Edinburgh Fringe 2024
Low Down
A slow-burning horror show with Faustian undertones
Review
We enter the lovely Bedlam Theatre to find four actors, seated on chairs stage left and right facing each other. There are intriguingly two paint pots on the floor. The play begins, stylistically, with all four now standing downstage. We learn that a couple is visiting another couple’s house. The power couple, Colin and Charlotte, are trying for a baby. Their house appears to be something of a showhome and the visiting couple’s curiosity is further piqued by a strange circle.
It appears that Colin and Charlotte participate in some sort of occultist ritual to focus the power of the mind to bring about their innermost desires. Ben and Hannah, slightly overawed, agree to participate, although Hannah is clearly disconcerted and apprehensive.
Subsequently, in an unlikely turn of events, Ben lands a job he imagined to be beyond his capability. He believes it to be the work of the magic rituals and begins to embrace the concept. Hannah is increasingly uncomfortable, but finds herself the outlier of the group, with Ben no longer being supportive of her. Indeed, he begins to lie to her and conceal his continued involvement, a seismic and unwelcome shift in the dynamic of their relationship.
A battle of wills ensues between Hannah and Charlotte and also Hannah and Ben, magnifying her isolation. There is a highly moving scene between Ben and Hannah, in which the silence between them is palpable. Hannah, however, is increasingly manipulated and bullied, but stands up for herself, effectively leaving Ben. Ben, however, harnesses the power of the occult with a devastating denouement.
The ensemble (Conor O’Dwyer, Nicholas Alban, Cara Watson and Rebecca Wilkie) breathe life into this Faustian tale. Alban and especially Wilkie embody a slow-burn menace, O’Dwyer’s decline is rapid, perhaps too much so, while Watson successfully portrays the put-upon voice of dissent. The script – Daniel Williams – is interesting, with perhaps a further layer to be discovered. Liam Rees’ direction is nuanced and clever : the rigid line of cast at outset, the use of paintpots.
While ostensibly an occultist horror story, there are societal strands which bear observation. Ben’s concealment of his activity, his mendacity towards Hannah, the spiral of loss of control and subsequent cognitive dissonance all have parallels in gambling addiction. The dismissal of, isolation of and masked threat of violence towards Hannah mirrors domestic abuse scenes worldwide. Overall, this is an enjoyable Fringe show and comes recommended.
