Surely one of us cannot be responsible? Which one? Who dunnit? Happily, Hercule Poirot’s ‘little grey cells’ will solve the conundrum.
OUR VERDICT
Agatha Christie is always reliable. We get what we want: a gripping story of passion, betrayal and murder politely exhibited, then deftly resolved by an amateur sleuth who, in his capacity as sole saviour, restores normality to a group of the English middle classes who have suffered a disruptive moment of homicidal mania. That’s the formula - especially fascinating for a theatre audience who themselves are exactly the sort of people depicted in the play.
Wealthy heiress Linnet Ridgeway has seduced and married her best friend’s fiancé, Simon Doyle. The apparently happy couple are taking their honeymoon in Egypt, pursued by the jilted girlfriend, Jacqueline Bellefort. Since hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Linnet turns to Poirot for protection. The four of them and a half-dozen other quaint English types converge in the same place at the same time, on a boat in Egypt. Many of them have a motive for eliminating Linnet Doyle. One of them, unseen, kills her.
This production is immediately striking for its stunning set design by Mike Britton. The stage is divided horizontally into two halves, one above the other, representing the two decks, upper and lower, of a cruise ship, the SS Karnak, progressing down the Nile. It is a clever device enabling simultaneous action at different levels. The lighting design, by Oliver Fenwick, provides the wonderful illusion of light reflected on the side of the ship from the undulating waters of the river below.
ATG
The remarkably prolific and accomplished Ken Ludwig has adapted for the stage a serious novel of detection published originally in 1937. Here, the dialogue bounces along delightfully on the wings of repartee. The play is a warm-hearted ensemble piece, decidedly not murderous: it is almost “Murder on the Nile – the Musical!” If the cast burst into song, we would not be surprised.
Ludwig has written this in a jolly, even self-mocking, manner suitable for today’s jaded, ironic taste. What was once an after-dinner puzzle has become a cosy mystery. Towards the end, Poirot’s temporary sidekick, Colonel Race, makes the metafictional comment that this is the point in the story when all the characters are gathered together by the detective, who questions each and declares who the killer is.
It feels as though the actor playing Poirot has caught your eye - now you see him as just a man, not a fictional character, and instantly the suspension of disbelief has gone. You are reminded that this is only a play; the fourth wall breaks open. Personally, I regard this as a creative mistake; however, the audience loved it. They relished the humour of recognising that such detective stories are rigidly formulaic, as such, not meant to be taken too seriously. We are in on the trick and can enjoy the artifice together.
Since this is “cosy,” the opposite of tough, hard-boiled detective fiction, we know in advance that all will end well. Poirot explains everything, and the crime is solved. The killer gets his just desserts. Normality is restored, and the audience is reassured about our way of life.
After Richmond, the production continues its tour across Britain into 2026. It’s worth seeing.
