4 STARS, May 17-20. Strictly Murder is a play that’s poised on a knife-edge, says Alice Cairns
There’s a literal knife-edge, of course, in the form of an ominous (and omni-present) bread knife. But the characters also face a tense and dizzying tightrope walk between life and death, war and peace, truth and lies.
We’re in a rustic cottage in the wilds of Provence. Peter and Suzy lead a simple life - a kind of rural idyll. Except they don’t have any money. And they’re arguing about commitment. And Peter has some very suspicious scars.
Also, it’s the spring of 1939, and Europe is on the brink of war. While Peter and Suzy do the dishes, the radio stutters between dance tunes and the strident blare of Hitler’s speeches. We know only too well what’s waiting just around the corner.
We quickly learn that the most important boundary in this play is that which separates the intimacy of the home from the brooding hostility of the outside world. Unfortunately for Peter and Suzy, this boundary proves permeable, and their insular life is invaded by several suspicious intruders. By the end of Act One, you’ll have begun to wonder whether there isn’t something very scary at the heart of the cottage itself. What bloody lengths will our characters go to in order to keep their secrets? And will something horrible crawl up out of the cesspit (a literal one, at that)?
Strictly Murder asks us to think hard about what, and who, we should fear. At the beginning of the play, the cottage is broken into by a local simpleton who steals food, performs a Nazi salute, and wields a gun that’s about a metre long. But the invader who poses the real threat is mild mannered, well dressed and smiling, carrying a pistol so small that it can be concealed in a napkin.
The play was well acted across the board. Lara Lemon was dignified and self-possessed as Suzy, Andrew Fettes was lovable as Josef, and Gary Turner brought energy and nervy humour to the role of Peter, a man of many faces (and accents). Turner stayed impressively in character even when he hit his head on the top half of a stable door, a moment which drew a collective ‘gasp’ from the audience.
For me, though, the standout performance of the night was delivered by Brian Capron. This, despite the fact that he was saddled with one of the clunkiest elements of the play – the usually horrible device of making the same actor play two identical twins. But I enjoyed his dapper, cruel performance so much that I actually gave a mental cheer when he reappeared as Twin the Second in Act Two. (He didn’t disappoint, executing a subtly distinct performance as the quieter, less flamboyant twin.)
The play itself felt a bit thin at times, and could be somewhat slow moving. But the solid performances meant that it kept my attention. All in all, this was an enjoyable meditation on the ways that political instability can insinuate itself into even the most remote homes, and poison the most contented relationships.
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