A better ‘Mousetrap’? No — that’s the point
How do you kill that which does not die? That’s the central mystery to “The Mousetrap,” which, 66 years after its debut, is being performed at the Alley Theatre, again, as a museum piece, as a purely historical work that remains as stiff and linenbound as a mummy at the Met. This Agatha Christie play is often called a classic, meaning not that it holds up today but that this “original” (which, of the genre, it’s not) feels, by nature of it spawning so many clichés, like a retread.
But in 2018, when getting a month of Netflix, MoviePass, Amazon, Spotify and Hulu combined costs less than the $80 ticket to this show, one must ask: Why this piece? Why now? Who cares? Do these answers exist? Cue the suspenseful piano.
Outside of “The Christmas Carol,” “The Mousetrap” might be one of the most difficult plays in existence to review. Critical reception following its 1952 debut might have played a role in audience reception, but today reviews for “The Mousetrap” typically speak of how artists “revive,” so to speak, this old work with the “magic” of live performance. The reviews complain about the tiredness of the choice, then sprinkle praise on the actors’ ability to interpret Christie’s lines. Nine times out of 10, all this is nonsense. Pretentious, obligatory nonsense.
Well, since we’re here, let’s have some: Jay Sullivan has a fun accent as Sergeant Trotter. Todd Waite, as Paravicini, is good. Alice Gatling, as Mrs. Boyle, is good. Dylan Godwin is excellent and predictable in reinterpreting Christopher Wren as a gay artist with a traumatic past. They’re all good. Director James Black oversees a funnier-than-average production through the subtle use of pauses between lines.
They stick to the craft, have fun and make people laugh. The Alley company remains surgical. And “The Mousetrap” seems to be bringing in the kind of money to subsidize actual art. (The production is sponsored by a large oil-and-gas company and has sold enough tickets to extend its run.)
But the fact remains that the Alley is using a valuable spot on the main stage to serve up the theatrical equivalent of filet mignon — expensive, European, static.
Sure, some say filet mignon is a perfectly fine choice of dinner. It’s a classic. You’re guaranteed a level of execution if you know the restaurant. Sometimes, if you have nothing better to do with your life, you’d wax poetic about the steak and call it exquisite.
But call a review about “The Mousetrap” for what it is — the same thing as hearing what some guy has to say about that steak he had at that French restaurant the other night. It’s a production enjoyed, for the most part, by privileged people. To the rest of the world: There, I’ve just wasted five minutes of your time. Feel free to go to the Alley and do the same for two hours. Or not.