11 – 15 March
As far as charades go it doesn’t get any easier: “It’s a book. Yes. It’s a film and a stage play? Oh.” Mimes: chug, chug, stab, stab. “Ah, I’ve got it! Murder on the Orient Express!” Of course, it’s obvious. Even supposing you don’t know or have forgotten who did what to whom and for why, the clues are enough to name the work. It’s famous, almost as famous as its author. So we come to the theatre wondering how are they going to do it? We might also want to know what Poirot is like. As fictional detectives go he’s up there with Sherlock Holmes, certainly in terms of fame and perhaps in the opportunity it gives an actor to make his mark.
I heaved a sigh of relief when the actors, at first looking like a Greek chorus in a black box, were replaced by a rather plush, deconstructed train which Mike Britton had fashioned into a swirling jigsaw set complete with back projections and relevant sound effects. Very cleverly we see into the carriages from all angles as and when the director sees fit. Lucy Bailey plays her theatrical cards well with plenty of movement even when the train trundles to a halt in the snow, providing the isolated conditions in which the plot unfolds.
Ken Ludwig’s script has plenty of humour and Ms Bailey deftly weaves it in without tipping into the farce that always lurks behind the frantic comings and goings. In this she is supported by her cast, notably Michael Maloney, whose energetic and excitable Poirot is infused with as much vigour as his ‘little grey cells’. When reluctant to take on the role of investigator he is urged by his friend, the railway director (Bob Barrett) with the suggestion, “It will take a genius”. His snappy, immodest response, “All right, I’ll do it”, displays an ego ready for the stroking. When serial bride, Helen Hubbard (Christine Kavanagh) gives the come-on to Monsieur Bouc by saying he reminds her of one of her husbands the punch line, “The next one”, is worthy of Mae West. There is also some nice, tart interplay between her and Princess Dragomiroff (Debbie Chazen) who oozes vestigial entitlement.
However, whilst sleuths in the audience will have taken due note of the case of the murdered little girl which was projected on the screen at the opening of the play, there is little to connect the well drawn characters in the first half, which is little more than a seemingly unconnected collection of character sketches that do little to draw us in, until Poirot swings into action after the first dramatic event.
Nevertheless, Christie aficionados will have no complaints about a quality production that has the added heft of a moral dilemma for Poirot.
★★★☆☆ Graham Wyles, 12 March 2025
Photography credit: Manuel Harlan
