And Then There Were None review

Once the plot is in gear, the production becomes visually more playful. Designer Mike Britton employs a gauze to give flashbacks of the characters’ crimes a haziness. As the stakes are raised, the dining-room interiors dissolve until we are left with a table on a remote beach. Chris Davey’s lighting also plays tricks: a chandelier flickers, a wall turns a deep, sinister blue and creepy figurines glow a fierce white at each fresh death, as if suddenly animated.

The story is condensed, and while we don’t miss the repetitive finger-pointing of this whodunnit, there are moments that could do with unpacking. A death by bee sting in particular, though brilliantly gory, goes unexplained. By way of compensation, Bailey’s direction dials up the sexual tension between Joseph Beattie’s wielding Phillip Lombard and Sophie Walter’s slightly mechanical, sultry Vera Claythorne. We are permitted plenty of opportunity to study the faces of Katy Stephens’ rudely virtuous Emily Brent or David Yelland’s solemnly sanguine Judge Wargrave for clues.

There are twists within the backstories of Bailey’s characters and in her denouement, which, while based on Christie’s original, is neater and more thrilling in its horror.

This may not run and run like Witness, or indeed the West End institution that is The Mousetrap, which is still going strong after 70 years. But it is still a thrilling night at the theatre that will keep those who don’t know guessing.