Arts > Theatre

Dial M for Murder

Norwich Theatre Royal

23/01/20

It must come as a surprise to modern audiences that when Frederick Knott wrote Dial M for Murder just after the War, his abiding principle was that it should be “a serious play” and that “there is no winking at the audience.” Even Hitchcock’s famous film adaptation, made only a couple of years after the play’s stage debut, was largely hokey fun. Filmed in 3D, it was a film Hitchcock directed under contractual obligation and in a hurry.  He made best use of miscast Ray Milland and lukewarm Robert Cummings, with only the young Grace Kelly and an excellent John Williams saving it from mediocrity.

Anthony Banks’s jolly revival confronts this head on, acknowledging that not only does the play creak a little, but that its audience very probably knows where it’s going.  The action has been relocated to sometime in the sixties, a clever device that dislocates the production from the film, while nodding to its period roots. Tony Wendice’s dastardly plot to kill his wife is not nearly so shocking in the louche, unbuttoned milieu of swinging London, allowing the audience something close to sympathy for this amoral murderer. Tom Chambers is as light on his feet as he is with his words, dancing nimbly around the stage as he concocts his labyrinthine fibs in what is surely a nod to his “Strictly” success.

It’s as well he was so effective, as the evening got off to a shaky start. Both Sally Bretton and Michael Salami seemed ill at ease as Sally Wendice and her lover Max. Introducing sexual chemistry between them from the outset – as they cavort on an exquisite period sofa – was a bold opening statement of intent, but it was compromised by stiff performances and poor voice projection. We should remember, however, that this was the opening night of only the second venue of the tour, and perhaps cut them some slack. They both improved as the evening went on, and will no doubt get out the starting blocks sooner as the run continues.

Chambers and Christopher Harper (as the disreputable Captain Lescate) faced an altogether different challenge in their first big scene, with Knott’s lengthy exposition left largely (and perhaps unwisely) untouched. The pair had great fun sparring with each other, and was entertaining to watch, but Wendice’s attempt to slowly, oh so slowly, draw the Captain into his web, did go on a bit. Anthony Banks seemed here to briefly forget that the audience knew where this was going, and just wanted to get there - a little judicious editing would have done wonders for pace.

Thankfully, with the set up in place, we moved on to the main business of the evening, introduced by some lovely stagecraft that cleverly suggested the passage of time. As the cast wordlessly moved about David Woodhead’s beautifully realised set, an impending sense of doom pervaded proceedings, before the eponymous murder was handled with stylised lighting and understated action. In the unlikely event that there is someone left on the planet who doesn’t know what happens next, I’ll resist saying who ends up on the floor, but suffice to say what followed was a delightful romp, as Tony Wendice ties himself in knots trying to escape from a trap of his own making.

It’s in the second act and due to the considerable talents of Christopher Harper - back on stage as Inspector Hubbard – when this production really comes into its own. In a significant departure from both film and the implication of the text, Harper plays Hubbard as a cross between Columbo and Gene Hunt. It’s an inspired performance, drawing laughs from the audience for his delivery and angular movements that quickly becomes the hub around which the action turns. Banishing John Williams’s avuncular interpretation to history, Hubbard becomes a tenacious, sarcastic terrier played with a nasty edge. I had assumed Michael Salami’s colour blind casting as Max to be unremarkable, until Hubbard confronts him with clear racist overtones in a scene that is both shocking and dislocating. It’s a moment where the company has their cake and eats it, and I’m not sure it quite works, but the intention to ring the changes was admirable.

In the end, of course, the dénouement demanded that social commentary was dispensed with, and the play’s clever conclusion is delivered relatively straightforwardly. It’s now become standard practice, to the point of cliché, to have the killer punch line provide both a twist and a satisfying conclusion to crime dramas. It’s a testament to the play, and this production, that we got this in a manner that nevertheless delivered all the necessary ingredients – it was fun, wildly improbable, and left everything tied up neatly at the end. This may not have been the serious play Knott aspired to write, but it was hugely entertaining.