Cynthia Erivo in Dracula at Noël Coward Theatre in London review: Bloody brilliant 

In 2023, this reviewer saw the extraordinarily talented Andrew Scott in his universally praised one-man Chekhov play Vanya. Three years later, I can finally admit: I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I respected what I saw. I’m glad I saw it. But the thought of seeing it again conjures thoughts of the force-watching scene in A Clockwork Orange. And there was no interval.

So, the philistine in me approached the Noël Coward Theatre with trepidation last night, to catch Cynthia Erivo play 23 characters in an interval-free stage adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The ambition of the proposal, I figured, was such that anti-Wicked minimalism around the performance for balance was inevitable, and Erivo slipping onto a bare stage to little fanfare in understated black vest and trousers, audience still mid-conversation as she did so, did little to assuage my fears. 

What hardcore theatre experience awaited, I wondered? A two-hour, five-minute recital? A glorified rehearsal? Nicole Kidman in Dogville? Then I clocked the cameras.

What a rug-pull from director Kip Williams. Quite what a chorus of ever-moving video equipment and giant screens has to do with a story set in 1897, we don’t know, but it upends expectations so completely that it’s borderline cathartic. What ensues is a constant, meticulously choreographed dance between star and machine, plus the hardest-working stagehands in theatre history and a strapping but elegant cameraman visibly exhilarated to be part of the performance.

Such technical trickery adds unimaginable complexity for all involved. (Some 14 people took the final bow, for the record.) It’ll be distracting for some, as it certainly was in last year’s Opening Night, and I’ll admit it took me a while to stop looking for glitches in Dracula. But the powerhouse acting coming from a singular source eventually overshadows everything else anyway.

Cynthia’s authoritative, rapid-fire delivery – for large swatches of time, she barely stops for breath, yet never sounds breathless, oscillating between Nigerian and Yorkshire accents and more besides – of dense material is always accessible, and never boring. Personally, I can overlook the s**t-stirring headlines about teleprompters, occasional fluffed lines and relief afforded by pre-recorded segments: it’s exciting to witness a person push themselves to the edge of their capabilities like this. 

Her male characters are breathtakingly good, not to mention fantastically costumed – whether rocking a blonde moustache and tailoring as Quincey Morris or Gandalf-ready white hair and beard as Van Helsing, you can’t take your eyes off her – but the gear-change that really struck me was the innocence she exudes when assuming the guise of a younger person.

My only real criticism of the show is unfortunately quite an important one. While the other vampires Cynthia portrays are skin-crawlingly macabre – all seductive smiles, unearthly giggling and bizarre body language – our red-wigged Dracula himself is oddly underwhelming. Brief footage of Cynthia with a Count Orlock-style hunched body and penetrating stare was, then, a little agonising to behold.

In any other production, this might’ve been a fatal flaw. But in Dracula, so teeming with passion and creativity, it’s merely a drop of blood mottling the water. Music video-ready light boxes, umpteen costume changes, a confetti-snow finale, even a little singing: Dracula is like an overblown Beyoncé concert, and ironically, for that reason, might just get the masses briefly engaged in theatre again. Disagree? Bite me!

Dracula is on now at London’s Noël Coward Theatre.