Tag Archives: Simon Slater

RUTH THE MUSICAL

★★★

Wilton’s Music Hall

RUTH THE MUSICAL

Wilton’s Music Hall

★★★

“The score, though, is an eclectic delight with vocal performances that are quite magical”

A few years ago, one might have been thrown off balance by the prospect of a musical about a convicted murderer and the last woman to be hanged in the United Kingdom. But it is a sign of the times that, in an age where no subject matter escapes the songfest treatment, barely an eyebrow is raised. But that hasn’t curbed the curiosity and anticipation that has surrounded “Ruth: The Musical”; the story of Ruth Ellis who shot and killed her violent, upper-class lover. A story of love, death, obsession, sex, jealousy and murder.

Ruth Ellis’ life has been covered in film and TV, but this stage adaptation goes a step further with its quest to empathise with her. It is a tall order which will surely provoke debate, but it adds contrasting and dramatic layers to a character who is chiefly recognised by mugshots and newspaper headlines. It is these headlines that open the show, projected onto the back wall of the atmospheric Wilton’s Music Hall stage, as dry ice snakes its way out of the wings, followed by the cast, silhouetted against the monochrome backdrop. We are in film noir territory, enhanced by an emotive and powerful ensemble opening number.

Written by Caroline Slocock and co-composed by John Cameron, Francis Rockliff and James Reader, it features Ruth at three stages of her life. ‘Cell Ruth’ (Bibi Simpson) is the first we meet. Ben Bull’s video design evocatively suggest the stark prison cell in which Ruth sits in conversation with Pierrepoint (a wonderfully down to earth yet mysterious Ian Puleston-Davies), one of the prison staff, whose specific job description I have to resist giving away. Between them they are looking back over Ruth’s life. Simpson cuts a hypnotic figure while her affected upper-class accent cleanly slices the muddy acoustics of the hall. The bulk of the story is portrayed in flashback by Hannah Traylen as ‘Past Ruth’, the nightclub ‘hostess’, surrounded by her lovers, colleagues and cohorts. Tagged onto the narrative is the appearance of ‘Young Ruth’ (Me-Li Yap) which seeks, less successfully, to demonstrate the abuse she received at the hands of her father.

Under the co-direction of Andy Morahan and Denise Silvey, the staging is beautifully executed (excuse the pun). Full of split levels and split scenes, the transitions from pre to post murder are seamless. The fact we already know the outcome heightens the poignancy of Ruth’s earlier struggles as she tries to make her way in the male-dominant, class-conscious society she has chosen. Traylen’s ‘Past Ruth’ is as equally a tragic figure as her resigned older self, but with more defiance. The story focuses on her chaste relationship with the devoted Desmond (John Faal) and the intense love affair with posh but penniless racing driver, David Blakely (Connor Payne). The stakes are somewhat low, however, and although the bullets may fly, the sparks never leave the ground. Payne’s ill-fated Blakely is uninspiring, stripping away any belief we might have in the fatal attraction he is supposed to ignite in Ruth. Much of the dialogue is delivered on one level and the emotional peaks invariably feel unearned.

The musical numbers, likewise, appear unearned at times. The score, though, is an eclectic delight (especially in the first act) with vocal performances that are quite magical. Late night jazz rubs shoulders with soulful ballads and rousing ensemble chorales; with a surreal comedy number thrown in to break up the seriousness of the courtroom scene. John Cameron’s filmic and sultry arrangements complement the narrative in what is more of a play with music rather than a musical. There is an undeniable glossy sheen to the show which only hints at the darkness beneath. We would like a more dangerous and grittier illustration that digs deeper. There is a quite crucial reveal for example, in the lead up to Ruth’s hanging, that could have been expanded upon. Otherwise, the elements are all present – the blonde femme fatale, the violent hard-drinking lover, the smoking pistol, the trial and the execution – even if the passion and the shock value elude us. Although not to die for, it is definitely a show to keep in one’s sights. The aim is right – it hasn’t quite reached the target yet.



RUTH THE MUSICAL

Wilton’s Music Hall

Reviewed on 19th March 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Charlie Flint


 

 

 

 

RUTH THE MUSICAL

RUTH THE MUSICAL

RUTH THE MUSICAL

A THING OF BEAUTY

★★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

A THING OF BEAUTY

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★★

“refuses to pass judgement, leaving instead a residue of discomfort that invites reflection on where one has turned a blind eye”

A Thing of Beauty confronts head-on a discomfiting question: should artistic brilliance be allowed to exist independently of moral responsibility? Writers Wendy Oberman and Jonathan Lewis have created a gripping drama in which ambition and manipulation battle truth and integrity, and the audience is caught squarely in the firing line.

Set in October 1972, the play imagines an in-depth BBC interview with Leni Riefenstahl. She was a highly-accomplished German filmmaker during the Nazi period. Her revolutionary techniques inspired George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, yet her legacy was permanently over-shadowed by her service to Nazi ideology.

Imogen Stubbs is magnetic in her portrayal of a woman whose charm, vanity and self-justification coexist in uneasy balance. Referring to herself in the third person throughout, Leni simultaneously elevates her achievements and distances herself from the uncomfortable truth they represent. It is hard to feel much sympathy, despite her protestations about a difficult childhood and an all-consuming creative drive. That she achieved such creative dominance within a regime that prescribed domesticity for women adds a further uncomfortable layer, one the play leaves the audience to sit with.

Tony Bell is a convincing Harry, the BBC interviewer who must maintain professional focus whilst simultaneously confronting his own demons. He is, by turns, vulnerable to Leni’s considerable charms and fiercely critical of her motives. The interview becomes an electric psychological duel: intimate, taut and genuinely unsettling.

The ensemble of Tony Boncza, Harry Bradley, Thomas Craig, Sophie McMahon and Harry Rundle provide a compelling dramatic frame; their on-stage presence as waiting crew members sharpens the sense that everyone here has something to conceal. The production’s most pointed observation is that Leni is far from alone in placing ambition (dressed up as art) above everything else.

Juliette Demoulin’s spare set is stripped back to essentials, letting the verbal exchanges carry full weight. Mark Dymock’s lighting shifts with quiet precision between the clinical and the conspiratorial, while Simon Slater’s understated sound design steadily deepens the creeping unease. Director Jonathan Lewis, who also co-wrote the piece, keeps pacing taut throughout, resisting the temptation to over-signpost the ethical questions and allowing their implications to surface with admirable restraint.

That restraint is ultimately the production’s defining strength. A Thing of Beauty refuses to pass judgement, leaving instead a residue of discomfort that invites reflection on where one has turned a blind eye, sidestepped the truth or been complicit. Produced by Denise Silvey for Cahoots Theatre Company, this assured world premiere offers no comfort, only the unsettling recognition that history’s most beautiful images may conceal its most troubling truths.



A THING OF BEAUTY

Theatre at the Tabard

Reviewed on 26th February 2026

by Elizabeth Botsford

Photography by Matt Hunter


 

 

 

 

A THING OF BEAUTY

A THING OF BEAUTY

A THING OF BEAUTY