Director: Lizzy Skrzypiec
There are many different styles of murder mystery, but traditionally one of the most popular is the one where a small group of people are together in a fixed space, and one of them is killed. Nobody else can get in so the killer must be – someone in the room.
Murder, She Didn’t Write is one of those, but with one major twist. It’s totally improvised. The location, the key clue? Until the show starts, nobody knows. The victim, the murderer, the method? Nobody knows those either. All we have is a group of characters and a detective and the rest – well, they create it as they go along.
We start with some background music from Sara Garrard at the keyboard – music is a recurring theme throughout, and, rather like a cinema pianist in the days of silent movies, Garrard always managed to pick some appropriate music to suit the action at the time. It’s not overpowering but adds an extra dimension to the events we see. We meet the detective and narrator, Agatha Crusty (Lizzy Skrzypiec) who tells us how things are going to proceed. First she needs an assistant, Jerkins, who is selected from the audience by throwing a hat to see who catches it. If you’re worried about being forced into audience participation outside your comfort zone fear not – all you’re asked to do is choose from a selection of locations and items which have been suggested by the audience, without even leaving your seat.
Armed with our location and key item – at the performance reviewed it was a cushion convention and a pointy pet rock called William – and we meet the cast of five drawn from Degrees of Error’s pool of cast members (this time it’s Rachael Procter-Lane, Peter Baker, Douglas Walker, Sylvia Bishop and Stephen Clements). They’ll be playing different characters with variations on their names, depending on the challenge they are set by the choice of setting and so on, but each is identifiable by a colour.
So it begins, and they embark on performing a mystery without knowing how it will end. The victim is chosen – another task performed by Jerkins, by selecting a card – half-way through act one, and the murderer isn’t selected until well into act two. Meanwhile, the cast need to create characters, relationships and situations which they have to adapt as the performance progresses. If that wasn’t bad enough, Skrzypiec throws them random curve balls from time to time, for example asking someone to name all of their eleven siblings (whose names all begin with V) and other challenges.
Although over time and with experience some stock lines and responses will undoubtedly pop up, the skill of the actors is undeniable and hugely impressive – and they’re also very, very funny. In groups or pairs they appear and converse, with lights suddenly going off them and onto the detective/narrator in the corner who makes some interjection, or sets another challenge, before switching back for them to carry on – possibly with the goalposts having moved mid scene. It’s all guided by the hand of the unseen but no less pivotal cast member, the show editor (Rob Kershaw). The way they navigate the minefield, creating the storyline in such a way that when the murderer is revealed it all makes perfect sense, is a joy to behold.
If you enjoy improvised comedy, or even just a good laugh, this is one to look out for. It’s well worth a visit, and as Skrzypiec points out at the end – if you didn’t enjoy this performance, come back tomorrow and it’ll all be different.
Runs until 17 April 2025 and on tour
Impressive
The Reviews Hub Score
