Christie Done It at The Cockpit Theatre, a review.

The Cockpit Theatre is a charming venue near Regent’s Park, about ten minutes from Marylebone train station. Its inconspicuous façade of blue and white is easy to walk past and would likely be missed if not for the sign sticking out of the wall and reading, in large black block lettering against a white background ‘The Cockpit’.

Despite the less-than-noteworthy outside, the inside offers a lobby unlike any other theatre I’ve been in. Sleek bar seating curves around the edges, while cute café tables and chairs are dotted about the main space, and in the corner a large, lime green, sectional sofa sits proudly. Along one of the shelves doubling as bar tables was a private library, slanting to the left. Donated by a couple whose names have unfortunately escaped me, the books were right up my alley: a copy of Lorna Doone from the 50s, a collection of poetry from the 30s, and many classics all published well before I was born. The library was a cute and interesting find, but not the reason I was there.

I’d never heard of The Cockpit until my brother, Josh Dorn, was recently cast in a show there. Christie Done It tells the true story of Timothy Evans’ wrongful conviction and execution over the death of his wife and baby at number 10 Rillington Place. The titular Christie later confessed to the murder of Beryl Evans – Timothy’s wife – but denied killing Geraldine, the baby. The musical tells the story in two parts, first Evans’ point of view, and then Christie’s, and leaves the audience to decide which of them was telling the truth.

With book and lyrics by Toby Ingram and Molly Rose Barton, the musical began with heavy exposition and an eclectic sound. The writing wasn’t bad, not by any means, and while the music was different it conveyed the emotion of the piece in a way that simple lyrics could never do. Both had a purpose and they served it well: get the audience to pay attention. Christie Done It “questions the truth in the mess of the lies”, and certainly makes the audience question it too.

As with every show, there are things to criticise. The pacing was a little off, the plot could have been more streamlined, and the songs had the Les Miserables tendency to tell you things that could have just as easily been said without the music. But all of that is nit-picky and doesn’t take away from the fact that, as a whole, the show was remarkable. Scenes such as Timothy’s forced confession and Beryl’s song about having her “whole life ahead of [her]” were particularly eye-opening. The show boasted a stellar cast, both individually and as an ensemble.

The first person on stage, the character who introduces us to the case, is Winnifred Lawson, portrayed by Sarah Kolb. The show is performed in-the-round and with a very, very minimal set – just two large black boxes – and Kolb uses the space expertly. With near-constant and precise movement, the sets and props that a larger production would have supplied are instead brought to life in the audience’s imagination through the sheer talent that Kolb exudes. And that is just the physical side of her performance – musically, she is incredible, delivering each lyric beautifully. Kolb’s voice is imbued with emotion from the get. Enthralling the audience with the case and capturing their attention despite the info-dump of a script, her voice carries across the space with purpose and strength. Kolb is definitely one to watch out for – a powerhouse in the making, perhaps already made.

Next to grace the stage is wrongfully-accused Timothy Evans, played by my own brother, Josh Dorn. He portrayed Timothy with nuance, having learned as much as possible about the man and the case beforehand, which was obvious every moment he was on stage. While the script kept his words simple – accurate to the real Timothy’s syntax – Dorn’s physical acting really sold the piece. There was a particular scene where Timothy is in prison, awaiting execution, as Winnifred sings more exposition around him. Dorn says nothing at all in this scene, and yet he tells us so much. Not looking up from his hands where he is picking at the skin around his nails and biting his thumb, the complexity of Timothy Evans – and by extension, the case – is shown in its full glory. There was a sort of nonchalant nature to the action, an easiness, as if he were bored or simply looking for a way to pass the time, but simultaneously it expressed nervousness, apprehension, something downright uncomfortable. The juxtaposition of the two emotions portrayed in one simple action encapsulated the message of the entire show: which version was the truth? Is it possible for both versions to hold some sense of truthfulness? Dorn clearly understood the show’s core and it was laced throughout every minute movement he made.

