The 39 Steps

A dashing hero. A damsel in distress. Train chases, a handcuffed couple running across moors, a spy missing half a finger and every stereotypical Scottish stock character in existence. It can only be John Buchan's The 39 Steps.

For the uninitiated, the story follows adventurer Richard Hannay. With most of his friends either dead or, worse, married, Hannay heads to the theatre for comfort. Instead of an evening's entertainment, he finds himself entangled in a web of espionage and on the run, suspected of murder. It falls to him to stop a ring of spies from stealing government secrets, as well as to clear his name.

As is the case with many of these stories, the plot is ludicrous and implausible. Thankfully, the creative team know this and use it to their advantage. Rather than playing the action straight, everyone's tongue is stuck firmly in their cheek.

The production is actually a witty adaptation of an adaptation, paying homage more to Alfred Hitchcock's film version than to Buchan's original book. Its greatest achievement is that it manages to be both a parody and love letter to the classic film, many times in the same breath. And for the observant, the production includes numerous references to other Hitchcock films (and even a clever cameo of the famed director himself).

Director Maria Aitken manages to hoodwink the audience into believing that an epic is unfolding before them, while keeping things deceptively simple. A door gets pushed around the stage, making it appear as if two characters are walking through a large house. Three trunks become a train, first acting as seats and then as the roof during a chase. A parade of hats allows two actors to become salesmen, cops, ticket collectors and newspaper pushers, all while they stand still. Half of the production's marvel comes from the imaginative use of space, and the creative solutions Aitken comes up with in staging the film.

The rest of the production's success, however, comes from its four fantastic performances. David Michaels shines as Richard Hannay. It's hard playing the straight man in such a production, but Michaels manages to create a character that fits perfectly in the madcap world he's caught in. Clare Swinburne is equally good as the three females: femme fatale Annabella Schmidt, pompous Pamela and, most successfully, young Scottish bride Margaret. But the evening clearly belongs to Alan Perrin and Colin Mace as Man 1 and Man 2. They have the difficult task of constantly shifting characters and moving most of the set pieces. Both played to comedic perfection and earned the night's hardest laughs.

With its imaginative staging and playful heart, The 39 Steps is a thoroughly enjoyable production that both mocks and celebrates the spy genre as well as a long-gone era of British history. It should not be missed.