Less is Morse with this chiller of a thriller

REVIEW: Inspector Morse: House of Ghosts – Malvern Theatres (Tuesday, February 24 to Saturday, February 28).

Showtime! stars rating: *  *  *  *

IT takes just a little bit of time for the grumpy old policeman we all hate to love to reassure us that Colin Dexter’s immortal creation is alive, well and still eagerly trimming his ever-shortening fuse.

There was a couple close behind us as we left the theatre on this first night, and I overheard the man say that Tom Chambers as Morse hadn’t nailed it for him. Well, I sort of know what he meant, but there again back in the day, the John Thaw approach was not just Morse, but perhaps very much Thaw himself in character.

Be that as it may, Tom Chambers doesn’t really start to grimace and grump until the second half. So… you could say it’s a case of less is Morse.

Chambers delivers a very different time-worn, world-weary cop, so – unlike the chap behind me - it’s probably best that we temporarily banish memories of the long-running TV series from our minds once we've entered the auditorium.

In fact, nowhere do we get the impression that we’re down the Oxford city nick in the presence of a permanent bad temper fuelled by too much drink, fags, late nights and an OCD attitude to crosswords and classical music.

Anyway, this time we find Morse investigating the rather unpleasant onstage death of an actor during a performance of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

Shards of ground glass in a goblet of wine is not everyone’s idea of a tipple, and this particular shuffling off the mortal coil is all the more unpleasant because it turns out that the victim is five weeks’ pregnant.

Morse’s punchbag, long-suffering oppo Lewis is played with all the required stoicism by Tachia Newall. The relationship is not so much boss and drone, rather controlling father and submissive son, which is possibly why this sorcerer’s apprentice always displays endless patience and fortitude.

Lewis’ sole aim in life seems to be an off-duty night spent with the missus, a plate of steak and kidney pie, bottle of red, and who knows what might follow, bearing in mind the kids will hopefully be at the in-laws for the night.

Like a dog with a bone, our favourite sleuth gets his teeth into the mystery. The setting is, of course, the city of dreaming spires, so it will surprise no one that this is where the ‘ghosts’ element of this play comes in.

Ellen (Teresa Banham) is not so much an old flame, rather the barely glowing ember that Morse would dearly like to rekindle. Sadly, for him though, this lady’s not for burning, or anything else for that matter. Her cat’s bottom pursed lips say it all as a doe-eyed Morse misreads the signals and leans forward.

Jason Done as Lawrence makes for a marvellous over-the-top stage director as he bellows and struts around in an appalling pair of leather trousers, a theatrical cockerel on the dung heap who will fittingly soon literally be very much immersed in the dark stuff, courtesy of Morse’s persistent interrogative style.

However, out-shouting even loudmouth Lawrence is luvvie from hell Verity (Charlotte Randle) a hyperactive creature that endlessly prances, preens, pecks, picks and probes like a starling on a bird table. Endlessly entertaining.

Alma Cullen’s story – based on the Dexter characters – holds together reasonably well, although it does take time to really feel in the zone.

Verdict? A fine piece of theatre from Melting Pot and the Rep, but you do need to suspend any preconceptions before taking your seat this week at the Festival Theatre.