Dial "M" for Murder

From the Director

Critics tend to dismiss thrillers as a kind of second-rate theater. The combination of their commercial success and their melodramatic plots means that most mystery dramas can make a killing at the box office, but aren’t often invited to join the canon of western dramatic literature.

I suppose it makes sense. It is easy to feel tricked by a thriller. What baffles us, thrills us, misleads us, and titillates us can seem a little cheap once the pieces of the puzzle have all fallen into place. Mystery writers—more so than almost any other kind—play with us. And we often wake up the next day feeling a bit used, as if the theatrical journey was nothing more than a cheap bag of tricks that lured us in and left us empty.

But if there is some reason for the critical disdain, there is great worth in the handful of exceptions. Patrick Hamilton’s Angel Street, Ira Levin’s Deathtrap, J.R. Priestley’s An Inspector Calls and Anthony Shaffer’s Sleuth reveal theatrical depths that place them amongst the best plays of their times.

And to that list must surely be added Dial “M” for Murder.

Knott’s play is an uncomfortable fit in mid-century popular thriller theater. Yes, there’s a smart Scotland Yard Detective, a woman in danger, a husband planning a crime. The play starts with cocktails. Cigarettes are smoked. Everyone changes into evening wear. On the surface it could be any British drawing room murder play.

But Knott twists the genre. Is the detective breaking the law? What about the wife’s lover? Who’s the guy with any number of assumed names? Faced with infidelity and the loss of the woman you love, what man might not fantasize about revenge? And isn’t there something creepy in the way the men all view the play’s sole female as their property to save or destroy? If the lack of moral complexity is a highlight of commercial thrillers, Knott upsets our expectations by forcing us to watch flawed characters in desperate situations surrounded by a moral universe in disorder. This play could only have been written after WWII. It is distinctly modern in its mirroring of a society where all moral certainty has been blown away. There is as much Harold Pinter at play here as Agatha Christie—and the mysteries that perplex us go far deeper than crime.

I asked my company to view this as a classic to be explored, not just a simple entertainment. We ask you to enjoy the thrills of suspense, but to also question the motives and the passions at play. My designers and I have worked to force us all to be voyeurs, demanding that we question our perceptions, reactions and prejudices. We’ve tried to strip the play of pre-conceived notions so that we can experience it for the first time. A classic always deserves that treatment.

Enjoy. But be careful—it’s a dangerous world in here.

Preston Lane