Supernatural goings-on and mysterious disappearances are set against a backdrop of 80s pop in The Boline Inn, a truly bizarre horror comedy at The Hope Theatre. Written and created by the cast (the script is from Eilis Mulholland while Marley Craze and Natasha Jobst direct), the play’s distinct tone and offbeat humour will have its fans, but it is unlikely to have broad appeal.
In a deliberately vague setting (somewhere in the backwaters of the UK, sometime in the 1980s), determined protagonist Jane arrives at the spooky Boline Inn. The reason for her visit, a mystery she is hoping to solve, only emerges later in the play, but in the meantime we are introduced to the inn’s eerie gang of residents. There is the abrasive and initially unwelcoming Betty, and the elderly soothsayer Meg. There are two friendly Scottish women, Val and Caroline, while the matriarch of them all is the ethereal Althea. These women, anachronistic in both mannerisms and dress, welcome Jane into their home as she pursues answers to some burning questions and transforms herself along the way.
The Boline Inn is deliberately aiming for a very particular tone: unsettling, uneasy and with an eccentric sense of humour. To the creators’ credit, it nails this atmosphere. The gorgeously decorated set, provided in part by Karina Blackhurst, is a clutter of mismatched, antiquated furniture and bric-a-brac. The sound and lighting design, from Joseph Staines and Laurel Marks respectively, are well done, and Hannah Wickham’s entirely recycled costumes are a treat.
But within this effectively crafted world, The Boline Inn struggles to give us much substance to cling onto. The central story is thin, not really emerging until almost halfway through the play. Scenes feel like non-sequiturs; plot points do not really follow one another with any logic and there are some jarring tonal shifts from horror to comedy to musical interludes. There is a sense that this is deliberate, the aim to discomfit the audience and dial up the surrealism, but the end result is that there just is not enough to hang onto to make the play particularly compelling. It is also highly unconventional, which, even if purposeful, requires a lot of tolerance from the audience when they are sitting through numerous scenes of folk-style harmonising, dancing rituals and the umpteenth Madonna song.
In non-conventional theatre the line between the sublime and the ridiculous is not always clear, and some might find The Boline Inn falls into the former camp; they might be wooed by the ethereal tone and the unorthodox humour. But for most audiences the prioritisation of vibes over narrative logic will be a bridge too far.
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