If your taste in live entertainment is an old-fashioned thriller, Strictly Murder is just the outing for you. I went along hoping for a good yarn performed by competent actors without fashionably modern over-direction, and I wasn’t disappointed.
It’s 1939 and an unmarried (ooh-er, missus) English couple, Peter and Suzy, are sharing an isolated cottage in Provence, because in those days the French were apparently more tolerant than us strait-laced Brits about ‘living in sin’.
A big, valve radio set, of the kind that I remember twiddling the knobs on as a kid in the 1950s, creates an atmosphere of the impending Second World War as, between whistles, whooshes and crackles, it conveys the voices of Chamberlain and Hitler.
The first suggestion of something sinister comes when an old neighbour, Josef, who has an ancient rifle, a thick German accent and very few of his marbles left, repeatedly wanders in and out of the cottage without knocking.
The plot thickens in the classic style of the genre with the arrival of a smartly-dressed, politely-spoken Englishman, Ross, who has been looking for Peter, a struggling artist. When he tells Suzy that her partner isn’t who she thinks he is, it’s game on.
The script by veteran TV drama writer Brian Clemens is full of suspense, twists, and occasional corny but amusing shocks; like Peter brandishing a huge kitchen knife near Suzy when actually he’s only going to use it for a bit of food preparation. (I actually heard a woman near me whisper, “Ooh, I can’t look!”)
There are more red herrings in this play than you’d find on a supermarket fish counter, and in the second half one of them is so obvious that you find yourself thinking, “Yep, there’s definitely a mega-twist coming up any moment now.” But that’s okay, because it’s always smugly satisfying to be proved right, isn’t it?
Peter, Suzy, Josef and Ross are portrayed convincingly by Gary Turner, Lara Lemon, Andrew Fettes and Brian Capron, and it is the truthful acting which enables the audience to suspend our disbelief in the fictional nonsense.
Corrinne Wicks freshens up Act II by appearing on the scene as an uncannily tall, blonde police superintendent, whom she plays in a way guaranteed to scare any recalcitrant suspect. (Well, she scared the crap out of me, anyway).
After two hours of bluff, double-bluff and triple-bluff, by which time your head is spinning with possible explanations, I guarantee you won’t guess the truth that will be revealed in the final climactic scene.
But you might leave the theatre with a nostalgically patriotic spring in your step, especially as your departure will be accompanied by bouncy SS marching songs. I can’t helping thinking that if the British Army had had songs like that we’d have won the war by Christmas.
(I saw ‘Strictly Murder’, produced by Talking Scarlet, at the Gordon Craig Theatre, Stevenage, on Wednesday 7 June 2017)