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.

Review: The Mousetrap

The good people of Malvern love a murder, by which I mean they love an artfully produced whodunit, which is why on this rainy November night the Malvern Theatre was full, not a spare seat to be had.  Knowing what lay in store, folk were ready for a treat and obviously, those who had enjoyed previous productions and who are intimate with Agatha, were expecting something worth tempting them out on a night like this, something special.  And something special is what they got, because although the place was packed, as it was observed to me afterwards: 'there was not a sniff, cough or fidget the whole way through'.  True enough and no further accolade is required to underline the quality of this performance of 'The Moustrap'.

What I will say is that the individual performances were excellent.  As usual, the stage contained a number of well known actors, by which I mean well known from the telly, and the play gave them the chance to step out of familiar roles into vintage dress, an opportunity they seized with obvious relish.  It's wrong to single out any sole performance for praise but it's fair to say that the spirit of impending panto season had obviously gripped some of the cast, with Steven France and Karl Howman in particular in fine form, giving a masterclass in how to perform at the very edge of restraint, and when to knowingly push things just that bit further.

Indeed, for a whodunit featuring ghastly grisly murder, the entire play was not short of laughs, there were genuine comedic characters and some finely judged comic moments, all of which gave the darker moments of the play that much more chilling impact.

The play is celebrating its sixtieth year, yet still seems fresh.  Partly this is because the set up, strangers thrown together in a country house hotel that is then cut off from the rest of the world by snow, is timeless, or at least has been timeless for the last sixty years.  But also because, unfortunately, some of those darker themes in the play are still with us and, at the time of this performance, still sadly topical.  The audience were watching a play cherished in part because of its longevity that dealt with contemporary themes.

In 'The Mousetrap' four expected and one unexpected guest arrive at a newly opened hotel and, as the snow thickens outside, the plot thickens inside with the discovery that one may be a murderer.  The first half of the play, with the introduction of the characters and the building of suspicion into paranoia, ensures that the audience has a busy time pointing the finger of suspicion first one way and then the other.  'The Mousetrap' is a glorious mechanism, the plots and sub-plots weaving and ticking along but there is more to it than an admirable structure, as the characters come to life, the audience are drawn in.

And what a pleasant place to be drawn in to.  Once they have cleared out the murderer, I'd quite fancy a week at the hotel.  The set was excellent, an unchanging single room that somehow managed to convey that yes, behind this door is a writing room, behind that one a dining room, behind that one a music room and so on.  As important as the scenery was the lighting, which managed to suggest that particular winter dusk you get when it's been snowing and, for one pivotal scene, transforms the stage and the theatre as day becomes dusk.

That 'The Mousetrap' is celebrating its sixtieth year is testament to its quality as a play and this was an exceptional performance, with cast and crew obviously conscious that they were performing something beloved, with national treasure status.  There was an air of celebration to the performance that might not have been there last year and may not be there next year but that does not matter because, at the conclusion of the play and after the curtain call, one is asked not to reveal the plot.  In that one delicious moment there is complete complicity between audience and performer and with a huge collective wink, everyone goes home happy.

Review - Murder on the Nile

Malvern may well be the perfect place to put on an Agatha.  A spa town made up of several villages strung along the shadow of the Hills, it could be said to suffer from something of a split personality, in parts grand, in parts bohemian, in parts just a little eccentric and as a whole, delightful.  

It is the sort of place where, if there were a body in the library, it would have the good manners to be discovered in the ‘true crime’ section.  It is charming and friendly but there is just enough of the history and resort oddness that comes with being a spa town that used to attract a lot of visitors, and just enough of that village sensibility of everyone knowing everyone else's business while simultaneously being a place where secrets are kept, to make it the sort of place where curtains might twitch and they love a good mystery.

Malvern Theatre is a place like no other, with a strong reputation for being the venue that directors take their shows to to perfect them before being unleashed on London, as well as unashamedly providing entertainment for the town.  Here the curtain twitches and then rises, and the people of Malvern do like a good mystery.

And if that entertainment and mystery comes in the form of bloody murder, then so much the better.  Because Malvern is the perfect place for a whodunit, with atmospheric locations, interesting locals, all that grand architecture and plenty of dark corners to hide secrets in.  

The curtain went up on ‘Murder on the Nile’ and we were not in the sleepy, sinister English countryside anymore, rather, we were in Egypt or, to be more precise, the foredeck of a Nile cruiser bathed in glorious sunshine.

Even for an audience of locals who have quite a healthy relationship with water, thank you very much, this vista caused quite a thrill among the audience who, thanks to a constant diet of rain and drizzle over the past months, were overjoyed to see some sunshine, even if it was artificial. Rows A to D were slapping on the factor 40 and spritzing one another with insect repellent, it was that authentic.

What makes a great set?  Well, in my experience gaffa tape and imagination in equal measure but in this case it was the lighting that made the impression.  Instead of a merciless glare we had mellow light, and not just any mellow light but the mellow light of a travel brochure, from a more elegant age.  Because the characters, being English and abroad, decided that the best way to cope with a voyage on a boat riding on a river through the Sahara was to wear as much linen as possible.  This is inspired, if one is going to look uncomfortable and moist, one had better do so elegantly.

As the full house showed, Malvern enjoys an Agatha and this was no exception.  An exceptional cast was in no way outshone by, but without a doubt led by, Kate O’Mara.

There is something about a real star that sets them apart and Miss O’Mara’s performance was flawless.  Looking most of the time like she was trying to ignore an unpleasant smell (insect repellent from the front row?) she was, to the smallest detail and in the widest sense, the grand society lady, travelling.  This was a woman who carried England with her wherever she went and no matter how foreign the land.  So it was here, every phrase clipped and every movement measured.

The plot was a precision instrument and the cast contrived to throw suspicion first one way and then another.  Without a serial Agatha sleuth on board, the audience felt justified in silently speculating about guilt and innocence, not having to worry about second guessing Jane Marple.

The only thing lacking was the unavailability of 'pink fizz' on tap for the audience.  This is what the cast were constantly ordering from the ship's bar, drinking enough of the stuff to float the ship itself, it's a wonder anyone could shoot straight.

It's always impressive to see a great cast enjoying performing a good play, and enjoying the 'sunshine' too.