Spot On! Kinetic’s ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’ Delivers Precisely What Not To Expect

Perhaps the hardest of theatre genres to review are whodunnits. That’s because a good murder-mystery is all about deceiving the audience’s expectations. We who love to solve a crime are, from the opening curtain, certain we won’t. In fact, we armchair sleuths had better not identify the murderer by the play’s end lest we feel grossly cheated. What whodunnit audiences enjoy most is, of course, being fooled in the most creative, ingenious and challenging way. It’s a feat that even great writers find hard to pull off. But, cheerio, Agatha Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, adapted by Mark Shanahan and now playing at Carnegie Stage under the direction of Andrew Paul and Kinetic Theatre Company through August 30, is one of the best. And that’s what makes a review of this awesome production so hard to write. But, sorry, mate… I can’t divulge why!.  

I can tell you that a great whodunnit often comprises 75% exposition, 15% action, and 10% absolving the innocent while revealing the murderer. As such, with every character introduced, we are asked to suspect his or her motives. Our assumptions get challenged (and twisted) as more and more characters enter the story. And, while we know full well there can only be one murderer, that means the great majority of characters—perhaps guilty of any number of minor sins—are ultimately not guilty of the greatest of sins, murder. That’s the basis of a good murder-mystery from which Dame Agatha creatively, ingeniously, and challengingly broke every rule in her extraordinary career in print and on stage.

First, I highly recommend that anyone venturing out for a fun summer’s night include a classic whodunnit. It’s a long-lost staple of early summer stock theatre when an ensemble of actors (and typically a whole crew of college interns) staged three or more productions from mid-June to mid-August. Secondly, it’s rare to enjoy any play in modern days that calls for more than three actors on stage. Large casts are just too expensive (for obvious reasons of payroll, costuming, and logistics.) The Murder of Roger Ackroyd demands twelve actors. That’s right, twelve! And there’s no middling chorus line, no subservient phalanx of soldiers, and nary a gaggle of villagers who are only there to set a mood and then disappear. Here we have twelve characters played by twelve actors. And they are all great.

Once again, I am hereby challenged not to spoil the mystery by presenting these excellent players in any order that might portend their relative guilt or innocence. Of course, every character is meant to be suspect until the final curtain. So, let’s start with Hercule Poirot, the infamous Belgian detective of Agatha Christie’s early novels. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was, in fact, the third mystery Christie wrote with Poirot as her detective, yet it was the very first of her popular mystery novels to be adapted for the stage. (It ran successfully in London’s West End under the title, Alibi, and then, later, on Broadway.)

Veteran actor of Kinetic Theatre’s thirteen years in Pittsburgh, Sam Tsoutsouvas is a fantastic, bombastic, and always self confident Hercule Poirot. Last seen on Carnegie’s stage in Christopher Hampton’s suspenseful Embers, Tsoutsouvas commands the stage, even opening the second act with a deliberative treatise on the personal costs of being a detective. As Agatha Christie wrote, “To catch a murderer, one must learn to think like a murderer. The pursuit, it takes a toll.” For playing his own take on the complexities of Poirot’s character, Tsoutsouvas is owed much. Indeed, the debt we owe a shining actor in a shining role can never be fully repaid.

A Pittsburgh newcomer, Christopher Kelly takes on the role of the play’s narrator, Dr. James Sheppard, reminiscing the tale of Roger Ackroyd’s murder. As the village physician, he inserts himself into the story only because he has attended to the medical needs of a wealthy widow with whom Roger Ackroyd was thought to have had a secret affair. Of course, hardly news to the both of them, Roger Ackroyd summons Dr. Sheppard to his grand estate to share yet another unfounded rumor. Christopher Kelly plays his role with good humor and reserved tolerance for the wild and lame tales that the townsfolk chatter. 

A significant participant in that chatter is Caroline Sheppard, the good doctor’s sister, with whom he lives. Caroline Sheppard is played by Sheila McKenna, charming and delightful on stage, yet befitting her personable character who becomes the object of Hercule Poirot’s affection.

Darren Eliker is Roger Ackroyd, admired for his wealth and strength, not to mention his country estate, a house so large it is managed by three characters: most prominently, Helen Russell, Ackroyd’s secretary, stoically performed by Brandi Welle; parlormaid Ursula Bourne, played beautifully by Jandi Linde; and, yes, a wise and elderly butler, Parker, a role James Fitzgerald takes on with aplomb (and hearty harrumphs) because, of course, he’s a great actor who knows well that any good murder-mystery must have a butler to suspect seriously. 

But there are many more characters who Roger Ackroyd entertains during this weekend in the country. He has invited his childhood friend and hunting companion, Major Hector Blunt, played handsomely by David Whalen. Blunt’s sister and Ackroyd’s sister-in-law Gertrude is also a guest. Helena Ruoti is fabulous in this role in that the free “hospitality” she imbibes gives way to her insecurities as a mother whose daughter, Flora, is betrothed to Roger Ackroyd’s nephew, Captain Ralph Paton. Strange as that relationship may sound (and it may have seemed less so to British audiences in 1926), both Paton, played by Nai’ron Arnett, and Flora, embodied by Mia Laverne, are pleasantly matched and polished performers.  

And that leaves us with one more character to admire, that of the insistent Inspector Raglan, the village’s own police detective. Simon Bradbury leads us convincingly to understand that police protocol is at humorous odds with the inestimable mind of Hercule Poirot, who is involved in this murder only because he just so happened to have retired in the small village. Bradbury and Tsoutsouvas offer up some good laughs and odd clarity not unlike Watson and Holmes famously do for their own franchise.

Like a fast-paced French farce, a great whodunnit can only be as good as the set on which it’s staged. Both require a lot of room, that is, stage space to provide for several rooms, seen into or not seen, but represented at the least by a number of doors that must open and close at just the right moments. Kinetic’s set design is magical. Thus, by deduction, so, too, are the talents of Johnmichael Bohach as scenic designer and Andrew Ostrowski as lighting designer. The single set represents five different locations without confusion, and passages of day, night, and necessary storms are well accomplished, assisted by Mark Whitehead’s great sound design. 

Kimberly Brown is owed significant credit for the costuming; women who are guests at a country estate must wear appropriate attire at appropriate times. Designer Brown makes that quite apparent. And last, but hardly least, is rare credit owed to the often forgotten Prop Master; Giulia Giampapa pulls it all together with murderous instruments, curios, and other physical evidence that all befit the time and era of Agatha Christie’s first staged murder. To that effect, Lisa Ann Goldsmith coached appropriate dialects. And Caroline Yacono managed all of these stage elements in a production that demands exceptional attention and timing.

One must truly love great murder mysteries to take on the director’s role which, by doing so, mandates that he or she be smarter than the show’s smartest detective. Andrew Paul proves both in this incredible production. With so many characters, so many entrances and exits, and so much to expose (or hide) at just the right moment, Paul doesn’t miss a beat. 

Indeed, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is so much fun, don’t be fooled by how much work it takes to stage. A great whodunnit, a great cast, and a great set make this a summer’s night to remember.

Photos by Rocky Raco.

C. Prentiss Orr is a Pittsburgh-based writer who covers theater and other topics for Entertainment Central. He is the author of the books The Surveyor and the Silversmith and Pittsburgh Born, Pittsburgh Bred.

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