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Mindreading, hypnosis, precognition and other forms of mentalism are a standard part of a magic show. The audience are made to believe the mentalist can see into their
minds, convince them to suddenly peck around like chickens, or even tell the future. A rather less common trick involves the mentalist using their own mind, performing
complex calculations, or recalling an astounding array of facts on the audience's demand. While this type of mentalism today is more celebrated in TV game shows, these
human search engines were a well-appreciated stage act in the not too distant past. In the Tower Theatre's production of Patrick Barlow's adaptation of John Buchan and
Alfred Hitchcock's The 39 Steps, a 1930s stage mentalist's mind may hold more facts than it is safe to ask for.
At the centre of this tale of thrilling espionage mixed with physical comedy is Richard Hannay, a Wooster-esque dandy played persuasively cockily by Adam Moulder.
Having just returned from Limpopo where his friend was eaten by a crocodile, Hannay feels lounging in his robe at his Portland Square apartment is, in comparison, a
tad dull. His choice of entertainment turns out to be a fateful one. After a rather eventful trip to see Mister Memory's (a wonderful performance from Dom Ward) magic show, Hannay finds himself pulled into an alarmingly fast moving world of spies, counterspies and the fate of the nation.
The female lead is Pamela, who we meet during a thoroughly entertaining train chase scene. Sophie Mackenzie is a convincing 1930s thriller heroine -
cool and haughty, with an icy stare that not even Hannay's rather fetching pencil moustache can melt. Buchan's original story omitted the female lead, the love-interest being Hitchcock's addition, and it certainly is hard to imagine the play without Hannay's counterpart. Pamela and Hannay's arc follows the familiar path of espionage stories, where the poised lady becomes an unwilling party to the gentleman spy's adventure, only to be swayed by his character (and moustache) at the end. Mackenzie and Moulder act together wonderfully, especially in the exaggeratedly dramatic love scene between Hannay and Margaret the farmer's wife (Mackenzie also briefly depicts the foreign femme fatale, Annabella Schmidt), and then when Hannay and Pamela quite literally dance through scenes while being handcuffed to each other.
Some of the most delightful moments of The 39 Steps are provided by Emily Grimson and Dom Ward in their multitude of roles. The sheer pace and energy
of the scenes is breath-taking, with superb moments from the above-mentioned train chase with a perfect pantomime of climbing on a moving train car, to an
acrobatic scene where the actors perform their respective roles inside the same jacket. The riotous set of characters include, among others, a bumbling
duo of train passengers, several inept policemen, a farmer who may be a secret member of the Knights of Ni "Prepare the HERRING!" and the Scottish innkeeper couple where the matron takes no nonsense from anyone. Finally, Grimson as the nemesis of Hannay, Professor Jordan, has the mannerisms of a Bond villain, while Mrs Jordan (Ward) sports another set of fetching moustache. Ward is also fabulous as Mister Memory (and for remembering those facts surely deserves the title in real life too), whose performance bookends the play with a classic showdown.
In The 39 Steps, the set and costumes could be said to serve as the supporting cast. What may initially look like sparse set, a few pieces of wall,
a door, some trunks and ladders, turns out to be a wonderfully adapting toolkit for the lightning-fast change of characters and scenes. In Max Batty's stage design the set pieces unfold in a playful manner, bringing the audience in a comical flow from Hannay's swanky Portland Square flat to Professor Jordan's rural Scottish mansion. Along the way the multitude of characters ramble through the train car (with a whimsical use of black and white projector for the moving landscape), foggy Highland moors, an unlikely rally for the not-exactly-youthful Mr McCrocodile (he'll surely win), and even an airplane attack, all executed in minimalistic perfection. Sheila Burbridge and Peter Westbury's costume design works seamlessly with the props; new outfits appear from trunks, nooks and crannies, and the actors change clothes in a dress-as-you-go style that would be terribly useful to learn for weekday mornings.
Sound is in a central role in the play, and Colin Guthrie's design, operated by Kaushal Ginige, succeeds in evoking the classic thriller themes, the most
enjoyable of which is perhaps the maid's well-timed scream upon finding a body in Hannay's flat. Hitchcockian tunes accompany the most dynamic scenes,
while the train whistles, car engines whine, and the soiree at the Jordan house can be clearly heard through an open/closed/open/closed door. Stephen Ley's lighting
design, operated by Evie Ley delivers in highlighting the scenes of thriller and suspense, from gloomy moors to spotlit villains.
The production, stage managed by Sarah Ambrose, with Ruth Sanderson as Assistant Stage Manager,
functions wonderfully. Keeping such a fast-paced, multi-character play together is surely an achievement. All in all, the play proceeds in a breath-taking speed, but does not feel rushed. Nor does the play forget its thriller core; while the audience often roars with laughter, the slapstick elements do not take over the whole. Director Rob Ellis, therefore, has put together a superb production.
As a final note, here is the solution to what was left unanswered by Mister Memory : Napoleon's horse was called Marengo.
Photography by Robert Piwko
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