Melbourne Reviews

In 1915, John Buchan’s British spy-thriller novel The 39 Steps was published. In 1935, Alfred Hitchcock directed a highly praised film adaptation based on the book. And now in Melbourne, an irreverent reimagining of the story as a stage version (by Patrick Barlow in 2005) is playing at The Comedy Theatre.

Barlow’s work built on Simon Corble and Nobby Dimon’s 1996 radical refashioning of the story for four actors. Here, Ian Stenlake (of numerous roles ranging from musicals to film) is our protagonist, Richard Hannay. He’s back in London after a time working abroad, and at something of a loose end. A trip to the theatre one listless night leads to an encounter with a foreign spy (the first of variously accented female roles capably rendered by Lisa McCune – winner of four gold Logies, and numerous stage credits). She advises that Hannay is now “involved” in counter espionage relating to Britain’s security.

When misadventure calls and people are not what they seem, Hannay has no choice. He must take what little he knows, and hasten to Scotland to advise his only contact. However, with police and goons on his trail, Hannay will (well, should) have to find some untouched reserves of commitment and ingenuity to succeed.

These pursuers, as well as many other minor characters, are played by The Umbilical Brothers – David Collins and Shane Dundas. Their shows (such as The Distraction from 2021) tend to exhibit a particular style of physical comedy, and they are very good at this. For example, they show very precise physical control and synchronisation with lighting and sound. We see this when their movement snaps from slow motion to regular speed, as in a scene on a train.

If you weren’t a particular fan of the style, the schtick of mishaps played for laughs could lose its gloss over time. The action is fixated on gags – some scenes only seem to exist to facilitate some collision or injury. Giving our accomplished actors space to act seems a far lower priority. Much like a production of North By Northwest (another of Hitchcock’s tales about a man on the run) of some years ago, the silliness of the comedy (which here could be further broadened by cartoonish accents), could rob the tale of suspense, or even gravity.

There were also times when we might fear that the production will pull a muscle at how hard it was winking at us, all over some pretty obvious references to Hitchcock’s filmography. The unfortunate cost of some of this is that certain scenes, such as one where Hannay may be forming a romantic entanglement with a woman from the train to Scotland, seem quite unbelievable. Maybe some of the humour might land better if (say like in The Μan with Two Brains) there was a little more real human feeling for it to contrast with?

Some may find greater appeal in the more absurd flashes. A silhouette in a crowd scene, or an idiosyncratic gesture by a professor’s wife, could crisply serve us an amusing surprise.

From a technical standpoint, the show runs like a lovingly maintained Rolls Royce. There are many changes of scenes (often employing some very useful geometric minimalism in Matthew Marshall’s lighting design), and these are all handled smoothly.

As a Scottish farmer’s wife, McCune does well with the accent, an indication of dialect coach Jennifer White’s effectiveness. Other touches contribute to giving us a sense of the interwar period, such as costume designer James Browne’s noir palette. Director Damien Ryan ensures that the kind of character entrances and exits necessary with so few players are snappily done, as well as providing a humorous view of the mechanics of the piece. Collins and Dundas featured in various costume quick changes needed to support this, and showed equally quick wits in improvising when things didn’t quite go to plan. 

If you particularly enjoy physical comedy, as many in the house did on this opening night, then you might well find The 39 Steps a slickly produced outing that leads to a good amount of laughter.