On the hottest day of the year, a trip to the theatre promises the possibility of something electrifying. Sadly, Dark of the Moon, now playing at Charing Cross Theatre, struggles to generate even a flicker of genuine heat. Billed as a new musical, this adaptation of the 1940s play by Howard Richardson and William Berney arrives with an intriguing premise and a strong creative pedigree, yet proves curiously inert in execution.
The story, adapted by Jonathan Prince with music and lyrics by Lindy Robbins, Dave Bassett and Steve Robson, draws on the folk tale roots of The Ballad of Barbara Allen. It follows John, the Witch Boy, who falls in love with the human Barbara Allen. Granted human form by the ominous Conjur Man, John is promised a life with Barbara, provided they remain faithful. It is a narrative that will feel familiar, echoing other tales of forbidden love that bridge two worlds, and it carries the potential for both romance and tragedy.
Yet despite this promising foundation, the piece falters almost immediately. The book lacks both coherence and subtlety. Plot points are introduced and abandoned with little care, leaving noticeable gaps in logic. Attempts at humour rarely land, and when they do, they feel tonally misplaced. Dialogue often leans into the obvious, as though determined to underline every supernatural element for the audience. When John demonstrates lingering magical powers, characters repeatedly gesture towards the idea of witchcraft with a knowing air, as if the audience might somehow miss the point.
Direction from Georgie Rankcom further compounds the confusion. There is a striking disconnect between the tone suggested by the script and what unfolds on stage. The portrayal of the witches is particularly perplexing. Initially ghostlike, they gradually morph into something closer to shrieking banshees, with little consistency or clarity in their purpose. The result is a production that feels oddly mismatched, as if several different interpretations are competing at once. The performers commit admirably, but are often left stranded within these erratic choices, their efforts swallowed by excessive wailing and exaggerated movement.
Musically, the show proves equally uneven. The score aims to fuse Appalachian folk with rock, reflecting the dual worlds at the heart of the story. In theory, this is a compelling idea. In practice, it rarely works. Early on, a gentle folk opening number establishes a pleasing sense of place, only to be abruptly disrupted by aggressive rock interjections that jar rather than enhance. This pattern repeats throughout the evening. Just as the audience begins to settle into a melodic groove, the score pivots sharply, undermining its own atmosphere. Rock music can thrive in musical theatre, but here it feels forced, as though inserted without sufficient consideration for tone or narrative flow. Sound balance issues only exacerbate the problem, making some of the louder moments actively uncomfortable.
There are, however, bright spots. Lauren Jones brings warmth and emotional sincerity to Barbara Allen, delivering vocals of impressive clarity and control. She finds a believable heart within the material, grounding the story when it threatens to drift entirely. Glenn Adamson, as John, offers a likeable and committed performance, and the chemistry between the two leads provides fleeting glimpses of what the show might have been.
Dark of the Moon is a case of strong ideas undone by inconsistent execution. With a muddled book, an unfocused directorial approach and a score that struggles to reconcile its competing influences, it never quite finds its footing. It is an ambitious project, certainly, but one that feels underdeveloped in almost every aspect. On a sweltering evening in London, audiences may find themselves more grateful for the theatre’s air conditioning than for what is happening on stage.
Listings and ticket information can be found here
