Review: Black Coffee
The English love tradition, this being the only plausible explanation for the continued tolerance of Morris dancing in public places. The English also love a good murder, by which I mean one that takes place in mysterious circumstances, in genteel surroundings and could have been committed by any of a number of colourful characters, each with a hidden past or dark secret, rather than the sort that takes place in a pub car park and is unquestionably committed by the thug in the mismatched tracksuit holding a hammer and a grudge. And the English love their Queen of Crime, Agatha Christie.
And of course Malvern, or rather Malvern Theatre, is always happy to play host to the better sort of murder. That is why Agatha Christie is still very much a welcome guest in the town, with dramatic adaptations of her work returning to thrill and enchant year after year. ‘Black Coffee’, as with previous productions from this company, played to a packed house, and with good reason.
Black Coffee is very much an ensemble piece but as soon as the curtain rises, it’s clear that one of the principal players is the set itself. Dominated by a large window that looks for all the world like a spider’s web, in Act I it frames a sky full of what can only be described as lowering clouds, and a privet hedge (by the end of Act I even the hedge looks suspicious, can one really trust a hedge that well groomed?). The set is a large drawing room and library in the sort of country house that attracts murderers and eccentric detectives the way normal houses attract junk mail. The set provides enough space for the cast to huddle in corners, perch nervously on sofas but, and this most importantly, for Poirot to prowl. The room is described at the start of the play as a rat trap and at one point, with knowing amusement, by Poirot himself as a ‘mousetrap’. For the audience though, it’s a window into the 1920s, into the world of the country house, into the world of Agatha Christie.
In this ensemble piece the spotlights on the stage follow the spotlight of suspicion as it moves from cast member to cast member, each with their frailties, each with their possible motive, each in sequence falling under the gaze of the diminutive Belgian detective. Summoned to the house to investigate a missing formula, he remains to investigate something far more sinister.
The production hits exactly the right note, drama, a little melodrama, real tension and moments of comedy that are pitched perfectly.
An ensemble piece then, but Robert Powell is unquestionably the star. This is an actor so confident in his performance, and those who have played Poirot before him have surely cast long shadows, that he occasionally appears to almost, very nearly, acknowledge the presence of an audience. Perhaps for Poirot there is always an invisible audience he performs to, when his companion Hastings is unavailable.
Certainly with an Agatha Christie play featuring the famous detective, it’s a reasonable expectation that the audience will be familiar with the subject matter, and a little playfulness is allowed, even expected. Theatregoers watching a performance of an Agatha Christie play will expect red herrings, dapper dressers, country houses, butlers and suspicious privet. This is an audience that is probably familiar with the work and undoubtedly intimate with this detective, or at least they think they are. Poirot has been a regular fixture on film and television for years, indeed so pervasive is his presence that when the curtain came down between Acts, I expected to see an advert for river cruises appear.
The play is staged over three Acts, with two short intervals. A cynical attempt to double the gin revenues at the bar, or an excellent mechanism to increase the tension between each Act, as the audience has exactly the right amount of time for gin-fuelled uninformed speculation and swapping of theories before launching into the next round of revelations and red herrings? Or both?
The play also asks some interesting questions about the English attitude to foreigners, of which Poirot is, thankfully, the acceptable sort.
Exceptional.
And of course Malvern, or rather Malvern Theatre, is always happy to play host to the better sort of murder. That is why Agatha Christie is still very much a welcome guest in the town, with dramatic adaptations of her work returning to thrill and enchant year after year. ‘Black Coffee’, as with previous productions from this company, played to a packed house, and with good reason.
Black Coffee is very much an ensemble piece but as soon as the curtain rises, it’s clear that one of the principal players is the set itself. Dominated by a large window that looks for all the world like a spider’s web, in Act I it frames a sky full of what can only be described as lowering clouds, and a privet hedge (by the end of Act I even the hedge looks suspicious, can one really trust a hedge that well groomed?). The set is a large drawing room and library in the sort of country house that attracts murderers and eccentric detectives the way normal houses attract junk mail. The set provides enough space for the cast to huddle in corners, perch nervously on sofas but, and this most importantly, for Poirot to prowl. The room is described at the start of the play as a rat trap and at one point, with knowing amusement, by Poirot himself as a ‘mousetrap’. For the audience though, it’s a window into the 1920s, into the world of the country house, into the world of Agatha Christie.
In this ensemble piece the spotlights on the stage follow the spotlight of suspicion as it moves from cast member to cast member, each with their frailties, each with their possible motive, each in sequence falling under the gaze of the diminutive Belgian detective. Summoned to the house to investigate a missing formula, he remains to investigate something far more sinister.
The production hits exactly the right note, drama, a little melodrama, real tension and moments of comedy that are pitched perfectly.
An ensemble piece then, but Robert Powell is unquestionably the star. This is an actor so confident in his performance, and those who have played Poirot before him have surely cast long shadows, that he occasionally appears to almost, very nearly, acknowledge the presence of an audience. Perhaps for Poirot there is always an invisible audience he performs to, when his companion Hastings is unavailable.
Certainly with an Agatha Christie play featuring the famous detective, it’s a reasonable expectation that the audience will be familiar with the subject matter, and a little playfulness is allowed, even expected. Theatregoers watching a performance of an Agatha Christie play will expect red herrings, dapper dressers, country houses, butlers and suspicious privet. This is an audience that is probably familiar with the work and undoubtedly intimate with this detective, or at least they think they are. Poirot has been a regular fixture on film and television for years, indeed so pervasive is his presence that when the curtain came down between Acts, I expected to see an advert for river cruises appear.
The play is staged over three Acts, with two short intervals. A cynical attempt to double the gin revenues at the bar, or an excellent mechanism to increase the tension between each Act, as the audience has exactly the right amount of time for gin-fuelled uninformed speculation and swapping of theories before launching into the next round of revelations and red herrings? Or both?
The play also asks some interesting questions about the English attitude to foreigners, of which Poirot is, thankfully, the acceptable sort.
Exceptional.
Labels: Agatha Christie, Malvern, Malvern Theatre, Theatre
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