Writer and Director: Zoë Cooper
Chilling sprites are conjuring at Barons Court Theatre. The debut production of Zoë Cooper’s The Constant Cold is a pithy recapitulation of the ever-important exploration of trauma and PTSD told through a horror lens.
The 30-minute one-act show begins with the sounds of bleak wintry gusts as a breathless Megan attempts to secure her hyperventilating nerves. As her wits regain, her flatmates encounter her in this state of disarray that slowly unfolds the traumatic rumination of her sexual assault.
As the audience is immediately thrust into the Constant Cold with the sudden stamping of the front door, the stakes are immediately set to 10, leaving the viewer with a slow de-escalating plot that unravels over the course of the short play. This, however, removes the opportunity to progress into these heightened emotions, instead opting for a descent into a climax that can’t compete with the initial excitement of this invisible entity, leaving the audience with the same persistent question: what is the constant cold?
This blurring of supernatural and psychological thriller muddies the overarching relationship between the antagonist and our protagonist, Megan. In a way, the spirit of cold is the manifestation of fear she feels from her PTSD. But in the same vein, when Ethan, her abuser, later feels the similar spiritual presence, the roles are suddenly reversed. The collected Megan suddenly has extreme control over the situation, implicitly suggesting that this spirit of coldness now possesses her, and what once ruled her paranoia now offers as a force just as sinister as the traumas inflicted onto her.
Needless to say, it is an impressive feat to write, produce, and perform for the same production. Props to the Calico Collective for producing theatre in a world constantly at odds with its creation. With continued efforts towards improving the content of stories, The Constant Cold has potential to tackle significant topics within society, complexities of character, and the development of suspense in theatrical horror.
Reviewed on 20 October 2025
