Review: Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear, Southwark Playhouse Borough

There’s nothing better than curling up with a mystery, whether it be a Sunday afternoon with David Suchet’s Poirot, or delving into the latest from Richard Osman. Sherlock Holmes, probably one of the most famous detectives in the world, has mainly reached me via Benedict Cumberbatch’s performance in Sherlock, or on the stage. I’m ashamed to say I’ve never read the books, an omission I plan to rectify. All of this preamble sets the scene for my attitude on heading to Southwark Playhouse Borough for Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. I was ready to put those little grey cells into action.

It’s an intriguing tale, split between Holmes and Watson investigating a murder in Sussex, and the actions of a secret society turned violent gang in the United States. Much of the first half is spent wondering what the connection between the two could be. Director Nick Lane, who adapted the play, makes the decision to keep switching between the action in Sussex and the drama in America, contrasting with the book in which the two scenes play out as separate halves. He explains this decision in the programme notes, suggesting we don’t want so long without Holmes and Watson! It’s a sensible dramatic choice, and keeps us on our toes, although it does take a little while to unfold initially.

As in the novel, Watson is our narrator and Joseph Derrington plays the role marvellously. He immediately has us on side, with his gentle humour and witty observations. He’s the perfect Watson. Yet, ingeniously, he also manages to switch between Watson and characters in the American part of the story. In fact, this is something all the cast achieve, seemingly with ease. There’s not a dodgy accent in sight. 

It must be a challenge to approach the role of Sherlock with originality but Bobby Bradley captures the familiarity of the role without cliché. He’s completely believable; there’s not a moment of doubt that he will get to the bottom of the case, until his nemesis Moriarty shows up. Another intriguing directorial choice by Lane is to introduce a meeting between the two that doesn’t occur in the novel. It’s a wonderfully chilling moment, although it removes the looming threat of a Moriarty you don’t meet. 

This is an ensemble without a weak link, with Blake Kubena, Gavin Molloy and Alice Osmanski seamlessly tackling the switch between accents, and adding drama and tension in scenes of violence which build during the second half. Robert Myles’ action design expertly has us on the edge of our seats as the violent gang reach their finale. 

The set is simple: William Morris wallpaper adorns the back wall, whilst just in front fragments of the luscious wallpaper mingle with planks of wood, serving wonderfully as the grand house in Sussex and lodgings in America. Scene changes are part of the performance, with props placed down emphatically to the beat of the music, whilst the cast sing or whistle along to a mix of 19th-century hymnals and original music by Tristan Parkes.

There seemed to be an exceptionally clumsy audience in tonight, so it has to be said that the cast were brilliant at keeping focus, and how Sherlock didn’t flinch when someone actually smashed a glass in the final moments is another mystery! 

Whilst the plot is exciting, the cast are impressive (forgiving a few minor script slip ups) and the setting is clever, this play is a bit of a slow-burn. The first hour drags a little, but the second half picks up and I leave the theatre satisfied. Or almost satisfied: after all Moriarty is still lurking. 

Written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Adapted and directed by Nick Lane
Produced by Adrian McDougall
Composer: Tristan Parkes
Set designer: Victoria Spearing
Costume designer: Naomi Gibbs
Lighting designer: Oliver Welsh
Action designer: Robert Myles
Produced by Blackeyed Theatre in association with South Hill Park Arts Centre

Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear plays at Southwark Playhouse Borough until Saturday 13 April.

Further information and booking can be found here.