When the curtain rises at Everyman Theatre, we see a room whose walls display swords and daggers and guns and knives, a crossbow, a mace -- murder weapons of all styles and shapes. These may not look like holiday gifts. But Everyman artistic director Vincent M. Lancisi takes pride in calling “Deathtrap” his “holiday thriller.”
And no mistake about it, this production – which Lancisi directed -- excels at the ways and means of murder. Credit for the impressive armaments collection goes to fight choreographer and weapons maker Lewis Shaw, set designer Timothy R. Mackabee and props master Jillian Mathews.
The weapons are so central to Ira Levin’s 1978 play, they’re practically characters themselves. The collection belongs to a fictitious playwright named Sidney Bruhl. Some of the weapons are props from his plays. In his opening speech, Bruhl -- portrayed by an appropriately world-weary Bruce Randolph Nelson -- describes a promising new play to his wife, portrayed by Beth Hylton.
But as it turns out, Bruhl isn’t describing his latest play. Bruhl’s got writer’s block; he hasn’t had a hit in nearly two decades. What he’s describing is a manuscript sent to him by a student he barely remembers.
The rest of “Deathtrap” is about how far Bruhl would go to have a hit. Would he lure the student to his home? Would he offer to collaborate – and take top billing? Oh, let’s face it, the real question is: Would he kill for a hit? That idea alone would make a decent thriller. At least that’s what’s suggested by the student, played by Danny Gavigan as part sycophant, part schemer.
A play about writing a play – indeed writing the play that this play is about – is a pretty neat idea. And the script is filled with jokes about the theater. Bruhl quips: “I may be devious and underhanded enough to be a successful murderer, but not, I think, a Broadway producer.”
There’s a big scary moment in Act One, to which Beth Hylton reacts with some first-rate screaming. But Levin’s play is not without letdowns. He essentially repeats his big scary moment in Act Two, and it’s hardly as scary the second time around. The play also has a largely extraneous coda.
Even so, Lancisi’s direction keeps the laughs and, for the most part, the tension coming. With the aid of sound designer Stowe Nelson, he uses little musical punctuation marks to enhance moments of foreboding – a few tinkling notes, a chord, a plucked string, or, when the fear factor’s especially high, underscoring.
Then there’s Lewis Shaw’s top-notch fight choreography. Not only do the moves look truly violent, but when a character is being choked, I could swear his face actually turns chalk white.
All of the actors have the timing down pat – in the case of Bruce Nelson, both comic timing and turn-on-a-dime malevolence. Levin includes the character of a Dutch psychic largely for comic relief. Deborah Hazlett’s serious approach makes her all the funnier.
“Deathtrap” includes nods to plays ranging from “Dial M for Murder” to Noel Coward’s “Blithe Spirit” (which Everyman is producing at the end of the season). But Levin’s script can’t be counted on to lay ’em in the aisles with laughter or terror. Still, Everyman delivers a polished production, and if you’ve OD’d on sugarplums or Christmas ghosts, a little deadly diversion might be just the thing.
“Deathtrap” continues at Everyman Theatre through January 11.
