A strong central performance cannot save this show from its lack of depth and structural weaknesses. Rating
Ok
RUTH is a brave attempt to retell the story of Ruth Ellis, the last woman in Britain to be hanged, by broadening the narrative to include the circumstances surrounding the killing. Through a contemporary lens shaped by the #MeToo movement, the show aims to introduce nuance and complexity to the story and restore some sympathy for its eponymous lead. However, there are endemic weaknesses in the show’s structure, lyrics and book, making it hard for it to realise its aims.
The first problem is that three different Ruths are cast. We have Cell Ruth (Bibi Simpson) who is on stage for almost the entire performance, narrating her story in the hours before her death to her own executioner, as well as Past Ruth (Hannah Traylen) who brings the action alive for the most part, apart from brief vignettes of Young Ruth (Mei-li Yap).
From a directorial point of view, this means that Cell Ruth is on stage throughout, effectively blocking use of stage right. With the added complication of Wilton’s two-tier staging, this reduces the rest of the considerable cast to filing on and off stage left in long, cumbersome lines.
This double casting is perplexing because the maximum time distance between Cell Ruth and Past Ruth is at most two years, and for most of the drama they are largely contemporaneous. It quickly becomes a clumsy device and does the show no favours at all. Traylen is a compelling stage presence, shining brightly and full of considered nuance. By comparison, Simpson’s incessant pouting, wig-fiddling and a tendency to address the audience rather than engage with those around her reduces her portrayal to mere caricature.
Elsewhere, Connor Payne turns in a visually convincing David Blakely with a beautiful baritone, even if his portrayal lacks the menace of a character known to be serially violent towards women.
However, this is largely an issue with the book and lyrics. With a standard mix of earnest ballads and portentous choruses, I’m curious why the writers felt that making this a musical would add to the drama. Lyric colour is lacking. When Ruth is rhymed with truth in the opening lines it does not inspire confidence. As a show hoping to highlight the voice of women facing repeated physical violence, there are two crucial moments when it seems we’re building up to a big main character number, only for comparatively minor male characters to step in and steal that spotlight moment. It’s hard to name these moments because unusually there is no list of musical numbers in the programme.
One highlight is “Hypocrite” during the second act courtroom scene. It roused the audience to some mid-show applause with good reason and left me considering if the courtroom might have been a much better framing device for the entire show. This would allow better use of the stage while giving voice to some of the nuance in Ruth’s story and allow the plot twist in the show’s coda the breathing space it is not currently afforded.
As it stands, the show somewhat limps to a halt, with everyone apparently getting the last word before an ill-judged attempt to shock. This is a final directorial and structural misstep that underlines the show’s flaws, despite largely impressive performances and staging.
There is enough here to admire and entertain, yet RUTH remains an uneven piece, never fully resolving the tension between its intentions and its execution.
Music by: John Cameron, Francis Rockliff & James Reader
Lyrics by: Caroline Slocock & John Cameron
Book by: Caroline Slocock
Directed by: Andy Morahan & Denise Silvey
Design by: Nicolai Hart-Hansen
Lighting Design by: David Howe
Sound Design by: Simon Slater
Choreographer and Intimacy Director: Rebecca Wield
Music arranged and supervised by: John Cameron
Musical Director: Dustin Conrad
Produced by: Denise Silvey, Caroline Slocock & Andy Morahan
RUTH plays at Wilton’s Music Hall until Saturday 28 March.
