Cynthia Erivo's Dracula Show Overwhelmed by Tech-Heavy Staging
Cynthia Erivo, the acclaimed star of Wicked, finds herself run ragged in a new one-woman adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula at London's Noël Coward Theatre. Despite her formidable vocal power and undeniable charisma, Erivo's performance is lost amid an overwrought, technology-heavy staging that prioritises cinematic effects over theatrical intimacy.
A 21st-Century Take on a Gothic Classic
Victorian author Bram Stoker penned his chilling masterwork Dracula while working gruelling shifts at the West End's Lyceum Theatre, drawing inspiration from his own life experiences. Staged just a few streets away, this bracingly modern adaptation by director Kip Williams would likely be unrecognisable to Stoker, though he might respect the sheer effort involved. Erivo attempts to embody all 23 characters in the tale, hounded by film cameras, corralled by stage crew, and oppressed by blinding white lights.
Williams employs the same cinematic toolbox he used for the sumptuous 2024 hit The Picture of Dorian Gray, starring Sarah Snook. However, in this production, the approach feels effortful rather than fluent. Erivo appears too stressed to offer more than occasional glimpses of Dracula's coolly gothic allure, leaving the audience with a disjointed experience.
An Odd Theatrical Experience
Watching this take on Dracula is an odd experience, even for those accustomed to avant-garde theatre's love affair with screens. A huge, cinema-style display hangs over the stage, showing footage shot on the fly by technicians scurrying below. Many audience members likely attended hoping to see Erivo in the flesh, but they are often disappointed. She is frequently barely visible as stagehands change her wigs or camera operatives wheel around her for close-ups.
Instead, Williams directs attention to the big screen, where Erivo interacts with pre-filmed versions of herself portraying other roles, such as truth-seeking lawyer Jonathan Harker, his brave wife Mina, the troubled Lucy, and the ludicrously wigged vampire expert Van Helsing. The production opens in the dimly-lit gloom of Dracula's castle before transporting viewers to the dazzling brightness of the Whitby seaside, where Mina grapples with her friend's sudden sickness and strange wanderings.
Thematic Disconnect and Queer Metaphors
Williams' methodology in Dorian Gray and its follow-up The Maids focused on creating beautiful, treacherous surfaces that critique an image-obsessed society. Here, the thematic fit between story and approach is less obvious. Instead, Williams seems primarily interested in excavating the queer metaphor encoded in Stoker's tale. He emphasises how characters are irresistibly drawn to Dracula, even though he will destroy them—a reflection of Stoker's own life, as he was widely believed to be a closeted gay or bisexual man navigating homophobic London.
It is refreshing to see Erivo own her queerness on stage, whether licking her lips lasciviously as a lace-decked Lucy in sexual thrall to an androgynous Dracula or strutting confidently in a masculine vest with silver chains. In the final scenes, she unleashes her ethereal voice to haunting, vulpine effect, finally embodying Dracula's power on a bare stage, unobscured by technology and crowds.
A Glimpse of What Could Have Been
These moments offer a glimpse of how much better this show could be if it called on Erivo's formidable vocal power and charisma rather than testing her memory. Williams has taken a completist approach to Dracula, cramming in all the novel's twists and turns even when they add little to the experience. Erivo's delivery is often halting, with rumours of an autocue used in early performances. This is understandable, given that she is forced to plough through Stoker's long narrations and dash from mark to mark, barely pausing for breath.
A solo show should be a chance for an actor to showcase their abilities and personality. Instead, Williams subjects Erivo to the theatrical equivalent of the beep test—the terror of school PE lessons—in service of an overly elaborate production that fails to satisfy as either a play or a film. Yet, there is a lethal potency to the moments where she makes this Dracula her own: a Nigerian-accented, androgynous monster in a blood-red wig who understands that love makes people vulnerable.
Dracula runs at the Noël Coward Theatre in London until 30 May, leaving audiences to ponder what might have been if the production had trusted its star's talents over technological gimmickry.