We were next introduced to Beryl Evans, Timothy’s wife, played by Lea Kurbjun. The case seemed, at first, to be the tragic yet all-too-common tale of a woman murdered by the man who was supposed to love her. Many films and TV shows, plays and musicals, even some songs, have framed such stories from the husband’s point of view; the wrongly convicted, the scorned lover, the man brought to his breaking point. In a way, Christie Done It did that too, telling the tale first from Evans’ point of view and then from the titular Christie’s. However, Kurbjun did not let that stop her from letting her voice – Beryl’s voice – be heard. Despite the unfortunate end for Beryl Evans, Kurbjun played her not as a woman simply destined to be a number on a serial killer’s Wikipedia page but rather as one who – truthfully, realistically, humanly – had layers. In a scene that takes us back to before Geraldine – the baby – was born, Kurbjun exudes joy and whimsy; exaltation at the idea of being a mother and playfulness in her love for Timothy. Then later she becomes a hardened version of herself, punching back when Timothy hits her and standing tall after he drags her to the ground. Kurbjun’s stand-out moments came when Beryl was stood up in the rafters, looking at the people below attempting to tell her story and chiming in from this place removed from the fray. The effect of this was not dissimilar to that of ‘Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?’ from the musical Hamilton, reminding the audience that, like Eliza Hamilton, Beryl had her own story, her own point of view, and it is just as important as the men’s.

The final cast member on stage, and the final cast member full-stop, was Andrew Truluck, playing the titular Christie. A notable thing about the show is that at no point did they make Christie someone whom the audience would like. They did not try to convince us that he was a charming or (dishonestly) kind man, and yet they still managed to have the characters believe he was – at least, in some versions of the truth. In one instance, Beryl accepts Christie in for a cup of tea, something that she would not have done if she did not like the man, and in another, Timothy slams a door in his face. Throughout it all, Truluck remained appropriately emotionless and in doing so provided all the emotion needed for the role. Every feeling Christie had, be it positive or negative, was subdued in a way that spoke to dishonesty. Truluck expertly portrayed a man used to lying, a man used to keeping secrets, to the point that even during his confession the audience was still wary. Christie was a man who killed at least eight people, his murderous confession should not be unbelievable, and yet Truluck’s character was so untrustworthy that the audience was still left scratching their head. Was Evans the real killer? What of baby Geraldine? Was Christie being honest when he denied her murder? The cherry on top of his remarkable performance was his voice work. Truluck gave Christie a deeply unsettling voice, pitched ever so slightly higher than his everyday voice and with a raspy eeriness to the tone; it chilled me to the bone the moment I heard it.

I would be remiss not to give a nod to the lighting designer, Ryan Day, who brought so much of the show to life with carefully selected spotlight moments. Similarly, costume coordinator, Christella Anastasiou, and designer Hei Tung Kwok (who was also responsible for the minimal set) dressed the actors in clothing reminiscent of the era and which only added to the characters; a bright red jumper for the determined Winnifred; an oversized suit jacket for Timothy’s small frame; a simple dress for Beryl that contrasted so brilliantly with her red hair; and Christie’s glasses, eerily similar to the real pair the serial killer wore. Samuel Mcleod, the sound designer, expanded on the set in his own way with door effects that helped shape the audience’s imagination and a radio broadcast that sounded as if it had been pulled directly from the archives. A special shoutout, as well, to directors Eureka Toki (stage) and Josh Lewis (music) without whom the show would surely not have been the stunning display it was.

Christie Done It was a production not without its flaws, but what show ever is? The dedication of the team behind it and the cast that brought it to life made it what it is: a show that told a gripping tale and delivered exactly what it said it would. I believe that it deserved more than the three shows it had, but I am sure this is not the last the world of theatre will hear of it.

You can keep up to date with the show via their Instagram.

With Love, C