Review: The Grim (Southwark Playhouse Borough)

Review by Lily Melhuish

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Fresh from a sold-out Edinburgh Fringe debut and a critically acclaimed run at London’s Old Red Lion Theatre, The Grim is back to haunt Southwark Playhouse Borough. This macabre comedy digs up more laughs than corpses as two undertakers find themselves knee-deep in supernatural chaos. Edmund Morris’s script, directed with razor-sharp timing by Ben Woodhall, turns a morgue into a playground for gallows humour, ghostly lore, and a murderer who refuses to stay politely dead.

This is a dark comedy that focuses heavily on the laughs, with dialogue that gallops like a hearse on a downhill slope. Shaun (Edmund Morris) and Robert (Louis Davison) are our dynamic duo, and their banter is pure gold: sharp, quick, and brimming with chemistry that makes you want to pull up a chair and join their macabre tea party. Shaun, a classic Cockney hardened by years in the trade, has inherited the family business, while Robert, an Irish Catholic, brings sensitivity and superstition to the mix. Together, they’re the Laurel and Hardy of the mortuary world. 

The first act is a masterclass in tonal juggling: serious and silly, dark and slapstick. Every opportunity for a laugh is seized and polished. When Robert introduces the concept of “The Grim”, a spectral churchyard guardian, most commonly depicted as a large black dog, the play leans into its ghost story roots without losing its comic footing. The space sets the scene suitably, with cold white tiles and a gleaming embalming table that creates a space that’s both clinical and claustrophobic. Lighting cues wink at classic thriller tropes - dark pools of light for ominous theories, flickers for supernatural shenanigans - while the script knows exactly how far to push a joke before landing a killer punchline. 

After the interval, the stakes rise, along with the body of Jackie Gallagher. Harry Carter plays the not-so-dead murderer with menacing charm, prowling around the small space with nothing but a pair of briefs and a bullet wound. The script continues to weave horror with the mundane: football scores, flying saucers, and “a bed and breakfast for ghosts.” Physical comedy abounds, and the trio’s timing is impeccable.

But here’s where the wheels fly off the hearse. The interval kills momentum, and the play never quite regains the height it hit before the break. The final scene is a mess of shouts, screams, and mayhem; a chaotic jumble where thinly placed storylines are shoved into a few sentences and callbacked in the closing moments, barely audible over the hysteria of the situation. 

There’s a plot somewhere in all this - mysterious happenings, serial killers, bent coppers - but it’s fallen to the wayside in favour of prioritising comedy over clarity. That’s no issue until the ending demands answers that the play never provides. It’s got almost all the elements to create something special: terrific actors, a wicked sense of humour, and an intriguing premise, but much like an unsolved murder case, it’s missing a motive. Robert’s fascination with the occult is brushed aside with vague nods to his faith, Shaun’s cynicism and grief over his father’s death remain underexplored, and what could have been rich character work fizzles out like a crushed sherbet lemon.

Equal parts eerie and uproarious, The Grim proves that death can be drop-dead funny. It may trip at the finish line, but there’s still plenty to enjoy in this life-after-death romp. With killer jokes, slick storytelling, and performances to die for, this is one morgue you’ll be glad you attended, even if the ending could use a little more time underground before resurrection.

The Grim plays at Southwark Playhouse Borough until 6th December. Tickets from https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/the-grim

Photos by Molly Jackson-French