The Haunting of Hill House review: jump scares land at Richmond

Audiences at Richmond theatre are screaming within seconds of curtain up. The production is an adaptation of Shirley Jackson's 1959 novel The Haunting of Hill House, the book Stephen King deemed "as nearly perfect a haunted-house tale as I have ever read".

That is a high bar for any stage version. But director Martin Constantine delivers what our critic calls a slick and spooky fright night, built on inventive stagecraft rather than camp shlock.

What happens on stage?

A trio of guests arrives at the abandoned Hill House, invited by Dr Montague to investigate its rumoured supernatural affliction. From the moment they enter, the theatre works on the audience's nerves:

• An unsettling soundscape of creaky hinges and unidentified thuds
• An intensifying stream of jump scares
• Bulbs that blow without warning
• Blankets that hover in mid-air
• Menacing scrawls appearing on the walls
• Furniture that slides about unaided

That last effect carries a disquieting suggestion of its own: even the set changes seem to be the work of ghosts. The reviewer notes a "heart-quickening rumble of threat throughout", and for some it tips into outright terror — the person in the seat in front of the critic spent the whole performance clutching their neighbour and muttering: "No, no, no, I do not like this at all."

How does Constantine build the fear?

The review credits the production's tension largely to Constantine's direction, which layers sound design and mechanical effects into an atmosphere of sustained dread. The scares escalate as the guests probe deeper into the mansion's secrets, with jump scares, flying furniture and psychological unravelling hurtling towards a climax.

The source novel's pedigree looms over the evening. Jackson's 1959 book has long been regarded as a landmark of horror fiction — King's endorsement is quoted in the original review — and the adaptation faces the task of translating its creeping psychological menace to a live audience. Constantine's answer, according to the critic, is pace and sensory overload: the audience rarely gets a quiet moment to settle.

The psychological dimension is not neglected. Alongside the mechanical scares, the three invited guests begin to unravel as the house works on them, so that by the climax the question of who — or what — is haunting Hill House remains open.

Why does it matter?

Not many productions extract screams from an audience within seconds of curtain up, and the review suggests this one sustains that voltage across the performance. For London theatregoers weighing a night of horror on stage, the Richmond run offers a rare chance to test Jackson's "nearly perfect" haunted house against live jump scares — with the critic's verdict leaning firmly towards the frights.