Psychic

July 2025: opening night tickets purchased for The Psychic.

April 29th 2026: I took my 86-year-old mother, who had forgotten she was going but quickly put her theatre trousers on. The truth is that she informed me she had tickets for next Wednesday's matinee through the theatre club.

The Psychic kept us both fully engaged all the way through. I was ready to gently draw Mum's attention to the presence of a possible snore by physically notifying her elbow area whenever she dropped off. But it never happened. And it wasn't just the loud jump scares keeping her awake. She was genuinely engaged in the story despite being told by a friend (as she examined the brochure for matinees) that it was a musical.

The title hadn't drawn her in. It does make you wonder why people are drawn to the shows they are drawn to. In my case it was the writers and faith in the back catalogue. But I get that for some, it might be the presence of somebody from Heartbeat (none here as far as I know). But what has been achieved here surpasses niche appeal entirely.

I was aware of the real-life deceptions of fake psychic Sally Morgan, but in the end she was just a starting point, somewhat incidental as the play trips through a variety of genres.

I was at something of a loss when the interval arrived, because the play could have ended right there. It felt entirely complete. So while it had the ingredients of a cliffhanger typical of the thriller genre, it didn't have the vibe of one. I spent the interval reaching back for a few subtle seeds, speculating where the second half would go.

In that way it's something of a show of two halves, each inhabiting a different genre. Twice the bang for your buck you might say.

On seeing a lectern, I even suspected the return of "Professor Wiseman" from Ghost Stories. That would have been a hoot. Incorrect, as it turns out.

Frances Barber emerges as the undisputed star act. I saw her a few years ago in Edinburgh doing a one-woman show with Pet Shop Boys songs. Her performance was sensational. She delivers again here. Sometimes I am almost disappointed by how much a single performer can lift a play. You don't want it to depend on star power but casting is so crucial, and she is extraordinary. Watchability is watchability.

The Psychic may or may not play a trick on you if you are looking for a Derren Brown-style reveal. It's not quite that thing. But I'm not going to tell you what it is to me, any more than I'm going to tell you the plot, a habit that templated theatre reviews peculiarly dwell on.

What I will say is that it had the flavour of the 1970s Hammer House of Horror episodes for me. A supernatural tale, with a twist.

It's TV on stage. Something I am fully on board with and something I think the theatre needs. Television is not the dominant form of our lifetimes for nothing. I've written a couple of modest supernatural plays myself, with pacing drawn from subconsciously acquiring square eyeballs as a kid (Mum's words).

It was opening night, but all the special effects worked perfectly. No noticeable teething problems to forgive.

The title may have put my mother off coming, but she was very glad she went and really enjoyed it. She was happy to live with the fact that it wasn't a musical. After all, no show is perfect.

The Psychic is a multi-genre piece with all the makings of a cast-iron hit.

Just when I had become grimly tired of minimalist theatre, the boys are back in town, and they brought us a show (and a set-sational rod for their own back), paced at the speed of television.

Mum's going again on Wednesday.