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Sheila Gold, known as Britain’s most accurate psychic, wants her new clients to dislike her. “This is not a theater,” he warns them, as he lights seven candles for discussion.
This is an inside joke. Theater it is exactly what it is.
It’s a kind of theater where the lights dim, then dim again, the bell rings by itself and drowns out the ticking of the clock, while the audience sinks into a unique kind of silence, static and focused. If there were no theater, there would be no deception.
The Psychic marks the return of Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman after their spooky stage and screen success Ghost stories. Now the writers-directors and the fearless audience again with loud sounds and sudden light bursts, playing with us to believe but not believe the words from the grave.
One minute, he exposes Sheila as a fraud, trying to recover £500,000, and the next, he tricks us into believing there might be something to this spiritual lark. In the leading role, Eileen Walsh does an excellent job of abandoning the bright pink-jacketed entertainer and matching her heels with a strong bite, drawing on the received wisdom of 10 generations of fortune tellers.
Where Ghost Stories was an all-male story, this is a female-centric tale in which 18-year-old Tara (Megan Placito) tries to imbibe Sheila’s wisdom, while matriarch Rosa (Frances Barber) does everything in her power to destroy the daughter she studied for. The text is full of language presentersfrom those who do not know their love, I know from those who do not know, because of the new knowledge that has been created.
Dyson and Nyman have asked the audience to keep the twists and turns of the plot a secret. This is clear in the first half where nothing is visible. But secondly, the mind dries up. With little to surprise us beyond the dramatic tone of voice, the play veers into Victorian melodrama: more dialogue, less conflict and an unpredictable ending.
