There’s something strangely poetic (ironic?) about a production of Ghost being itself haunted from beyond the grave.

And no, we don’t callously mean the late, great Bill Kenwright.

Rather, the shadow of the past that is the original, celebrated run of the show looms large over this revived incarnation of Kenwright and co’s 2016 production, just as it did then.

Debuting back in 2011, first in Manchester, later in London and then finally on tour across the UK, Ballard, Rubin and Stewart’s stage adaptation of the Oscar-winning 1990s box office smash was fairly unanimously praised for its stunning stagecraft and effects work. To this date, although it was frequently beset with technical faults because of the sheer scope and ambition of what it took on the road, the OG run of Ghost the Musical remains quite possibly the most visually arresting and impressive touring production the UK has seen.

The core narrative remains the same as the movie and former runs. Doe-eyed lovebirds Molly (Rebekah Lowings) and Sam (Josh St. Clair) move in together in their new Brooklyn apartment, pottery wheel and all. But when tragedy strikes and Sam is killed by a mugger, Molly’s world is turned upside down. Sam’s spirit meanwhile, seemingly trapped on Earth, must unravel the mystery behind his murder and protect his beloved Molly, enlisting the help of fraudulent psychic Oda Mae Brown (Jacqui Dubois), who turns out to be the only one who can hear him from beyond the grave.

“…much of the criticism that was laid at the door of the show almost a decade ago sadly rings true here.”

Being a marginally revamped take on Kenwright’s more stripped-back affair of 2016, much of the criticism that was laid at the door of the show almost a decade ago sadly rings true here. By contrast to what has come before, so much of the staging and illusion work here – crucial to sell the ethereal and otherworldly elements that are so integral to the show – feel underwhelming, or at times even amateur, when compared with the original, dazzling production.

And whilst, yes, audiences going in with no experience of the original production will perhaps fare slightly better, nonetheless uninspired, hokey choreography, pitchy sound and what are at times quite literally wobbly set pieces all contribute to the feeling of a show that isn’t quite up to snuff.

Thankfully, the major death knell last time round – namely, casting – is markedly improved for 2025.

“Lowings is a veritable powerhouse… her searing rendition of fan favourite ‘With You’ is truly goose pimple inducing stuff…”

Whereas previously the late Sarah Harding (of Girls Aloud fame) sadly struggled with the big vocal asks (and acts) of Molly, Lowings is a veritable powerhouse with them. Her searing rendition of fan favourite ‘With You’ is truly goose pimple inducing stuff, and she tugs on the heartstrings with a moving, authentic turn throughout, even if Rubin’s book leaves her with rather little to do during the middle third of the show. Josh St. Clair, as Sam, is suitably frustrated and anguished, and is quite the belter in the higher registers himself. He unenviably inherits much of the production’s low-key approach to illusions and effects work, but gives it his all trying to sell the kind of rudimentary newspaper trickery you’d expect of early Paul Daniels or Blue Peter.

Jacqui Dubois navigated some initial mic dips to give a fun, spirited turn as the feisty Oda Mae (a role which won Whoopi Goldberg the Oscar), though this reviewer would loved to have seen more of her sisters, too, with Tanisha Butterfield and Krishna Jackson-Jones singing up a sassy storm for their introductory two-hander.

Elsewhere, understudy Jamie Pritchard was smooth yet slippery, and similarly in fine voice, as shady broker and bestie, Carl. And Garry Lee infuses palpable rage and intimidating frustration into his imposing subway spectre.

In all, Ghost the Musical remains a pleasant, occasionally funny and ultimately quite moving piece of musical theatre. If its central romance doesn’t always entirely convince – with early scenes feeling a touch too gawky – by the end you’ll likely be won over. Dave Stewart and Glen Ballard’s music bandies between stirring power ballads and less memorable character pieces, and it’s all applied a liberal dose of cheddar. It probably says something that the most memorable musical moment is arguably the only one it inherits from the film – The Righteous Brothers’ ‘Unchained Melody’ being put to liberal use here.

But there’s little shying away from the fact that, for all of the evident talent on stage, and some knockout vocals throughout, it feels like something of a shadow of its former self. And if it may seem unfair to judge a production against its past versions, even on its own merits there is a lot here that feels undercooked or pedestrian.

If you’re a fan of the original film you will likely find plenty to enjoy, and there are certainly performances worth catching, with a couple of the numbers in particular delivered to a stunning standard this time round.

And yet, indeed, here is one Ghost the Musical that, for want of a better analogy, feels haunted by the spectre of its own former grandeur and glory.

For a show that pivots around a central concept of ghostly mysteries and supernatural uncertainties, Danny Robins’ 2:22 has pulled a fairly canny move since its West End debut in 2021. As press releases, programmes and even the show’s curtain call practically beg audiences to not give the game away or share any spoilers, the spooky thriller has set to continue its Mousetrap-esque silence through a bout of good old fashioned deflection and distraction.

From Lily Allen to the freshly mononymous ‘Cheryl’, over the course of the past three years, a routine wheeling of names flitting in and out of the piece has kept us all distracted by who is actually in it, rather than what actually happens. So can she even act? makes for more obvious water cooler banter than spoiler-laden intricacies of plot and narrative.

