The third horror show of the season has arrived, with a much more psychological bent to its eerie musings. Penned by playwright Danny Robins, 2:22: A Ghost Story brings four characters together for a sinister housewarming party from Hell. Each player adds a substantial element to the greater narrative at play, eventually culminating in a roaring finale that closes out the show with a monstrous exclamation mark. Punctuated by a bubbly turn from Scream 7’s Anna Camp, 2:22: A Ghost Story brings a cerebral, dread-induced genre play to the stage of the Lucille Lortel Theatre with vengeance.
Deep into every night at exactly 2:22 A.M., creepy things happen at the new home of Jenny (Janine Cephas Jones) and Sam (Finn Jones), including the banging of footsteps and the sound of a man’s chilling cries. Jenny is convinced that ghosts are responsible for the occurrences, making them all the freakier as they could be attached to their baby, Phoebe. Perhaps the former owner’s husband refuses to leave, staking his claim over the property. Jenny and Sam are gutting the place after all, tearing the previous identity and personality away and injecting their own imprint. Anyone, dead or alive, would probably be upset about it.
But Sam is a complete skeptic, having already instilled the realities of astrology so heavily that Jenny lost her faith in God. Sam is working on a book on the subject, and appears to be a cocky expert on almost any topic. Proving him wrong—ever—might be a fool’s errand. Enter: Sam’s best friend of over twenty years, Lauren (Camp), and her current beau, much older interior decorator, Ben (Martin Marquez). Lauren appears flighty and charming at first glance, becoming more complex (and considerably more drunk!) as the show progresses. Ben, meanwhile, offers unsolicited design advice, and Sam doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he can’t stand Ben.
As Jenny spills to the others that she suspects their home may contain a ghost, a wild proposition begins to take shape. What if their guests stick around until 2:22, just to reinforce that Jenny isn’t actually going crazy. During the initial recounting, Sam falls into the typical horror movie husband trope: he gaslights Jenny, insisting that ghosts could not possibly exist. The four each have a tie to the supernatural in one way or another, and solving the puzzle box nature ties into their larger arcs. The nature of the unfolding action allows for plenty of one-on-one interactions along with the group interplay.
The dynamics between the couples create a constant shift in energy as they engage in heated debates and share freaky stories of their own. No less than three times, the richness of these tales sent a chill down my spine. In this aspect, directors Matthew Dunster and Gabriel Vega Weissman expertly build the tension. A ticking digital clock keeps us planted squarely in the world of these characters as their party goes on late into the night. Each interlude features jarring jump scares that had my heart racing. The build of creeping dread works expertly after a quick intermission, reserving the craziest shocks for its jaw-dropping climax.
The staging might initially seem a little simple, but every inch of it gets used at one point in time. A connecting doorway leads to the front of the home, and a staircase up to the second floor. Crumbling wallpaper and half-painted walls show a floor plan that’s not even halfway to a finished product. A set of glass doors lead outside to a shed containing the former owners’ belongings. Even an eerie fog rolling in can be enough to establish the show’s claustrophobic atmosphere. A kitchen with a constant flow of alcohol keeps the whole roster heavily lubricated, especially Lauren.
As the resident drunk, therapist Lauren saves most of her therapizing for Sam and his mansplaining tangents. Camp relishes every second of her time on the stage, breathing vibrant life into Lauren with aplomb. Conversely, Finn Jones turns Sam into a smarmy know-it-all, somehow making ‘mate’ sound like a term of admonishment. Jones is a perfect fit for the character, and an obvious centerpiece of the show as he’s the only one harshly committed to a scientific explanation for the terror. Jenny would come across as rambling and erratic, if not for the unflinching honesty she nakedly portrays about her situation. Janine Cephas Jones plays her as a desperate woman clinging to hope for saving her newborn from the home’s odd occurrences. Marquez’s charming Ben helps tie the threads together with his insider knowledge. A seance he leads to communicate with the presence inside the home is a freaky highlight of the entire show.
While sister plays Parnormal Activity and A Ghost in Your Ear focus more on outrageous scares, 2:22 is a different ghost entirely. Driven by paranoia and sophisticated conversations, it attempts to make sense of the supernatural while getting deeper into its inherent contradictories. After curtain call, its greater messages linger. Unwrapping the secrets will reward the audience with a richly layered mind-fuck of a show that refuses to sugarcoat its disturbing endgame. 2:22 remains obscenely clever thanks to the searing cast chemistry and the surprising horrors housed within its crumbling walls.
Get shit faced and settle in for a spook: 2:22: A Ghost Story is now counting down the minutes, playing performances Off Broadway at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. For ticketing information, please head over to the official website.
