The Demon Bride's haunting themes
WITH characteristic panache, theatre-maker Louis Viljoen has devised a wholesome antidote to the wedding fever that has been gripping the planet: The Demon Bride, with its blend of cynicism, comedy of situation and farce, all packaged in outré horror, is guaranteed to banish sentimental romance in a heartbeat – and it premiered three days before the royal wedding.
All the clichés of the horror genre abound, starting with wisps of ghostly vapour wafting out from under the curtain, a gloomy chamber, a prefatory invocation and occult symbols traced on the floor, lurid lighting and eyes glowing like coals in a bridal portrait, to mention but a few. Just as the audience is becoming deliciously apprehensive, the sinister individual who appears ahead of the main action suddenly encounters opposition from… the door, which prevents his exit in the tradition of all good farce. That sets the tone for the rest of the show.
The plot is relatively uncomplicated. A young woman (Jamie) has attended the winelands wedding of her best friend, Amelia, and is occupying a cottage on the estate with her partner, Gary. Unknown to them, the cottage is haunted by the spirit of a jilted bride, and that spirit is seeking a succubus. Enough said.
Apart from this scenario worthy of Mary Shelley, the main delight of The Demon Bride is the vivid dialogue igniting the characters’ interaction. In true Viljoen style, it is heavily salted with obscenities and remarks calculated to subvert political correctness, but beneath this vicious veneer, there are gems of clear-eyed wisdom regarding social convention, particularly with regard to love and marriage.
Each protagonist has cause for discontent, so the quartet of bride, bridegroom, best friend and best friend’s partner are conflict-habituated, none more so than the latter pair. Since the action takes place on a wine estate, consumption of its product is predictably robust, leading to violent tirades and acerbic repartee as tongues are lubricated by alcohol and inhibitions are shed.
The ensemble is excellent, but if an individual performer had to be identified, it would be Flanders, whose mercurial portrayal of less-thanradiant brides, both real and spectral, steals the show. Between Rocco Pool’s well-conceived set, James Webb’s soundscape and lighting from Benjamin du Plessis and Sean Whitehead, the aura of gothic horror is effortlessly sustained throughout.
Wedding or pre-divorce party? After all the fun, pseudo-terror and intelligent satire of this show, nobody really cares.