In Ghosts, Gary Owen reimagines Henrik Ibsen’s masterpiece as a sharp, funny and gut-punching domestic drama set in a misty, grey corner of modern Wales. The result is a striking tale of reputation, self-preservation and the cost of parental sacrifice, delivered with biting wit and tour de force performances.
Victoria Smurfit plays Helena, a woman calmly orchestrating the opening of a new hospital in honour of her late husband. But behind her crisp white athleisure and carefully constructed smile is a woman haunted – not just by the memory of her abusive spouse, but by the choices she made to protect her son from the same fate. But when that son, Oz (Callum Scott Howells), returns from London full of resentment over his cold and distant childhood, secrets start to unravel at a dizzying pace.
Owen’s script is pacy and electric, efficiently unpacking years of backstory without ever getting bogged down. The dialogue is tight and intelligent, often laugh-out-loud funny, and never afraid to lean into emotional discomfort.
Smurfit gives a masterful performance as the coldly flirtatious and emotionally evasive Helena. She doesn’t play her slow deterioration with hysteria, instead leaning into a quiet, heart-sinking desperation that hits harder. Shame bubbles beneath her polished surface, erupting in bursts of avoidant behaviour as she refuses to acknowledge the horrors she is retelling.
Reuniting with Romeo and Juliet director Rachel O’Riordan, Howells delivers yet another reminder of why he’s one of the most exciting actors on stage today. He commands the space with total ease, the only performer to truly use it to his advantage – slamming, stomping, touching and pacing with restless energy that perfectly captures Oz’s entitlement and need for attention.
There is a risk of such a character falling into cliché – the sulky, privileged heir who blames everything on the fact that mummy didn’t hug him enough – but Howells brings such conviction and specificity that it feels entirely fresh. At times, you don’t know whether you want to slap him or kiss him.
The production’s visual world, however, can’t quite match the calibre of its lead performance. The brutalist grey set, with its minimalist Bauhaus furniture and ominous wallpaper, is meant to evoke a fortress in the clouds – cold, elevated, and cut off from the world. In practice, though, it feels disjointed and skews oddly sci-fi. Stylised lighting choices feel like a similar misstep. The actors already communicate everything we need to feel; bathing the stage in blue to show sadness feels both redundant and jarring.
The supporting cast lands somewhat flaccidly, with one-dimensional performances outshone by the kinetic leads. Patricia Allison and Rhashan Stone, while capable, seem slightly adrift next to the command of Smurfit and Howells. Still, there’s much to admire in this adaptation. The themes are no less potent than in Ibsen’s original: the consequences of silence, the pain of knowing when to lie, and the question of whether love can ever be enough to stop history repeating itself.
Ghosts is a sharp, snappy reimagining of a classic. Gary Owen’s adaptation manages to be both darkly entertaining and emotionally resonant, pulling audiences into its inky depths with witty dialogue and surprising humour.
‘Ghosts’ is on at the Lyric Hammersmith until 10 May; lyric.co.uk
