The House on the Cliff - a play

I've mentioned previously that the local amateur dramatic society here, the long-established Bridgewater Players, occasionally perform entertaining whodunits at Thelwall Parish Hall, not far from where I live. Through one of their earlier shows, I got to know the playwright Derek Webb, and I recently attended their latest production, The House on the Cliff, by George Batson.

I was particularly intrigued by the title, given that Mortmain Hall, due to be published in April next year, involves - well, a house on a cliff. Suffice to say that the two storylines have nothing else in common - phew! The play concerns Ellen, a young heiress (daughter of a deceased lawyer) who is confined to a wheelchair, although her doctor believes there's nothing really wrong with her. She is looked after by her father's second wife and a housekeeper. When the doctor has to go to France, he calls in a nurse and a second doctor to look after her.

There is an odd aspect of the plot of the play which didn't seem to make sense in legal terms - it concerns the late lawyer's will. And I wasn't the only person to spot the anomaly. The explanation, I suspect, comes from the fact that the play was written by an American and originally set in the US, where the law is different. The action of the version I watched has been transposed to the UK, with the house relocated to a cliff in Kent, overlooking the English Channel. However, whoever amended the script (many years ago, I suspect) would have done better to correct the error - it could have been done quite easily.

I'd never heard of George Batson (1918-77), but Amnon Kabatchnik's invaluable Blood on the Stage reveals that he wrote nine plays, including one called Ramshackle Inn (1944) which enjoyed poor reviews but a good run. Kabatchnik reckons that The House on the Cliff is his most intriguing work, and I certainly enjoyed the performance by the Bridgewater Players. The challenging role of Ellen was particularly well-handled by Maria Marano, while Deborah Harper was a suitably equivocal stepmother and Cat Mercer a breezy nurse. Groups such as the Bridgewater Players deserve a good deal of support, and the first two nights of the three-night run were sold out. I managed to get tickets for the Saturday performance simply because it clashed with Strictly Come Dancing! I was glad I watched the play instead...

Forgotten Book - Murder on the Second Floor

Murder on the Second Floor is a book with an interesting history, as well as a very interesting author. It began life as a stage play, produced in London in 1929, written, directed by and starring the charismatic and talented Frank Vosper. When Broadway beckoned, a youthful Laurence Olivier took over in the central role of Hugh Bromilow. While travelling by sea to the US to play opposite him, as Sylvia Armitage, Phyllis Konstam met the tennis player Bunny Austin, whom she later married. Although now herself largely forgotten, she also appeared in four films directed by Hitchcock.

The play was subsequently filmed, in 1932, and the movie was re-made in 1941 under the title Shadows on the Stairs. Vosper turned the story into a novel, as well, so he got very good value out of his idea. Unfortunately, he died in 1937, in the mysterious circumstances which are discussed in some detail in The Golden Age of Murder. There is a good account of the play, and a summary of Vosper's career, in Amnon Kabatchnik's monumental Blood on the Stage.

But is it any good? The New York critics were not impressed by the Olivier version, and the play closed after a short run. For a while, reading the novelisation, I was unimpressed myself. But gradually I began to warm to the story, which really is as much a satire as a crime story. By the time I reached the end, I could see why Murder on the Second Floor did so well in different formats.

The story is set in Bloomsbury, aka Gloomsbury. The Armitages have a couple of mysterious boarders (or "lets") as well as the young author, Hugh. Hugh and young Sylvia fall for each other, but Sylvia isn't impressed with Hugh's writing - and this disapproval is a catalyst for the events that follow. It was, and remains, decent light entertainment. Incidentally, one tiny point: the intro to the novel version that I possess, published the year after Vosper died after falling (somehow) from a liner, manages to get the name of the ship wrong. I believe it was the SS Paris, not the SS Normandie.