Centenary Theatre Group’s production of 'Veronica’s Room', written by Ira Levin and directed by Rhyll Bucknell, is a chilling psychological thriller that ensnares its audience in an intricate web of deception, suspense, and unnerving twists. Featuring Meg Hinselwood, John Bennetto, Peter Van Werkhoven, and Mariam Mijnnsen—credited only as Woman, Man, Boy, and Girl (for reasons that become clear later)—this production masterfully blurs the lines between reality and perception, leaving the audience teetering on the edge of uncertainty.
Without giving too much away...
John and Maureen Mackey, the caretakers of the Brabissant mansion, strike up a conversation with a young couple, Susan and Larry, at a restaurant and persuade them to visit the house. When they reveal that Susan bears an uncanny resemblance to the long-deceased Veronica Brabissant, they ask her to impersonate Veronica briefly to bring comfort to Veronica’s elderly and ailing sister, Cecilia. What begins as a friendly favour soon spirals into a psychological nightmare as Susan finds herself trapped in Veronica’s old room. Reality begins to blur, trust becomes a fragile illusion, and the boundaries between past and present dissolve as Susan—who knows herself to be from 1973—is manipulated into believing she is actually Veronica, living in 1935.
From the outset, Meg Hinselwood and John Bennetto establish an uneasy tension, striking a fine balance between the warmth of welcoming strangers and the underlying sense that something is unshakably wrong. But once Mariam Mijnnsen’s Susan steps into Veronica’s shoes—both literally and figuratively—the production transforms into an unrelenting psychological battleground.
Mariam Mijnnsen delivered the standout performance of the night. Her transformation from a friendly, unsuspecting young woman into a state of disoriented distress and terror was utterly compelling. One of her most chilling scenes came when she clung desperately to her 1973 reality, rattling off facts and famous figures in a futile attempt to anchor herself in her own time. She balanced Susan's vulnerability and assuredness with precision, making her character’s journey deeply memorable.
Meg Hinselwood tackled the role of the Woman with unnerving conviction, navigating a character that demanded a drastic shift in both demeanour and presence. Her transformation from seemingly benevolent to spine-chilling malice was both gradual and striking. John Bennetto and Peter Van Werkhoven provided solid support, though their performances occasionally lacked the same weight and presence as their female counterparts. Nevertheless, their character shifts in Act Two were executed well and contributed to the play's growing sense of unease.
The production’s design choices amplified the narrative’s sense of confinement. The set design was a standout element—a richly detailed time capsule of Veronica’s preserved bedroom, initially draped in sheets. Every detail, from the imposing wooden door with its heavy lock to the aged textiles, gramophone, and barred windows, contributed to a creeping sense of inescapability. Lighting and sound were used strategically to heighten tension, with subtle atmospheric shifts reinforcing the play’s psychological horror elements.
At around 100 minutes, Veronica’s Room is a tightly wound thriller that demands unwavering attention. Rhyll Bucknell’s direction ensures the suspense never wanes, with each scene layering another level of discomfort. At times, dialogue delivery felt disjointed and a few early lines from the Man were lost, slightly dampening the impact of the play’s initial buildup. That said, the clarity improved as the play progressed, allowing the final act to land with full impact. The setting was well reflected in the costuming, particularly in Susan’s transition from the free-spirited attire of the 70s to the restrictive clothing of the 30s—a symbolic visual shift.
'Veronica’s Room' is not for the faint of heart. The production plays with perception so effectively that by the time Susan is desperately asserting her identity, the audience, too, is questioning everything they thought they knew. The second act fully embraces the play’s mind-bending nature, unfolding like a fever dream that tightens its grip with each passing moment. As the final revelations come to light, they are as unsettling as they are exciting—I only pieced it together mere moments before the truth was revealed.
This was a brilliantly executed production that left its audience unsettled—a chilling reminder of the terrifying power of psychological manipulation. Dark and deeply disturbing at times, the play delivered a sharp, intelligent, and suspenseful theatrical experience.
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