I’d recently read the script for this piece and was at a loss to understand how a single performance could take place without killing the greater part of the cast.
Ostensibly we have a polytechnic drama group putting on a Christie-esque murder mystery which – as it says on the tin – goes wrong. In reality, it’s an award-winning, ultra-slick and very funny evening in the theatre.
That’s the joy of it: it’s not deep or layered with subtext, it’s just two-and-a-bit hours of raucous belly laughs. Having now seen it, I’m still not sure how the cast survive the night.
It’s a totally ensemble piece, but special mention must go to Jason Callender as the perkiest corpse this side of heaven, to Meg Mortell and Katie Bernstein for their brilliant – though perhaps a little too well-rehearsed – cat-fight and to Alastair Kirton, whose identical portrayal of two completely different characters is a joy to behold.
Homage must also be made to the technical crew behind the mayhem. Without them, as I fondly imagined on reading the script, I reckon on 50 per cent of the cast having shuffled off their respective mortal coils by the end of each show. Technically it’s beyond superb.