Paula Hawkins’s source novel, The Girl on the Train, has one of the great twists in thriller history (spoiler alert for the novel)—the revelation the protagonist, Rachel Watson, is a fantasist and such a heavy drinker she is prone to blackouts making her a highly unreliable narrator.
Perhaps aware that most theatregoers will already be aware of this twist, the stage adaptation by Rachel Wagstaff and Duncan Abel instead opens with the possibility Rachel might be a suspect in a missing person / murder case.
Rachel Watson (Giovanna Fletcher) awakes from a drinking session, blood-stained and with no memory, to find she is implicated in the case of missing person Megan Hipwell (Natalie Dunne) who lives near Rachel’s ex-husband Tom (Jason Merrells) and his new wife Anna (Zena Carswell). In an effort to find a structure for her life, Rachel has continued her daily train commute, even though she has lost her job and, observing Megan and her husband Scott (Samuel Collings) from the window of the train, has mentally constructed an idealised fantasy life for the couple. Unable to accept her fantasy might be untrue, Rachel involves herself in the case but, as she has verbally harassed her ex-husband and reportedly made violent threats towards his wife, finds herself regarded as a suspect rather than an investigator.
The stage version of The Girl on the Train suffers from the common challenge facing page to stage adaptations—having to squeeze a great deal of explanatory detail into the dialogue. Rachel’s fantasising, therefore, has less impact than might be expected; becoming just one of many developments rather than a turning point. The emotional manipulation of the controlling villain, however, works better in the present day than when the novel was written.
Director Loveday Ingram takes a dark, psychological approach, moving the audience into Rachel’s confused mind, resulting in the ambiguous possibility she might be the villain or the victim. The train journey becomes, therefore, an internal voyage taking Rachel towards possible redemption if she can overcome her demons. Rachel’s frequent descents into alcohol-fuelled oblivion are staged as physical assaults with Giovanna Fletcher surrounded by anonymous silent figures encouraging her actions.
The approach is facilitated by Adam Wiltshire’s imaginative stage set. Dan Light’s video designs projected onto the rear stage wall create the effect of constant rushing movement pushing the characters towards a crisis point. Rain-splattered windows add to the oppressive and gloomy atmosphere. Rachel is constantly trying to make sense of her scrambled memories, at one point feeling herself trapped in a revolving box as she struggles to find answers.
Giovanna Fletcher downplays Rachel and avoids any possible glossy romanticising of her desperate situation. Fletcher's physical depiction means the revelation of Rachael’s alcoholism cannot be a surprise—wearing oversized, unflattering clothing and always clutching a bottle, Rachel is not a passenger you would wish to sit next to on the train. Fletcher suggests Rachel uses the investigation as a means of weaning herself off alcohol, notably declining to drink as she becomes more involved.
The Girl on the Train is one of the better thriller adaptations, retaining the essence of the novel in an imaginative manner.