★★

“a script that adds in too many complications, subplots and locations”

My first reservation about seeing a staged version of The Monkey’s Paw, was that it’s not an easy story to adapt into a play. Iconic and chilling in its simplicity, the short story, first published in 1902 by W. W. Jacobs, follows an English couple, Mr and Mrs White, who come into possession of a mummified monkey’s paw. The paw grants them three wishes, but each with a horrifying catch. Their wish for £200 is granted through compensation for their son’s workplace death; his mother’s wish for him to return becomes a knock at their front door, with terrifying implications as to what lurks on the other side.

This play, devised, written and produced by Infinite Space Theatre, opens with that climactic scene: Jenny White, played by Josephine Rogers, clutches the monkey’s paw, desperate to open the door to her son; John White, played by Steven Maddocks, knows better, and looks on in horror. As the play winds back to the beginning, you wonder how Infinite Space Theatre, and director Leah Townley, have managed to pad out this straightforward fable about being careful what you wish for to the 80 minute runtime, especially with only two actors on stage. The answer is a script that adds in too many complications, subplots and locations for the simple, static set and limited props to handle, creating a sense of confusion that sullies the play’s potential to move or terrify.

It’s a shame that the action falls victim to awkward staging, because the set itself is original and well-designed by Hannah Williams, making great use of Hope Theatre’s small space by furnishing two perpendicular walls with the Whites’ washing lines and curtains. The sound design and lighting design are also well-executed by Peter Michaels and Alex Forey: the change in atmosphere at the paw’s first granting of a wish is particularly well realised, although it would have been nice for the knocking at the door during the play’s opening and climax to be done live, to add more of a meta creep-factor.

Other plots are weaved in to the original tale to add meat, including an alternative origin story for the monkey’s paw, discovered inside an anonymous mummified-child whose tomb museum archivist/supervisor John later tracks down in Egypt. We also hear a story of infant death from Jenny’s own childhood: both these additions are clearly supposed to augment the loss of a child at the story’s core, but just give the plot a cobbled-together feel. That being said, the latter is relayed with the most genuine depth and sensitivity of the play, and is Rogers’ best performance moment amid the overall impression that herself and Maddock slip into overacting in order to fill up the small space.

Where the play falls shortest is its interpretation of Herbert, the Whites’ son who falls victim to the paw’s cruel sense of irony. In this play, Herbert is a cloth baby who Jenny becomes attached to after losing two pregnancies, but it’s not immediately clear that boy isn’t real, given the symbolic way Jenny’s genuine miscarriages were represented earlier in the play. When she wishes for the boy to be real, he reemerges as a terrifying-looking puppet, taking a Chucky-style bite out of John’s hand, but otherwise remaining inert, apparently still not a genuine child. When the Whites lose their ‘son’, the prospect of his return, not as in a human corpse, but as a mangled cloth puppet, depletes the sense of horror that the story’s climax relies on. This convoluted change, as well as the awkward, overlong staging of the door-knocking scene itself, is disappointing.

Unfortunately, a bloated plot and some confusing transitions muddy the deep sense of parental loss and visceral horror of the unseen that makes the original story such a bitter and disturbing tale. Perhaps this production proves that ‘The Monkey’s Paw’, like the titular object itself, should be left well alone.

21 ROUND FOR CHRISTMAS at the Park Theatre

★★★★

“There is an ease to the performance that disguises the daunting task of being alone on stage for an hour and a quarter”

There are plenty of theatre shows that pop up at this time of year that like to describe themselves as an ‘alternative’ Christmas gig. Not all live up to the accolade. “21 Round for Christmas” is one that does. Its originality sneaks up on you like the punchline of a shaggy dog story, hiding for much of the time behind the kitchen sink drama of a meandering monologue that, at times, veers as far away from ‘festive’ as the Grinch on speed.

Tracy is holed up in the kitchen, attempting to prepare Christmas Dinner, while a motley crew of assorted members of her extended family are making merry (a loose term) across the hallway. The turkey (and various substitutes to cater for multiple dietary demands) is, literally, left on the back burner. She blames us – the audience – for distracting her and allowing her to unleash her candid and foul-mouthed reminiscences while mother-in-law’s vegan tart burns. She often addresses a photograph stuck to the fridge door – a snapshot of her absent, best friend Jackie. It is the past escapades of the two of them that comprise the bulk of the narrative, the humour and occasional moments of pathos. The anecdotes gush forth, but too often they have little connection to the dramatic frame around which they are structured, and they become off-the-shelf recollections that could fit any scenario.

Cathy Conneff, as Tracy, is brash, profane, unashamed, and wonderfully charismatic. Her natural affinity with the audience gives the character an unaffected authenticity. There is an ease to the performance that disguises the daunting task of being alone on stage for an hour and a quarter. One of a kind, Tracy is also ‘everywoman’ as she unwraps her regrets and throws them onto the pile of spent joys and tribulations like unwanted gifts.

“She has the makings of becoming a seasonal staple”

Conceived in lockdown as part of the Hope@Home series of monologues, writers Matt Ballantyne and Toby Hampton (Hampton also directs) display a sharp insight, but the script is a bit unbalanced. Some yarns are stretched too far while others are left hanging. Alex Forey’s lighting cleverly transports us to past locations in Tracy’s mind while in the here-and-now the set (Hampton, again, with Laurel Marks) evokes the class-defined, London suburban kitchen with precise detail. There is a film maker’s eye at work here, enhancing the realism that Conneff already provides in abundance. Unfortunately, Emily Rose Simons lifelike sound design, that conjures up the rabble next door, doesn’t match the naturalism; which could probably be rectified by a re-jigging of the venue’s sound system.

There are bound to be comparisons to Willy Russell’s ‘Shirley Valentine’, which is no bad thing. Like the eighties’ forerunner, “21 Round for Christmas” (a clumsy title I have to say) has an existential quality, and Conneff skilfully manages to reveal the depth beneath the froth. We are teased in this respect, wanting to know more about Jackie who we learn is lying in a hospital bed at the Royal Marsden. The comedy is dished up loudly and haphazardly, but garnished with intimate detail that almost goes unnoticed. Something in Conneff’s eyes betrays a crisis unfolding. No wonder Tracy ends up hurling the roast potatoes. Her defiance, steeped in humour, has more than a double edge.

We come away feeling like we’ve caught up with an old friend. A bit of a black sheep. Flawed, but somebody we love. In small doses perhaps. For about an hour or so maybe. See you next Christmas, Tracy. We hope we do. She has the makings of becoming a seasonal staple. She can’t please the twenty-one people she has round for Christmas – but she certainly pleases her audience.

THE MONKEY’S PAW

Hope Theatre

★★

“a script that adds in too many complications, subplots and locations”

THE MONKEY’S PAW

Hope Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd October 2025

by Emily Lipscombe

Photography by Cam Harle

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE MONKEY’S PAW

THE MONKEY’S PAW

THE MONKEY’S PAW

21 ROUND FOR CHRISTMAS at the Park Theatre

★★★★

“There is an ease to the performance that disguises the daunting task of being alone on stage for an hour and a quarter”

“She has the makings of becoming a seasonal staple”