Book: Caroline Slocock
Music: John Cameron, Francis Rockliff and James Reader
Lyrics: Caroline Slocock and John Cameron
Director: Andy Morahan
The story of Ruth Ellis has lost none of its relevance. Britain’s last executed woman, caught in a web of violence, class and misogyny, arrives at Wilton’s Music Hall in a new musical that is thoughtful, well-staged, and with a good cast.
Caroline Slocock’s book frames the action around Ellis’s final hours in her cell, visited by a man she does not yet know is her executioner. From here, her recollections and admissions loop us back through the events that led her to the gallows. It is a structure that lends itself to tension and inevitability, and the script handles it with clarity and restraint.
The design leans into a noir aesthetic without overwhelming the space, and the technical elements are finely judged – projections showing scenes at the time are shown intermittently to great effect. The storytelling is lucid, the tone controlled. Bibi Simpson and Hannah Traylen, sharing the role of Ellis across timelines, offer performances that align with precision, creating a cohesive portrait of a woman both defiant and undone.
And yet, as a musical, Ruth never quite justifies itself.
The songs, while competently assembled, rarely deepen the drama or shift the emotional temperature. Instead, they sit alongside the action rather than emerging from it, halting momentum at precisely the moments it should tighten. There is a slackness to the phrasing, with pauses that dissipate tension and leave emotional beats underpowered. Some of them seem to exist simply for the sake of it, not because it advances the plot in any way.
Musical theatre characters ought to be compelled to sing when speech is no longer sufficient to contain them. Here, the opposite is often true. Many of the numbers feel like interruptions, their presence raising a fundamental question about the necessity of music within the piece.
It is a pity, because the material itself is strong. Ellis’s story remains potent, and the production is crafted with care. But without a score that propels rather than pauses, the piece struggles to generate the emotional force it seeks. In its current form, removing the music would leave a good one-act play, but as it is, it’s a rather drawn-out affair, far less dramatic and impactful than the story deserves.
Runs until 28 March 2026
