Inside No 9: Stage Fright, Wyndham’s review - uneven fright-night from the fêted duo

How excited Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton must have been to learn that the venue for their Inside No 9 stage show was haunted, by an actress killed onstage there in 1921 when a death scene went fatally wrong. How very them.

“Bloody Belle”, dressed in white and doused in blood, duly makes regular angry appearances in their two-hour show, weaving her way niftily into a rehearsal of the same play that supposedly did for Belle, Terror in the Asylum, about a mad homicidal doctor with a decapitated wife. Naturally, nothing is straightforward about this rehearsal, or many other elements in the show, though strict instructions from the writers forbid reviews to contain anything resembling a spoiler. 

It’s enough to say that Inside No 9 fans will get what they expect: some ingenious plotting, touches of grotesque grand guignol, dodgy humour, great character acting and knowing references from the TV show’s back catalogue. (Welcome back the armoire from “Sardines”, the show’s opening episode in 2014.)

What’s new here is the scope of the piece. The show’s 30-minute episodes worked wonders at focusing the writing on essentials: out popped a miraculous flow of inventive little gems that, inter alia, examined human foibles and their impact, often with a paranormal edge, performed by two actors with every colour on their palette, from hilariously vile to sad and tragic. Excellent supporting casts added to the richness of the mix.

Now the terrain has expanded, and the main narrative arc is lengthier. Explaining what this is will bring the No 9 police to my door, but suffice to say, there is a theme tying start to finish, and it is germinated in the opening scene, which is essentially a rerun of “Bernie Clifton’s Dressing Room” from season four, in which the comedy duo known as Cheese and Crackers reunite after 30 years. This is one of the most poignant playlets in the pack, and front-loading it into the show is a risk that I am not sure pays off, however much it may be needed thematically.

Especially as the actual opening scene of the evening — after a dramatic, very loud chord that will make people jump in their seats — is a sparkling piece of writing masquerading as the standard theatre warning about turning off all mobile devices (Shearsmith and Pemberton add a surprise extra warning as a postscript). This is the pair at the top of their game, aided by a superb Anna Francolini in the first of a clutch of great turns, as a super-snob with a glass-shattering voice who is taking her ancient father to see Hamlet. 

Moving from this to Cheese and Crackers necessarily slows the pace and emotional levels right down. The comedy becomes strained as Pemberton’s Len (pictured above) starts doing some of the gags and routines that were the act’s staples. They aren’t just antiques from a different era of comedy, they aren’t that good, as Shearsmith’s Tommy knows. It’s a dollop of pathos — and lame jokes — too far, too soon in the proceedings. 

Things get jollier when the bungling burglars from “A Quiet Night In” are introduced and a guest star turns up. On opening night this was Alexander Armstrong, who dutifully played daft parlour games with his captors, like talking in a Belfast accent. It’s a gimmick that goes right back to the Right Size’s 2001 hit The Play What I Wrote, with its nightly starry guests. It will give the writers a daily workout, too, creating extra ad hoc material, as Pemberton’s character has to play charades with Shearsmith’s to establish the name of the hidden guest, without mentioning his or her name — an edict from their invisible boss, who phones in his orders: cue for a string of minor gags. But the guest spot seems an idea the piece doesn’t really need. 

The second half picks up the pace, when what turns out to be a rehearsal for Terror in the Asylum begins. (Best to check what trepanning is before you leave home so you know what to expect.) Shearsmith is outstanding in this section, moving from self-dismemberment to a pitch-perfect rendition of Tom Lehrer’s “The Elements” song, and on to appearing as Marcus, the director of the rehearsal. (The production’s actual director is the estimable Simon Evans, seen on-screen in the BBC’s Staged.) And Francolini (pictured above, right, with l-r Bhav Joshi, Steve Pemberton and MIranda Hennessy) delivers another great pair of gorgons in the shape of the doctor’s Mrs Danvers of a nurse, as well as the self-important actress playing her. 

Throughout, the theatre industry is up for a roasting; even the show’s own producer, Phil McIntyre, is a target. Branagh’s Lear, bar prices, 2:22 A Ghost Story — all have a barb aimed in their direction. The production also uses the now-popular technique of getting a cast member to film what’s happening onstage and then projecting it onto a large screen, though I doubt modish directors like Ivo van Hove and Katie Mitchell have ever knowingly employed what may be a ghost to do this. 

When the camera seems to take on a life of its own, this is a seriously creepy moment, something the piece needs more of. It’s all very well to gibe at 2:22, but it was actually more shocking than Stage Fright, which I never expected to say. Pemberton and Shearsmith are treasurable talents, but they can afford not to be amiable nice guys now. Their audience wants to go home ingeniously scared.

Inside No 9: Stage Fright at Wyndham’s until 5 April

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