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

★★★★

“The direction is astounding to maintain a delicate balance between a comedy and the central ‘whodunit.’”

Over 13 years since its first performance, Murder, She Didn’t Write is still touring and delighting audiences more than ever as it embarks on a UK tour in 2025. It is an intriguing spin on the classic murder mystery, a narrative framework that, despite the ‘murder,’ we feel comfortable with as we have seen it many times before.

However, it is certain that we haven’t seen this one before. Every night the stars of Degrees of Error act out a new storyline based on plot points that are yet to be determined. Agatha Crust, an obvious nod to the godmother of the genre, is our detective. She chooses one lucky audience member to perform the role of Jerkins, her assistant. From this point on, Jerkins holds the pen as they choose the setting, murder weapon, victim and murderer in this one-off recount. But don’t worry, all is not uncovered until the big reveal.

The play starts slowly as our characters are introduced and the scene is set. Credit should go to the set design (Justin Williams) for producing a backdrop that works remarkably well; however, the story unfolds. Credit should also go costume design and supervisor (Lu Herbert and Charlotte Murray). The costumes are expositions about the characters that we are watching, adding depth and reference and helping us to easily differentiate between our suspects.

The actors take a short time to work their way into the narrative. Most of the first act is about planting the seed for what is to follow. Countless random details are divulged by each of the characters. Some of these will be red herrings, others will be smoking guns. The quick wit of all the cast members is side-splitting. “Waitrose” becomes “Wait Rose!” and “synesthetic” becomes “sin aesthetic” as the audience’s suggestions and earlier events are woven into the narrative.

At times it feels like the show is starting to lose its course before Agatha regains control. The direction (Lizzy Skrzypiec, who also sometimes stars as Agatha) is astounding to maintain a delicate balance between a comedy and the central ‘whodunit.’

Agatha, on stage for the entire performance, is a comforting presence as she watches the story alongside us. It is an exceptional performance as the glue of a production that, despite the impressive improvisation of all of the cast, would possibly not function without her. Predictably, Agatha steals the show in the final chapter when she moves from narrator to detective, and explains, in front of all of the suspects, who committed the murder, just like Poirot did in Murder on the Orient Express. It is a delivery so strong that we are told not why it could be this suspect but how it must be them and could not be anyone else.

The lighting and sound (Adam King and Lucy Baker-Swinburn) are critical to the show and help to steer the plot as much as any of the characters. The choice of music (Sara Garrard) is precise, which acts as an antidote to the chaos surrounding it. The use of short scenes, some as short as 30 seconds, is effective in contributing to the rising tension in the second act, but it does feel as though the play suffers from a lack of continuity, and thus an over-reliance on our narrator.

Despite the characters knowing who the murderer is (before the audience), as we approach the crescendo, we fear that there are too many storylines still spinning, like a magician spinning too many plates. However, we see that none of these spinning plates smash as we are watching magicians on stage.

Tag Archives: Reuben Speed

POSSUM TROT

★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★

“the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed”