Murder, She Didn’t Write – Floral Pavilion

We embark on this evening with a little bit of a mystery of our own: do we have press tickets? Fortunately, we did, although not a press night. But no programme so that’s where I could slip up, getting the characters’ names wrong; just have to colour them in. For that matter, when is a review not a review? When a play is not a play. As this hilarious show is based on improvisation, it’ll be totally different every time, so we’ll just try and give you a taste of it. And for it.

But while we’re nitpicking, the staging is rather odd; it may be intended to be versatile, a setting for no matter what venue, because that is chosen at random by the audience, along with various props (and choosing a card to pinpoint victim and villain), but it resembles an unsuccessful antique emporium, or a junk shop, cluttered with umpteen cupboards and bookcases, yet little of it utilized, other than a chaise longue. However, the cast use mime for actions such as baking a cake or evoking a scene: a seesaw in the bathroom. Yes, that’s what I said; some of the solutions they come up with are quite surreal.

But to set the scene, and to get the whole thing going, Detective Agatha Crusty is in charge, and who better than Lizzy Skrzypiec (who is also the director) to get the show on the road from her neat little study at the side of the stage; complemented on the left by pianist Sarah Garrard to emphasise the dramatic bits. It begins with audience participation including singling out associate, Jerkins; described as incompetent, he nevertheless enters into the spirit of the thing.

On to the splendidly talented cast, via colour chart as I say: the two married couples, Mrs Violet and Mr Red; Mr Green and Gala Bingo (couldn’t forget that name), aka Ms Gold. And Mr Blue, the writer, and here’s where improv seemed to involve telepathy because it turns out that he and Mr Red’s wife have history. In a nutshell, and in order, Caitlin Campbell hails from Ohio and hates fun as much as Douglas Walker loves it. Again, foppish Peter Baker adores enthusiastic, sexy Gala, but hates his brother, Mr Blue. As regards the latter, Stephen Clements is,  just, the best of the bunch with an amazing knack for reaction. No matter what is thrown at him, he has the answer, and it’s more or less logical every time. That said, once or twice, when at a loss, he murmurs an excuse about being English, which suggests that he may rely on falling back on that.

Douglas Walker also shines with an uncanny gift for puns, even if some are shoehorned in slightly holding up the action. But he can be forgiven for gems like ‘Anyone for Tennessee?’ in a discussion about US states; a match for Mr Blue’s heavyweight tome ‘Missouri Loves Company’…There is a lot of wordplay. And mischief, with the occasional switch to the Detective, sometimes to add clarity; she makes copious notes to keep up with it all, summing up events for the audience’s benefit, But she also chucks things unexpectedly into the mix, adding to the chaos. For example, suggesting Mrs Violet is an expert who can tell us all about on her home state of Ohio. She clearly has no clue, so this idea is thrown around the cast like a hot potato: Mr Blue should know because he’s written a book about it…

Perhaps it’s just as well trying to describe the plot is superfluous, being a one off,  and one night only, because it was so convoluted,  it’d be damn near impossible. Highlights include the cast’s interpretations: a Swingers’ night (because it’s the Wirral of course) is quite literally with a huge rope in the garden. And a golden pineapple could be said to play a vital role. The point is that it all comes together, somehow, with crazy, inventive logic, and has a successful outcome.

Although the theatre was not packed out, a very enthusiastic audience was clearly pleased not to have missed out on an ingenious, highly entertaining evening.

Reviewer: Carole Baldock

Reviewed: 20th March 2025

North West End UK Rating: