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If nothing else, the A.R.T.’s production of “1984,” running Feb. 14 to Mar. 6 on the Loeb Mainstage, makes incontrovertible that Orwell’s dystopian novel is uniquely suited to the stage. The show is genuinely chilling. Through intense, unremitting artistic direction based largely around harsh noises and flashing bright lights, the production enables itself to achieve a visceral effect on the viewer that is simply beyond the capacities of a novel. So while the show does suffer from flaws in pacing and some suboptimal directorial choices, it is necessary viewing for anyone who found Orwell’s original compelling.

Script-wise, the show is primarily a straight adaptation of the original novel, save for moments of framing at the play’s beginning and end. The show opens on Winston (Matthew Spencer) writing in his secret diary, the contents of which are shown to the audience through an overhead projector—an interesting, if rather blunt, incorporation of the themes of surveillance and technology that dominate the novel. Beads of what at first glance appear to be red ink fall onto the paper: Winston has gotten a nosebleed. This visceral intensity does not abate but rather intensifies as the play proceeds: Soon, with blaring, alarm-like noises and flashing white lights, a set of actors appears around Winston and begins discussing his diary from a future, post-Big Brother perspective. The juxtaposition between Winston and the modern observers is well-executed—in particular, Spencer impressively conveys the confusion and frustration of seeing these people with whom he is unable to communicate via body language. But since these future readers are dropped from the play until its conclusion, they ultimately feel unnecessary.

The adaptation also handles the story’s pacing rather clumsily. While both the first half hour, before Winston and Julia (Hara Yannas) begin their relationship, and the last, when Winston is taken to the Ministry of Love for reprogramming, are compelling and tightly crafted, the depiction of the relationship itself is highly flawed. Given the intensity and disorientation of the play’s beginning and end, its middle is regrettably boring. Yannas is handily out-acted by the rest of the cast—Spencer’s talents are far better used opposite, for example, Tim Dutton, who plays O’Brien. Additionally, the directors inexplicably choose to show Winston and Julia’s apartment on the screen that initially featured Winston’s diary, and so there is no way to know for sure whether or not those scenes are pre-recorded. “1984” derives much of its power from the physical presence of its actors: It is far more affecting, for example, to see Winston tortured in the flesh than it would be to view the scene on film. By showing these scenes between Winston and Julia only on camera, the show loses this salient advantage for a good third of its length.

Nevertheless, the production is overall a success, for the simple reason that it provides more than adequate reason for its own existence. Each flashing light, each painfully dissonant noise, creates for the viewer a dimension of the disturbing that cannot possibly be achieved by ink and paper alone. “1984” in its original form is intellectually chilling, but the stage production is able to achieve a baser, more visceral terror than the original could ever hope to access. While the script and the direction are rather out of sync in terms of quality—curious, given that the adaptors and directors are one and the same—the latter more than makes up for the flaws of the former. Bolstered by impressive set changes and great acting from the majority of the cast, “1984” is a production that, while somewhat uneven, is eminently worth seeing.

—Crimson Staff writer Grace E. Huckins can be reached at grace.huckins@thecrimson.com.