The Mousetrap (Tour-Bath Theatre Royal)

In it’s sixtieth year of running the biggest mystery of The Mousetrap isn’t about who the killer is but quite how this play has run uninterrupted in the West End for the past sixty years. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with it of course, the mystery is moderately intriguing and both acts build tension as they head towards its climaxes; a murder at the end of the first act and the reveal of who did it at the end of the second. But with its stock characters and its showing its age stereotypes (a strange foreigner with a peculiar sense of humour, a single female writing letters to her ‘dear’ female friend, in almost indedcentyl tight trousers) its all a little unremarkable.

There’s nothing in here which can compete with Agatha Christie’s great detectives Hercules Poirot and Miss Marple apart from in the money it continues to draw to her estate. The story is traditional detective fare, seven characters stranded in a guesthouse when a blizzard hits, all with secrets they wish to conceal, one of them intent on murder. It’s a very traditional tale with perhaps the biggest twist being that there is no twist, everything moves from A to B without deviation. At the curtain call we’re implored by the cast not to reveal the killers identity, but in my case I’d guessed long before the interval. Maybe it’s a sign of the amount of detective stories I consumed as a boy.

The performances suit the writing, workman like rather then inspired. Henry Luxemberg as the charming, brusque husband with something to hide, Helen Clapp as his wife and guesthouse owner and Charlotte Latham as the letter writing guest make impressions whilst Luke Jenkins anchors everything as Sgt Trotter who turns up on skis to investigate.

Its good to finally be able to see what the tourists see when they head out to the West End but outside of crossing one off f the theatrical bucket list there’s nothing much to write home about.