The Hound of the Baskervilles Review: Boutique Sherlock Gets Laughs But Fails to Solve the Real Mystery
At the New Vic in Newcastle-under-Lyme, a four-person capsule telling of Arthur Conan Doyle's classic thriller, The Hound of the Baskervilles, brings vigour and charm but ultimately leaves audiences puzzled over its purpose. This revival, directed by Joyce Branagh and originally staged by Peepolykus in 2007, struggles to justify its existence beyond surface-level humour.
A Tiresome Adaptation with Shaky Foundations
To grasp how tiresome this Sherlock Holmes adaptation proves, one need only consider its ambitious premise. With just four actors—Alyce Liburd, Jerone Marsh-Reid, Alex Phelps, and Tom Richardson—the production attempts to portray the famous detective, his sidekick John Watson, various Baskerville family members, servants, neighbours, yokels, and settings ranging from 221B Baker Street to windswept moorland and a country estate. The impossibility of this task comes at the expense of theatrical integrity, manifesting in shaky props, hasty costume changes, and an over-stretched stage manager.
Laughing at the medium itself is an old theatrical idea, but here it feels vacuous. Unlike Victoria Wood's Acorn Antiques, which satirised daytime TV soaps with clear intent, or the National Theatre of Brent's two-man epics like Wagner's Ring Cycle, where crazy ambition was inherently funny, this rehash lacks a discernible target or reason for being.
Faithful Yet Superficial Storytelling
Despite its flaws, the production remains faithful to the outline of Conan Doyle's original tale. Set on an isolated Dartmoor, where a reputedly ravenous beast and an escaped convict roam, Holmes and Watson piece together clues as intended. However, strip away the gurning, mugging, and accents, and what remains is a fair account of the story devoid of its essential mystery, jeopardy, and revelation.
The cast members bring energy and charm to their roles, but their sole aim seems to be milking the material for laughs. This results in theatre for theatre's sake—a concept that might work as a 10-minute sketch but becomes wearisome over a two-and-a-half-hour night out. The lack of necessity in this adaptation makes it feel like an exercise in futility, despite the audience's apparent enjoyment.
Audience Appeal Without Artistic Merit
That there is a market for such productions is undeniable; audiences at the New Vic lap it up as if witnessing the material invented afresh. Yet, it would take a Sherlock-grade sleuth to figure out why this particular adaptation resonates. Perhaps it is the sheer novelty of seeing a classic thriller condensed into a boutique format, or maybe it is the cast's undeniable vigour that carries the show.
Ultimately, The Hound of the Baskervilles at the New Vic, running until 14 March, offers fleeting entertainment but fails to solve the real mystery: what is the point of this exercise? For theatregoers seeking depth and purpose, this production may leave them feeling more lost than enlightened on the moors of Dartmoor.
