POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★

“the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed”

Apparently, there are five Possum Trots in the United States. In Alabama, Kentucky, Missouri, Texas and Virginia. All of them desolate backwaters – what are referred to as an ‘unincorporated area’, which basically means that they are not really legally recognised as existing. In fact, all that is left of the one in Missouri is a one-room school, a house and a closed down general store. A ghost town, no less. The “Possum Trot” in which Kathy Rucker’s new play is set is fictional, but its title has a ring of truth about it, which is reflected in the natural and authentic depiction of the handful of oddballs that are clinging on to keep their community alive. On top of this, regular tornados further threaten to wipe the town completely off the map.

Rucker’s play explores the challenges encountered by one family as it faces the collapse of the farming community, the exodus of its population and the climate disasters raining down like military attacks, forcing the people to scuttle down to their basement on an almost daily basis. They’re a stoic lot, and humour fuels their determination to carry on. Rucker is focusing on the unpretentious simplicity of everyday life; and what we witness in the short hour-and-a-quarter is the eye of the storm. Aside from a couple of upturned chairs (which happens in blackout) “Possum Trot” is a gentle affair. Almost inconsequential. Like the town itself, it doesn’t appear to be going anywhere.

Maxine (Sarah Berger) runs the fort. Or rather, she runs the only diner in town. Reuben Speed’s set is the real thing. Brilliantly authentic, it transforms the whole space into Maxine’s diner come café come bar come local hub. Berger adds to the realism as she shuffles on in the dismal dawn’s early light to open up for the day, wearing her stoicism like a tattered apron. We think we are in the latter part of the twentieth century until Maxine’s extended family wander in wielding mobile phones and Instagram stories. In particular Neve Francis’ sprightly hypochondriac Billie – the granddaughter whose dream of escaping to art college is about to be realised, despite a very significant personal crisis that pops up – which is never really explored satisfactorily. The middle generation come in the form of chalk and cheese couple, Jeremiah (Nikolas Salmon) and Pru (Dani Arlington). Salmon represents the sense of tradition, desperate to live up to his father’s name, while Arlington’s Pru tries to drag him into the present and get him to sell up the farm. If the dwindling economy doesn’t soon kill off the cattle, the weather will. A comic moment involves the rescuing of a poor cow who finds itself on the roof after a particularly bad Kansas-like gale.

In the family’s midst is village local, Duane (Todd Boyce) and his stream of bad dad-jokes which repeatedly misfire, deliberately failing to puncture the chaotic dramas unfolding within the close-knit family. Scott Le Crass respectfully directs by playing down the drama, avoiding heightened histrionics. These are ordinary people after all, and the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed. It starts with a wake (Maxine is recently widowed), continues with a celebration (the diner is fifty years old) and ends with a joke (which unfortunately has little to do with the narrative).

Like the landlocked town of Possum Trot itself, Rucker’s play is neither here nor there. Yet there is an appealing, understated charm that does draw you in; like you’re discovering a single episode of a soap opera. We find ourselves wanting more. If only we could scroll through to the back stories, or forward to future instalments. And Hannah Bracegirdle’s country-tinged soundtrack is spot on; from Bruce Springsteen’s opening harmonica of ‘Nebraska’, through to the closing notes of Bob Dylan’s achingly beautiful ‘Shelter from the Storm’. This play won’t necessarily kick up a storm, but its mix of poignancy and humour is quietly soothing, like the muffled roll thunder heard from a safe distance.

POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

Reviewed on 14th November 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Bonnie Britain

Previously reviewed at this venue:

WODEHOUSE IN WONDERLAND | ★★★★ | July 2025

THE BUSINESS OF MURDER | ★★★ | October 2024

DUET | ★★★ | April 2024

THE SECRET GARDEN | ★★★★ | December 2023

ABOUT BILL | ★★★★★ | August 2023

POSSUM TROT

★★★

“inventive, stylised and almost cinematic”

Imagine if you could live your life like a movie set, and you were the director. If things weren’t going quite the way you wanted, you could call “Cut!” and re-run the scene with the desired outcome. Tom Ripley has gained this advantageous gift in Mark Leipacher’s touring adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s “The Talented Mr Ripley”. It is a neat theatrical device applied to a character who lives, not just on his wits, but by the skin of his teeth. Unfortunately, though, it does chip away at the sympathy we are supposed to feel for this con artist and serial killer. The perverse beauty of Highsmith’s creation is that it is near impossible not to root for Tom Ripley, despite his psychotic tendencies. The emotional engagement is dampened which, in turn, undermines the suspense.

That said, Ed McVey is fascinating and charismatic as Tom Ripley. Overflowing with energy he is onstage throughout, commanding our attention and drawing us into his subterfuge by alternately addressing the audience before plunging back again into the thrilling story. Like unwitting accomplices, we tag along as his life spirals deeper into deception. Ripley is at a bit of a dead end, scraping by as a small time grifter until approached by shipping magnate Herbert Greenleaf (a cool Christopher Bianchi) who sets the wheels of Ripley’s adventures in motion. Herbert’s son, Dickie (Bruce Herbelin-Earle), is living it up in Italy showing no signs of coming home. Mistakenly believing Ripley to be a close friend of Dickie’s, Herbert offers him an all expenses paid trip to persuade the wayward son to return home. Eyeing a way out of the mess his life has become in America – and a free holiday – Ripley readily accepts. Thus begins his murderous journey.

It is a fast-paced journey, the sense of location created almost single handedly by Zeynep Kepekli’s lighting; a series of neon fluorescent tubes that transport us from the buzz of New York City nightlife to an Italian sunset, and into the depths of the Mediterranean Sea. The stark blackness of Holly Pigott’s set allows shadowy figures to prowl and watch from the sidelines, ever circling and closing in. The ensemble cast break away from the shadows to take on multiple supporting roles. But the focus is on Ripley and his ill-fated victims.

Herbelin-Earle, as Dickie, is refreshingly humble for a playboy of such privilege. Easy-going and relaxed, his voice is a touch more stilted however, as it searches for depth that isn’t really there. Maisie Smith, as Dickie’s frustrated girlfriend Marge, is down to earth, making good use of her underwritten role. Sometimes the secondary roles fare better. Cary Crankson steps out of the ensemble to play a convincing Freddie Miles, almost succeeding in tripping up and exposing Ripley before adding to the body count.

Leipacher’s production is inventive, stylised and almost cinematic. The first act flirts with film-noir while the second half homes in more on the plot twists as the pace quickens and the cat and mouse game gets in full swing, even if the suspense factor manages to escape the chase. Ripley spends a lot of the time thinking on the spot, making it up just so he can get out of his latest scrape. Leipacher’s “The Talented Mr Ripley” is quite the opposite. It is creatively and finely thought out from start to finish. Imaginative, clever, innovative and despite the theatrical trickery, respectfully faithful to Highsmith’s original.

Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

POSSUM TROT

★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★

“the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed”