Anthony Shaffer’s meta-thriller has left an indelible mark thanks to the 1972 film, featuring a grand guignol performance by Laurence Olivier as Andrew Wyke, a self-regarding author of upper-crust detective fiction, and Michael Caine as the chippy young hairdresser who makes off with his wife.
By today’s standards, however, Shaffer’s plot twists in a distinctly arthritic fashion, while its outlook on class, women and foreigners is increasingly harder to justify. The 2007 remake might have been a candidate for the most unnecessary movie ever made. And one of Shaffer’s poison-tipped lines – “A jumped-up pantry boy who doesn’t know his place” – is perhaps now more familiar from the Smiths song This Charming Man, although it sounds more stylish, laced with appropriate irony, coming from the mouth of Morrissey than a crabby old character who thinks and speaks in this manner for the better part of two-and-a-half hours.
It is difficult to ascertain if the overripe melodrama of Giles Croft’s production is intended as parody, but there are still tooth marks in the scenery from when the production was first presented in Nottingham. Miles Richardson’s Wyke lives in a garish funhouse with a creepy automaton who shakes with mirth at his effortful humour. James Alexandrou plays the unfortunate foil. Though it’s billed as “the ultimate game of cat-and-mouse”, Sleuth is more reminiscent of an old mog prodding listlessly at an outmoded toy before settling down for a comfortable snooze.
•At West Yorkshire Playhouse, Leeds, until 15 October. Box office: 0113-213 7700.
