THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES

THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES

Theatre at Baddow

30.09.15

I was only aware of one stage version – a 39-Steps-style spoof of a few years back – so was intrigued to see how American playwright Tim Kelly handled this most popular of the Sherlock Holmes novels back in the 70s.

Turns out to be Conan Doyle as re-imagined by Agatha Christie. Wisely, the hound himself is audio only, the moor glimpsed by lightning flashes through the french doors. The action is confined to the sitting room of Baskerville Hall, dominated by a huge portrait of the ill-fated Sir Hugo.

The familiar characters [less Lestrade] come in and out, leaving clues and question-marks behind them. There are six scenes, most of them ending with a melodramatic curtain line and mysterious music.

Dave Hawkes' hyperactive Holmes – crawling under the desk, jabbing at the forehead of Bob Ryall's dapper Doctor Watson – is an impressive “calculating machine”, excitedly piecing together the evidence. And of course he's kitted out with hand lens, deerstalker, inverness and calabash.

Very encouraging to see such good work from the younger cast members: Laura Bradley as the elegant “Miss” Stapleton, Jade Flack as Mrs Lyons, and Bruce Thomson as Sir Henry, resplendent in plus fours.

The plot, devoid of the atmospheric Great Grimpen Mire, sometimes seems preposterous, but the lighting [gas lamps fading convincingly] and the lively pace of John Mabey's production keep the spirit of the original serial alive.

THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES

THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES

Cut to the Chase at the Queen's Theatre Hornchurch

29.10.2012

for The Public Reviews

It worked for The 39 Steps. It worked, in this very same house, for Travels With My Aunt. And now it's the turn of Sherlock – deerstalker, meerschaum, magnifying glass and all – as he solves the mystery of The Hound of the Baskervilles.

This three-man adaptation, a "comedy thriller", retains all the key elements of Conan Doyle's story - hound, moors, family seat, Great Grimpen mire – and cheerfully twists them and sends them up something rotten.

Some might see the influence of Pirandello and Brecht, others panto and Little Britain. Whatever, the result is often excruciatingly funny, with surreal silliness and slapstick galore.

The stage is a spool of film, with old prints projected as a back drop. There is also a movable door, and lots of smoke. Underscoring the silent movie feel, an upright piano stage right, Puccini and Prokofiev pressed into service, played with style and sensitivity by Steven Markwick, who also gives us his coarse yokel.

All the other parts, though, are played by the talented trio of Simon Jessop, who is Watson throughout, Greg Last, who is Baskerville, a cabby, and the butt of many cruel jibes, and Jonathan Markwood, Holmes, both the Stapletons, and, in a glorious Pythonesque moment, a hermit in a post box. They all three embrace the slightly desperate style the piece demands, slipping in and out of character, battling gamely against all odds to keep the show on the road. Jessop makes a bluff, often painfully dim sidekick, Markwood a suave Holmes in the Brett mould, and also enjoys hamming it up as the totally bonkers baddie brother and sister/husband and wife. Last's relative inexperience is played upon, but his performance is in many ways the funniest of the three, as he bumbles through the perilous plot.

Necessity, in this genre, is the mother of invention and improvisation. Amongst many ingenious pieces of inspiration: the train carriage sequence [loved the luggage rack], the cab ride, the mire, the Turkish Bath and the ancestor portraits.

It is a bold move to stop the action a minute or so in for health and safety reasons, and then pick up again after some desultory banter and in-jokes. Even bolder, goaded by a critical interval Tweet, to recap the whole first act at a gallop before embarking on the second. Brilliantly done, piling on the pace, one of the best things in a constantly amusing show.

production photo: Nobby Clark

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews