‘Think of the strain involved!” marvels the compere introducing music-hall act Mr Memory at the start of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1935 film of John Buchan’s novel. Mr Memory logs away 50 new facts each day but the industrious cast of four for Patrick Barlow’s adaptation have managed to learn 130 parts between them.
What I remember most about the hit comedy’s original West End transfer in 2006 is a whirl of ingenious stagecraft continually upping the ante. This revival, arriving at Trafalgar theatre after a tour, proves disappointingly forgettable. Too often you sense the wheels turning instead of losing yourself in the fun. The play should be equal parts thriller, comedy and romance – an ambitious mix – but it doesn’t satisfy on any of those levels.
Barlow adds a prelude with spiffy Richard Hannay in an armchair, recalling how he took himself off to the theatre, where Mr Memory does his act and the plot whirs into gear. There is the occasional suggestion that Hannay is directing, or at least has co-written, this adventure himself as he prods about his co-stars. The show continually revels in its own artifice with a flapped coattail suggesting a storm and a few chairs hastily rearranged to form a car. But you do not get the extra, dizzying layers that come with hammy am-dram comedy The Play That Goes Wrong, where each performer is portraying both an actor and a character, and the joy is in watching them flit from one to the other as even the set turns against them. By contrast, the stakes in The 39 Steps often seem surprisingly low.
Peter McKintosh’s set design continually reminds us we are in a theatre, with an exposed brick back wall and a prominent fire bucket, although the Palladium climax would come alive if the auditorium was also used. A loose picture frame, a steering wheel and a lamppost are all picked up to move scenes along as Hannay finds himself an innocent man on the run, embroiled in espionage.
His rail journey is cleverly conveyed with gusts of smoke, a miniature train and artfully arranged luggage although the homage to one of Hitchcock’s masterstrokes – blending a cleaner’s scream with a train whistle – is underpowered. The film’s noises have a jolting effect – gunshots, alarms, squeaks, even barking dogs – but Mic Pool’s sound design is not given enough emphasis to match Ian Scott’s accomplished lighting.
Shadow puppetry sweetly evokes a chase through forests and past deer and even the Loch Ness monster but the film’s sheep scene – surely crying out for a comic treatment – falls flat. There are fleeting tributes to Hitchcock classics, with the Psycho shower standing in for a waterfall and Vertigo becoming a leaden one-liner. Pace is already a problem in the production (originally directed by Maria Aitken, with the tour directed by Nicola Samer) before an unnecessary interval.
The villains’ machinations remain locked away in a comedy world, without gaining any modern resonance, and there is little sense of Hitchcock’s 30s London populated by bobbies and milkmen. In a show that needs more polished physical comedy, Eugene McCoy stands out for his vivid interpretations. Maddie Rice and Safeena Ladha juggle accents and, like Tom Byrne as Hannay, make a jolly stab at it but the result can sometimes feel less like a thrilling race against the clock and more of a garbled rush.
At Trafalgar theatre, London, until 28 September
