It's autumn, the time when the line between the real, the was-real and the not real sometimes becomes very blurry indeed. To mark the season, The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis brings us "Angel Street". Or, just to get things off to a nicely unsure start, "Angel Street (Gaslight)". The play, which opened in London with the single word, became "Angel Street" when it moved to Broadway. The Ingrid Bergman/Charles Boyer film, just to fog things up a bit more, was "Gaslight".
And the gaslights in a London townhouse, circa 1880, are a key element in this mystery. Inhabited by a couple who bought it six months ago, Bella and Jack Manningham, it doesn't seem to have brought any happiness to them. Indeed, the household has come under increasing attention as Bella, alas, seems headed to some sort of psychiatric episode, behaving erratically, forgetting things – or is she perhaps lying? Jack, while admittedly a product of his time, is, even by those standards, behaving in a – here's a good Victorian word – beastly fashion. Sneering and sarcastic, demeaning and threatening, even before he's launched into that mode in the opening scene, it's clear Bella is afraid and defensive. Her mother died insane, and Jack brings that into the dialogue early and often, or at least often enough.
The words "gaslight" as a verb and "gaslighting" as a gerund have now entered into the language. so I'm not spoiling things to say that Jack is trying to push Bella around the bend. Or at least near enough to it that whatever the laws and custom were on such a thing that he can put her away without difficulty. The household staff, a housekeeper, Elizabeth, and a pert maid, Nancy, can only watch. Well, Nancy is interested in more than watching, one realizes quickly.
Jack goes out for a while to his club, and before Bella can retire, there's a man at the door. Who is this man Rough? No idea if he's related to the crime dog of the same name, but he says he's a retired policeman.
Janie Brookshire plays Bella, pale and fragile but still strong enough to be desperate instead of resigned to her fate. It's a tougher role than we realize at first, and Brookshire grabs it with elan. Jack, Clark Scott Carmichael, is so dastardly he manages to elicit a few hisses at his curtain call, but carries his role without having to stoop to histrionics. It's a performance with some carefully nuanced gestures to watch for.
Detective Rough is Geoffrey Wade. He's utterly delicious. Reassuring, energetic, charming, and just a tad eccentric, he owns the stage when he appears, needing only a white horse, perhaps. For those who watch the television show "Homicide Hunter", he's a more polished Joe Kenda. (He also ties for Best Hair in the show with Rachel Kenney's Nancy, whose lovely red hair tempts badboy Jack.)
And to make things even better for this show, the scenic design by Wilson Chin is remarkable, the set going from spookily empty-seeming to almost claustrophobic without moving a single stick of furniture. Peter Sargent's lighting is a key to all this, and Rusty Wandall's sound, including a clock ticking, raises pulses at perfect points. The only real sticking point is that Patrick Hamilton's script is more linear than might be expected. But this isn't, at heart, a murder mystery. It's a psychological thriller, and it does that. In spades.
Angel Street (Gaslight)
through November 8
Repertory Theatre of St. Louis
314-968-4925