Paranormal Activity: The Stage Play
- 10 hours ago
- 4 min read
Theatrical Review, No Spoilers
Horror on stage is a rare beast, and finding a production that actually works is a genuine rarity. Between the massive scale of an ornate auditorium and the inevitable chorus of coughs from the audience, capturing the intimate dread of the cinema is a significant challenge. Horror films dictate exactly where and when you look. They use quick cuts and invasive close-ups to manufacture a reaction. In live theatre, you are on your own.
The new production of Paranormal Activity at A.C.T. in San Francisco understands these hurdles. It throws out the cinematic playbook and rewrites the rules of the genre for the stage. Through a combination of aggressive sound design, a massive set that mimics reality with unsettling accuracy, and genuinely unexpected effects, the production delivers a nightmare in real time. We aren't just casual observers. We are an audience trapped in our seats, forced to witness the impossible happen right in front of us.
The sound design by Gareth Fry takes its inspiration directly from the film’s "thrum." This low-frequency hum is something your body feels before your ears hear it. In the cavernous A.C.T. theater, every inch of the space seems to tremble. The floors, the seats, and the walls vibrate until you feel it from your fingertips to your spine. It is inescapable. Coupled with sudden loud noises, unexplained thumps, and disembodied voices, the entire aural assault is calibrated to ensure peak anxiety.
You feel it from your fingertips to your spine.
This house certainly feels haunted. The set by Fly Davis is a massive, split-level manifestation complete with ceilings, individual rooms, and its own embedded lighting. It is like looking at a real house where every detail is thoughtfully executed. The downstairs is an open kitchen and living room with a large window. Passing cars cast light beams that create a constant, shifting show of shadows across the space. A staircase leads upstage to a second-floor landing with a door to an unseen nursery, a full bedroom, and a bathroom. The place is ordinarily domestic yet dimly lit and full of nooks and crannies. My inner horror aficionado had me constantly scanning those impossibly dark corners for shadows shaped like people. The play is full of them. They are fleeting, unsettling, and perfectly placed. I starting doubting my own eyes.
Written by Levi Holloway and directed by immersive theater pioneer Felix Barrett of Punchdrunk fame, the play pivots from the found-footage gimmick of the films to a visceral physical trap. While the title carries the weight of a massive franchise, this is, thankfully, an original story. We meet Lou, played with a frantic, fragile energy by Cher Álvarez. She is a woman with a tragic past whose parents died in a horrific house fire. Travis A. Knight plays James, her doubtful but supportive husband. He moved the couple from Chicago to London to escape their history, but you can’t outrun your own baggage. A podcast clairvoyant, the medium Mrs. Cotgrave (played by Kate Fry), tells them early on that houses are not haunted. People are.
Houses are not haunted. People are.
The performances are equally impressive. Álvarez delivers a reverse arc that goes from manic to defeated as she becomes a doorway for a malevolent entity. Knight shifts from a smug nonbeliever to a man paralyzed by full panic. The narrative stakes rise significantly once we learn that the haunting isn't random. This couple is hiding secrets from their time in Chicago. Shannon Cochran plays James's religiously inclined mother, Carolanne, with a disquieting layer of maternal control. When she finally shows up at the house, you really wish she hadn't.
Then, there is the actual paranormal activity. Masterful illusions designed by Chris Fisher anchor the experience, including one specific moment that caused the entire audience to gasp in unison. The energy from that scare shattered through the darkened theater like a clap of thunder. I was among the shocked. During intermission, the crowd was buzzing, trying to reverse-engineer the physics of such an incredible effect. Every other blink-and-you-miss-it instance made you acutely aware that you were witnessing live events in real time. Without a camera to tell you where or when to look, the maddening responsibility of observation was yours alone. This is the raw immediacy of live theater. Film simply cannot reproduce it.
The show runs two hours and twenty minutes including the intermission. It would have been far more effective as a lean, ninety-minute sprint. A break only serves to bleed out the carefully built tension and momentum. But I understand the reality. You have to sell those cocktails and peanuts. Trimming the early first-act banter, a lingering curse from the film franchise, would have helped the pace significantly. There is also a bizarre moment in the bathroom that felt entirely unnecessary. It added nothing of substance and mostly just left the audience chittering about whether it was real or not.
This play frazzled my hardened nerves.
I worry for the season ticket holders who wandered in without knowing they were signing up for. Horror is a specific calling. It is usually reserved for those of us hardened by years in the dark with an emotional support bag of popcorn and a scary movie watching blanket. One can only wonder what it did to the bluehair patrons in the mezzanine. Still, for those who want to feel their heart rate spike in a crowded room, this is a masterclass in stagecraft. It proves that some ghosts don't need a camera to be seen. They just need an audience.
Images above from the Washington, D.C., Los Angeles, and Chicago productions.
February 19 - March 22 at A.C.T. in San Francisco
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