At London’s Noël Coward Theatre, a new “Dracula” has sunk its teeth into one of horror’s most familiar myths, and the results are anything but predictable. Led by Tony-winning powerhouse Cynthia Erivo in the title role, this Time Out-spotlighted production turns Bram Stoker’s nocturnal predator into a vehicle for contemporary anxieties about power, desire, and identity. As classic capes and cobwebs give way to stripped-back staging and psychological tension, the play asks whether the real terror lies in the supernatural, or in the human hunger that has always driven this story’s darkest moments. This review explores how successfully the production reimagines a cultural icon for a modern, global audience.
Cynthia Erivo reinvents Dracula with a magnetic and emotionally charged performance
Erivo’s Count is less a caped spectre than a charismatic disruptor, a seductive force who prowls the stage with the certainty of someone who has outlived rules, genders and empires. Stripped of cliché, she builds the character from the inside out: a war-weary survivor whose hunger is as psychological as it is supernatural. Director Marianne Elliott leans into Erivo’s capacity for stillness; the most chilling moments are not the bloodletting set-pieces but the silences in which she studies her prey,eyes glittering with a cocktail of pity,rage and calculation. Her vocal work is equally precise, each line landing with the controlled intensity of a singer who understands breath as dramaturgy, turning even a simple greeting into a power play.
- Presence: a calm, coiled physicality that makes every entrance feel like an event.
- Voice: low, measured and unexpectedly tender, weaponised in sudden flashes of fury.
- Chemistry: electric with both victims and adversaries, blurring seduction and threat.
| Aspect | Impact on Audience |
|---|---|
| Emotional range | Shifts sympathy toward the so‑called monster |
| Physical detail | Every gesture hints at ancient fatigue |
| Modern edge | Makes the myth feel urgent and political |
What makes the performance so arresting is how it reframes the power dynamics of the story. Erivo leans into vulnerability without softening the character’s brutality, treating immortality as a trauma rather than a superpower. In scenes opposite the morally righteous Van Helsing, her quiet, almost wounded reactions suggest someone condemned to a role written by other people, other eras. The result is a portrait of monstrosity as a social construct, in which the sharpest bite is psychological. This is a star turn that doesn’t just dominate the stage; it interrogates who gets to be feared, who gets to be believed, and whose desires history has chosen to call dangerous.
Noël Coward Theatre transformed into a gothic dreamscape of blood light and shadow
Under Ersan Mondtag’s direction, the West End playhouse becomes an expressionist canvas, its familiar proscenium swallowed by pools of crimson and impenetrable black. Light slashes across the stage like a blade, isolating Cynthia Erivo in stark chiaroscuro while the rest of the cast haunt the periphery as silhouettes and fragments. Vast, shifting curtains suggest anything from castle ramparts to hospital wards, and a lattice of ironwork arches overhead like the ribs of some slumbering beast. The result is less conventional period horror, more fever-dream installation piece, where every corridor seems to lean inward and every doorway threatens to close like a jaw.
- Lighting: jagged washes of blood-red and sickly purple
- Scenography: skeletal staircases, warped archways, fog-choked depths
- Sound: sub-bass rumbles and echoing heartbeats under whispered prayers
- Costume detail: starched Victorian silhouettes stained by modern punk edges
| Element | Effect on Audience |
|---|---|
| Blood-red backlighting | Heightens dread before key entrances |
| Shadow-drenched balconies | Creates constant sense of unseen watchers |
| Monolithic black doors | Turn scene changes into ominous rituals |
Modern horror meets classic text in a boldly feminist reimagining that mostly lands
What director Elena Markova attempts here is nothing less than a genre splice: a sleek, A24-style nightmare grafted onto Stoker’s epistolary spine, with Cynthia Erivo’s Jonathan Harker reimagined as a Black, queer solicitor whose gaze reframes every patriarchal assumption in the novel. Gothic bric-a-brac remains – crumbling Carpathian stone, candlelit crosses, a satisfyingly over-engineered coffin – but the real horrors are gaslighting, medical misogyny and the violence of Victorian respectability. Erivo’s presence forces the text to answer for itself, and when it does, the production hums with a prickly, insurgent energy; Mina‘s diary becomes a manifesto, Lucy’s “waywardness” reads as protest, and even the Count’s seductions feel like a grotesque echo of workplace harassment rather than supernatural lust.
The production’s feminist conviction is clearest in its details, some sharp as a stake, others blunter than intended:
- Reassigned power lines – Famous monologues originally spoken by male characters are handed to the women, reshaping familiar beats without feeling like tokenistic swaps.
- Visceral body horror – Blood, birth and change are staged as explicitly female experiences, leaning into the politics of who gets to survive in a male-designed world.
- Occasional didacticism – A few on-the-nose speeches stall the pace, spelling out themes already etched in Erivo’s performance and the design’s imagery.
| Feminist focus | Bold,pointed,sometimes heavy-handed |
| Horror imagery | Inventive but uneven in payoff |
| Classic text fidelity | Respectful,with charged deviations |
Who should see this Dracula and why it is worth catching before the end of its run
If you grew up on Hammer horror or Bram Stoker’s novel,this production is a chance to watch your expectations get deliciously dismantled. Traditionalists will still find the gothic trappings they crave – mist,candlelight,an ominous soundscape – but they’re refracted through a contemporary lens that speaks directly to audiences interested in gender,race and power. It’s especially compelling for theatre-goers who follow Cynthia Erivo’s career: watching her pivot from soulful musical dynamo to ice‑cool predator is a rare, live-only event. Casual London visitors looking for one standout West End memory will also find this an accessible, self-contained night out, with enough spectacle to satisfy even those who don’t usually flock to straight plays.
- Fans of Erivo – here for a once-in-a-run star turn
- Horror aficionados – seeking a fresh, smart spin on a legend
- Students & theatre buffs – curious about form-bending classic adaptations
- Design obsessives – drawn by bold staging, light and sound
| Why go now? | Final weeks heighten the urgency and energy onstage |
| Star factor | Erivo’s performance is tailored to this space and unlikely to be replicated |
| Conversation value | A production people are actively debating – best seen before it’s folklore |
| Rarity | A major, big-house Dracula led by a woman of color is still uncommon |
With its closing date looming, there’s also the thrill of witnessing a show in its late-run sweet spot, when performances have sharpened into something almost telepathic.Word of mouth is driving a palpable buzz in the auditorium, and that kind of atmosphere can’t be streamed or revived on demand. If you care about being part of the ongoing story of how the West End reimagines its canon – who gets to be monstrous, who gets to be desired, who gets to survive – this is the moment to catch it, before it retreats back into the theatrical shadows and becomes the stuff of “you had to be there” legend.
Wrapping Up
As the curtain falls on this bold new Dracula,what lingers is not just the story’s familiar chill,but the clarity of its contemporary bite. Cynthia Erivo’s commanding presence, the production’s stripped-back aesthetic and its pointed reframing of power and desire collectively signal a classic being actively interrogated rather than reverently preserved.
This is not a definitive Dracula-nor does it try to be. Instead, it’s a vivid, unsettling conversation with a myth that refuses to die, one that asks who gets to wield fear, and who has spent a century being asked to embody it. At the Noël Coward Theatre, the vampire tale feels sharply, sometimes uncomfortably, alive again, and that in itself is a measure of its success.
