Princeton, New Jersey—For a guaranteed good time, get to the McCarter Theatre, where Ken Ludwig has adapted Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express for the stage—and for artistic director Emily Mann to release some of New York City’s best character actors onto the blissfully convoluted plot.
It’s not only Manhattan thesps afoot, since, as Hercule Poirot, Mann has imported UK reliable Allan Corduner, who can be checked out for his Mitch Leigh film work and is a welcome Poirot now.
Okay, don’t think because you’ve read the mystery—initially published in 1934 as Murder in the Calais Coach—and therefore you know how Christie ends it with one of her most surprising wrap-ups, that your enjoyment of this new entry will be hampered.
Not by a country mile. The fun of this Murder on the Orient Express is watching it take place with these talented actors juggling it live. The fun of this version is also in the creative team Mann has assembled to make the stage transformation.
Every one is a top-drawer Manhattan hand. Beowulf Boritt designed the set, a stylized coach that shifts right and left as the action unfolds. The costumes, meant to look trés 1934 are by William Ivey Long and are a fashion parade in themselves. Paul Huntley did the wigs, Ken Billington the lighting, Darron L. West the sound.
If you know New York City program credits, you know the above names represent the kind of team commandeered for a production expected to transfer to the Great White Way. Nevertheless, no plans of that nature have been announced yet—or even leaked. So wise theatergoers will seize the opportunity in front of them and travel off.
Those who don’t know the novel (or the Sidney Lumet-directed 1974 movie, for which Ingrid Bergman won her third Oscar) have the entire treat waiting. They can guess along with Poirot which of the seemingly disparate suspects on the snowbound coach headed from Istanbul across Europe bumped off wicked businessman Samuel Ratchett (Max von Essen, fresh out of the Mint’s Yours Unfaithfully and again in a non-singing role).
Was it aging Princess Dragomiroff (hilariously cool Veanne Cox)? Was it brassy Ellen Hubbard (Julie Halston, who only has to step on stage to get laughs)? Was it Countess Andrenyi (Alexandra Silber, who also doesn’t get to sing)? Was it Colonel Arbuthnot (von Essen again)? Was it Mary Debenham (Susannah Hoffman), Hector MacQueen (Juha Sorola), Michel the conductor (Mahoud Ebrahimzadeh,) Greta Ohlsson (Samantha Steinmetz) or Monsieur Bouc (Evan Zes)?
Complicating matters is the cumulative discovery that each of those aboard turns out to have a connection to the diabolical Ratchett. Each has a connection to young Daisy Armstrong (Ivy Cordle), who in an opening sequence is seen abducted and who is eventually killed. (Christie had to have had the 1932 Lindbergh baby kidnapping in mind when she began writing.)
As Poirot questions the motley suspects, they get to make patrons laugh in delight while outguessing themselves. Few these days need to be told that Cox and Halston are double-barreled hoots, but all cast members are working at the top of their estimable forms and look to be having a helluva time doing so..
When I saw the production just after opening, I thought the first act had some pacing wrinkles, but that’s the sort of deterrent that’s quickly overcome the more the play is played. Otherwise, this Murder on the Orient Express is New York-ready.
One last Ludwig change: When Poirot finally solves the mystery, he’s faced with a moral dilemma. The Belgian detective makes more of this than he has in previous versions. Perhaps that’s in line with current guilt-innocence pondering. It definitely leaves the audience weighing the pros and cons of murder as they exit. As for the entire enterprise, it’s all pros.