When Maud's aunt passes away suddenly, she is surprised to learn that the house in which she lived in has been passed on to her. As Maud and their partner Lou move in and start to make a home - and family - for themselves, random noises, flickering lights and eerie visions begin to become far too common as deeply buried secrets eventually come to the surface. Written by Amy May Nunn, Our Monster's Name is Jerry is a queer, gothic horror story that looks at the depths we go to keep our anxieties at bay.
Em Jevons and Laura Jane Turner are great as Lou and Maud. They convincingly portray two people in a long-term relationship who know each other intimately and have a shared history. Jevons is particularly noteworthy as the concerned and supportive partner but who also finds themselves being drawn into this psychological and physical nightmare. Alanah Guiry's direction adds lots of flowing and gentle movements in the actors' actions that heightens the conflict and mystery taking place, especially at its most terrifying.
Tomas Parrish has clearly surrendered themself over to Jerry and with Guiry and Movement Consultant Amelia Jean O’Leary, they present a confronting character but as the show progresses it becomes less malevolent and more childlike, which loses some of its impact. Amanda LaBonté does fine work in the dual roles as nosey neighbour Barb and as Maud's mysterious and reclusive Aunt Wendy.
The set design by Savanna Wegman is remarkable, wholly transforming the space into this decrepit mansion that smells of "bleach and depression". Peeling walls, dilapidated furniture and dirty floors create a tense atmosphere and indicate the horror that has taken over this house. Doorways from the living area to the rest of the residence are shrouded in darkness hinting at the skeletons in the closet that are waiting to be discovered.
Thomas Roach's lighting designs is a constant slow dance with darkness, shadow and light, that builds anticipation and allows for suspenseful scenes to be acted out. Robbie Divine's sound design and Charlie Bowmaker's composition add a chill to the script with disquieting noises and music playing during conversations between the couple that intensify the dread.
While a few of the scares could be finessed (keeping the stage dark until certain activities are fully executed), it is impressive how this production has incorporated horror into the narrative where you may not scream, but it still packs in a punch. The interactions between the monster and Maud and Lou are brilliantly handled with clever lighting and sound cues that give opportunity for the tension to take its grip on you.
The ending is a little too dependent on exposition and one reveal from Maud feels like it comes out of nowhere. The final face-off with the monster while powerful, could be stronger with the inclusion of some sound at pivotal moments rather than cutting to black. The team do such a notable job of showing what is happening where it’s very noticeable when they spend too much time telling us what is happening.
By focusing on a tale of elevated horror and not relying on cheap jump scares, Our Monster's Name is Jerry tells an engrossing queer horror story about the secrets of the past and fears of the future. It’s also a not-so-subtle reminder that if you're ever willed a house from a strange relative, do not, under any circumstances, accept it.
Show Details
Em Jevons and Laura Jane Turner are great as Lou and Maud. They convincingly portray two people in a long-term relationship who know each other intimately and have a shared history. Jevons is particularly noteworthy as the concerned and supportive partner but who also finds themselves being drawn into this psychological and physical nightmare. Alanah Guiry's direction adds lots of flowing and gentle movements in the actors' actions that heightens the conflict and mystery taking place, especially at its most terrifying.
Tomas Parrish has clearly surrendered themself over to Jerry and with Guiry and Movement Consultant Amelia Jean O’Leary, they present a confronting character but as the show progresses it becomes less malevolent and more childlike, which loses some of its impact. Amanda LaBonté does fine work in the dual roles as nosey neighbour Barb and as Maud's mysterious and reclusive Aunt Wendy.
The set design by Savanna Wegman is remarkable, wholly transforming the space into this decrepit mansion that smells of "bleach and depression". Peeling walls, dilapidated furniture and dirty floors create a tense atmosphere and indicate the horror that has taken over this house. Doorways from the living area to the rest of the residence are shrouded in darkness hinting at the skeletons in the closet that are waiting to be discovered.
Thomas Roach's lighting designs is a constant slow dance with darkness, shadow and light, that builds anticipation and allows for suspenseful scenes to be acted out. Robbie Divine's sound design and Charlie Bowmaker's composition add a chill to the script with disquieting noises and music playing during conversations between the couple that intensify the dread.
While a few of the scares could be finessed (keeping the stage dark until certain activities are fully executed), it is impressive how this production has incorporated horror into the narrative where you may not scream, but it still packs in a punch. The interactions between the monster and Maud and Lou are brilliantly handled with clever lighting and sound cues that give opportunity for the tension to take its grip on you.
The ending is a little too dependent on exposition and one reveal from Maud feels like it comes out of nowhere. The final face-off with the monster while powerful, could be stronger with the inclusion of some sound at pivotal moments rather than cutting to black. The team do such a notable job of showing what is happening where it’s very noticeable when they spend too much time telling us what is happening.
By focusing on a tale of elevated horror and not relying on cheap jump scares, Our Monster's Name is Jerry tells an engrossing queer horror story about the secrets of the past and fears of the future. It’s also a not-so-subtle reminder that if you're ever willed a house from a strange relative, do not, under any circumstances, accept it.
Show Details
Venue: Theatre Works, 14 Acland St, St. Kilda
Season: until 22 February | 7:30pm, Sat 2pm
Duration: 90 minutes
Tickets: $49 Full | $38 Concession
Bookings: Theatre Works
Image credit: Kimberly Summer
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