Powerfully engrossing at every moment, The Psychic is a thrilling, twisty-turny-twist-again, psychological drama of intriguing personal and family conflict that has deliciously ambiguous, thought-provoking, supernatural, paranormal knobs attached and/or detached throughout.
Outstanding acting in a fine array of perfectly selected outfits creates characters who are intimately, passionately, engagingly real, while magical wizardry brings seamless, large-scale changes of set, taking us in a blink from one elegant, mesmerising location to another. Award-winning designer Rae Smith’s creations work in perfect harmony with Zoe Spurr’s beautiful lighting (and darkness) to bring glorious sunset or bewitching cityscape, to sit us at a glitzy, razzmatazz shooting-star TV psychic show or in a humble radio studio, at a classy funeral or in a little pub, outside a broad caravan or inside it, at a huge, elaborately furnished, continental villa or in a supremely elegant, stage-wide, wooden-floored apartment with candles and wall-lights ready for a seance. The beauty presented onstage is thrilling in itself.
Well balanced and perfectly crafted, the piece has been created by Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman. Jeremy (part of that creepy, creepy League of Gentleman) and Andy (sidekick of illusionist Derren Brown) have had recent phenomenal success with the scary, full-blown horror of Ghost Stories. This piece is not in the full-blown horror genre, but it does have plenty of sudden, ghostly shocks and unexpected surprises in all the right -places; it also poses unanswerable questions and thought-provoking puzzles. Tinged, perhaps, with the odd element of tongue-in-cheek fun, the use of mist, silences and sound effects like ticking clock, bell and sudden crashes and crunches are effective in building tension and atmosphere but not overdone. The most gripping aspect of this entertainment, though, stems from the way the story, characters and relationships develop, carrying thrill and intrigue into the final minutes of Act II and leaving questions that have been posed all night still floating on the ether, unanswered – What really is true? What is real? What is actually illusion, trickery or fakery? Might illusion just be self-delusion?
The story centres around Sheila Gold, a highly successful, highly paid TV psychic until she’s taken to court and loses all her money. But Sheila belongs to the long-established community of feisty “Roll up! Roll up!” showmen and show-women, often with fairground backgrounds, whose special language and mysterious skills are passed on orally through the generations. It’s not in Sheila to give up. Now enter a wealthy couple, grieving the loss of their small daughter, requesting a seance for which they’ll pay very handsomely – and let the unexpected twists and turns keep twisting and turning.
Consultant to The Psychic on all pertaining to the world of the Showman/Show-woman is William Hussey who himself grew up at the fair and is from an ancestral line of Showpeople. He knows about formidable women like Sheila and her mum, Rosa, fortune-telling dookerers, who are quick-witted, sharp-speaking, all-observant, wily and resourceful as they hone and practice their mysterious skills and pass them down to their daughters. Some terms used exclusively by that community feature in the play, and we find out (aha!) that the expression “cushty” has its origins here, as used by Delboy Trotter, a somewhat wily, wide-boy con artist himself.
Eileen Walsh is a brilliant Sheila, a tough, wily, Irish businesswoman, full of celebrity sparkle and smiles in her TV persona, full of booze and harsh cynicism behind the scenes, but with a tender side, tucked deep inside, that longs to break free if given half a chance, a wounded soul, scarred by her past and deserving sympathy. The use of the Irish song, When You Were Sweet Sixteen, adds much to creating an atmosphere of emotional poignancy around her, while Close Your Eyes has its own haunting, mesmerising quality, too.
As forceful, fiercesome and engaging as Eileen’s Sheila is Frances Barber as Sheila’s long-haired Irish mother, Rosa, brittle and heartless but also, deep inside, a wounded soul herself. Jaz Singh Deol and Nikhita Lesler are strong, too, as the wealthy Indian couple who seek to employ Sheila as a medium to contact their beloved, dead daughter while Dave Hearn plays Robert Hamm, Radio Man appropriately loud and self-confident. Then, keen to carry on the dookerer role, comes Tara, part of the younger generation, Megan Pacito portraying her beautifully as she journeys from stroppy youngster to adopting a more wily, adaptive, resourceful stance herself.
Consummate storytelling, perfectly shaped and woven to create a charming balance of tension-builds, frights, spooky alarm and sprinklings of humour, has us guessing and/or anticipating all the way as we relish the entertaining twists and turns in the shifting sands of reality. Perfectly excellent.
Eileen Caiger Gray
