frighten us, they should at least give us the creeps.

The actual problem, however, lies in its declining uniqueness. The Jinn, an Islamic mythological creature- used here as both a literal and metaphorical representation of evil-is an excellent twist on the classic monster premise. But it withers as the narration advances. And eventually, many segments come across as either cliches or direct rehashes of a few successful predecessors, such as Poltergeist, The Woman in Black or even The Others.

Of course, every story has been told. And there are some wonderful alterations this one has counted on. The issue is that they don’t live on. And neither do their remaining components, as the script seems in a hurry to wrap things up without developing the necessary pathos and climax that Act One had misleadingly prepared us for.

Consequently, its effect on the viewer is only partial. It’s enticing but not that much arresting. It holds a grip on us, but it releases us from it too early on. Some excerpts are extremely moving, but ultimately, the script isn’t piercing enough. And it all comes down to the vapidness its conclusion suffers from.

The production exhibits resourcefulness in both staging and acting. Ben Stones’s design demonstrates adjustability and dynamism despite relying primarily on a still figurative set, efficiently evoking different spaces through subtle prop additions, a hidden trapdoor to suggest a bunker, and a clever integration of the proscenium to depict the aftermath of war.

The whole company excels in their delivery, which teems with rapport and nuance in their naturalistic approach. Leila Farzad earns a first mention as the lead, Sideh, portraying the character with ample layering and commanding presence. Simultaneously, Bijan Daneshmand oozes charm in the brief yet memorable role of Mr Bijari, while proving his versatility in an even briefer appearance as the Director. The highest praise goes to Nadia Albina as Pargol, whose performance is imbued with fervent soulfulness.

It’s more than a ghost of a show, but it isn’t as immortal as it could have been. There are many positive qualities to make Under The Shadow a moderately worthy watch, but it’s impossible not to throw shade at what eventually doesn’t feel complete. It has its trills. And its chills. But the haunting element isn’t quite there.

Under The Shadow plays at London’s Almeida Theatre until 4 July. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara