Whodunit? used to be a perfectly respectable question. Nowadays, much of the fascination comes not so much from a twist in plot as from a twist in form. Two new and respectable representatives of the genre are puzzling Broadway audiences whose friends are polite enough not to tell them what happens. Sleuth is a murder mystery, more or less traditional, though disguised as hip Agatha Christie, and Conduct Unbecoming (Closed February 15) is a trial-cum-fiendish-wrongdoing melodrama that just wins a horse race with boredom.
When I first saw Sleuth in London six months ago, I was the innocent going to see one of the most successful “gimmick” detective shows in years. And, indeed, the success of Sleuth depends on the willingness of members of the audience not to reveal the crucial structural secret of the show to their friends who haven’t seen the play. It’s not so much a matter of avoiding saying who the murderer is as not revealing the playwright’s technical bravura in construction. Suffice it to say that Anthony Shaffer has given us a play that does what can be done only once.
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