For this, the show’s inaugural UK tour, the show hasn’t quite managed to pull off as juicy a casting coup as its London counterpart, though nascent interest has lingered enough to certainly make it a curio. And that isn’t to say the tour’s casting has been a slouch, either. The propensity for cycling through new faces on the regular has remained intact, too; at the end of 2023, the likes of TV stars such as Joe Absolom, Nathaniel Curtis and Louisa Lytton bowed out after just three months on the road with the show, with The Wanted star and Strictly Come Dancing champ Jay McGuiness stepping in as potentially the biggest name in the fresh lineup for the new year.

Which, in a way, sees the same Cheryl-shaped question bubbling to the surface…

Cutting through to the quick of what 2:22 is actually about, here is a creepy thriller-cum-relationship drama that doesn’t just throw in the kitchen sink, but practically sets it on fire, to boot. As new parents Jenny (Emmerdale’s Fiona Wade) and Sam (Casualty’s George Rainsford) grapple with the pressures and realities of renovating a house whilst also juggling a newborn, they welcome Sam’s old uni pal, Lauren (Hollyoaks’ Vera Chok) and her new beau, Ben (McGuiness) over for an evening of catching up and chewing the fat.

The only problem is, Jenny is more than a little distracted by spooky goings-on that she’s been experiencing in their new idyll, and is becoming increasingly convinced there may be sinister and otherworldly explanations for it all. Her worry (paranoia?) sits at stark odds with Sam’s rigorous (overbearing?) skepticism and science-based rationalisation.

Over the course of the evening, the four friends will pick away at personal demons, past traumas and increasingly complicated dynamics, whilst counting down to the feted hour when Lauren’s haunted happenings supposedly take place…

Given his experience in the field of all things supernatural, Uncanny’s Danny Robins unsurprisingly acquits himself well as a playwright of the paranormal. And yet, perhaps 2:22’s biggest surprise and strongest flair is in its cutting, witty dialogue and deeply human interplay. Characters interrupt and talk over one another. Microaggressions are precisely that. Exposition and reflection feel earnest and natural. Fundamentally for a play that spends an awful amount of its time being little more than a handful of friends talking, it manages to get its patter and dialogue admirably on point.

“…for a play that spends an awful amount of its time being little more than a handful of friends talking, it manages to get its patter and dialogue admirably on point.”

It’s frequently funny, too. Often through contrast of sincerity and exasperation, faith and doubt, Robins’ characters, whilst not Earth-shatteringly original or unique, nonetheless bounce off of one another well and rub each other up all the wrong (see: right) ways. Rainsford’s dry, deadpan Sam gets plenty of funny as he appears at times to be the sole voice of cold (if condescending) logic amidst the increasingly heightened and fantastical discourse about him. Chok’s Lauren is perhaps the most dimensional and complicated of the bunch, and the actress does a terrific job of finding light, shade, sass and even wine-slogging bawdiness over the course of the show’s lean but satisfying two-hour runtime. She’s superb.

And yes, McGuiness can act, too. Robins clearly appreciates the need to puncture the increasing tension throughout to stop it all from getting too poe-faced or self-important, and much of this is courtesy of McGuiness’ rough and ready yet deceptively sensitive builder. Whilst it is a turn with more than a whiff of the ‘cockerney’ about it, McGuiness lands the laughs comfortably throughout.

With Rainsford treading an impressive balance between being entertainingly insufferable and know-all without coming across as a total tw*t, Wade’s is the only role that feels a touch thankless here. Whilst there is some compelling marital strife bubbling away over the course of the night between the duo, and the ever-creeping shadow of whether or not this could all be heading into Gaslight kinds of territory, Sam is undeniably the more multi-faceted and interesting character of the pair. Whilst Wade is mostly solid in the part, Lauren regularly feels reduced to little more than your rudimentary distressed young mother who doesn’t feel she is being taken seriously enough.

“With its Scandi-inspired splashes of modernity, towering skylights and all, Anna Fleischle’s impressive and striking set feels as much a character as the four leads…”

With its Scandi-inspired splashes of modernity, towering skylights and all, Anna Fleischle’s impressive and striking set feels as much a character as the four leads. Pitched mid-renovation, the swanky, vertiginous joint at first impresses, before the eye can fully take a moment to notice the telltale signs of transition and heritage. Layers of history, remnants of former tenants, as unfinished walls and half-painted door frames hint at stories of yesteryear. Throw in Lucy Carter’s moody lighting and Ian Dickinson’s creeping, occasionally startling sound design and you have a production of both notable polish and regularly unnerving ambience.

Out of a want to make good on the promise to not spoil the fun, there is much about 2:22 that can’t be shared, or even broached. Whilst this particular reviewer manage to peg where it was all headed by the interval, and some may find the outcome disappointingly predictable, there were audibly many others who did not, and  blindsided by where Robins takes the tale.

And even those who are able to pick up on the tells and piece together the mystery will be hard pressed to disagree that this is a handsomely executed, engagingly performed piece of character-driven drama and chills.

“Whether its carousel of stunt casting and ‘Guess Who?’ casting will be enough to sustain 2:22 for anything approaching the length of time that The Mousetrap has been playing the same spoiler-free game, is anyone’s guess.”

Whether its carousel of stunt casting and ‘Guess Who?’ casting will be enough to sustain 2:22 for anything approaching the length of time that The Mousetrap has been playing the same spoiler-free game, is anyone’s guess.

But before then, there is still plenty to enjoy and recommend in what proves to be a stylish, chilling evening of theatre that is perhaps unexpectedly at its strongest when it keeps its all-too-humdrum dynamics at the forefront, and the supernatural shenanigans as, well, spectres lingering ominously at the periphery.