Apex Predator at Hampstead Theatre review – toothless new drama

There are a lot of vampires around at the moment. Scary ones in Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu in cinema; laughable ones at the Menier Chocolate Factory’s Dracula: A Comedy of Terrors.  And in John Donnelly’s new play, ones who may or may not be a figment of the imagination of a woman suffering from post-natal depression.

There’s an odd but oddly persuasive idea lurking at the heart of Apex Predator: that humankind’s destruction of the planet is sucking it dry, like the vampires of old drained their victims of life. But this notion is almost swamped by about 15 other dramas, all fidgeting for space inside the play’s loose black cloak.

It begins with Mia (Sophie Melville) encountering male aggression while waiting in a bus queue with her five-month old baby in her arms. Melville, such a vital actress, makes the character full of edgy unhappiness and biting wit. It’s clear that her husband Joe (Bryan Dick) is worried about her mental state, because he drops dark hints about a previous “incident” and suggests she gets out more. “I tried going to one of those mums’ groups,” Mia explains. “But it’s full of mums.”

Then there’s their 11-year-old son Alex, prone to wandering around in scary masks and interrupting his parents’ tense conversations, who has possibly killed the class gerbil. And his art teacher Ana, blonde, red-lipped and charismatic, who offers to breast feed Mia’s baby for her. All of these characters are introduced in short scenes of shifting location (Tom Piper’s set makes clever use of screens and scaffolding) and tone that veers from wildly from sit-com humorous to the supernatural and sinister.

Christopher Shutt’s clanging sound design and eerie lighting from Jack Knowles emphasise the latter, while the dialogue jumps around from building up the tension and the thematic concerns, to offering jokes about marking and Mumsnet. The tension is ratcheted further by the unlikely plot device of making Mia’s husband an undercover tech expert who is diving into vampire-themed chatrooms in an attempt to help the police solve a serious of mysterious murders.

The most interesting scenes are those that teeter on the balance of Mia’s mind, suggesting her anxiety and sleeplessness may be making her think she is a vampire – rather than the attentions of Ana who seems rather too interested in the entire family setup. But these are undermined by the fact that she is constantly carrying drama’s most unrealistic model baby. Any sense of naturalism is undermined by the inert doll in her arms.

Blanche McIntyre’s direction doesn’t impose any overall tone, though the performances are consistently lively, holding the attention even when things become so preposterous that it’s hard to care. Laura Whitmore is both predatory and kindly as the mysterious teacher who utters lines such as “I once stood in half an inch of piss while a man called Burbage spoke lines so beautiful, they silenced the drunks” which is answered by Mia’s smart “Well I saw a class Sugababes line-up at the O2”, but the potential of the collision of their worlds is never imaginatively explored.

Donnelly has come up with a fascinating notion, but somehow never gives himself enough space to explore the universe he creates, rushing instead from scene to scene in search of thrills.