
Jesse McQueen, Bonnie Anderson, Daniel Christian Jones & Jennifer McEwen in Clue | Photo by Tatum Lee
The film Clue, when I finally saw it, was a huge surprise for me. For years, I had assumed that a movie based on a board game was going to be, well, not my thing. Begrudgingly, I was sat down, shown it and, to my astonishment, had the best time. The script is clever, as cheeky as the film’s style, and it has an absolutely stacked cast of comedic legends! It’s great farce, and I do love me some farce. I love people running in and out of doors and tripping over furniture and each other and holding absurd props and mistaken identities and misconstrued situations and characters yelling outlandish things and falling down oof!
The theatrical adaptation of Clue (written by Sandy Rustin, with additional material by Hunter Foster and Eric Price, based on the screenplay by Jonathan Lynn) has essentially the same plot, characters and dialogue with some tweaks. It’s always tricky to stage something that requires the actors to fill such iconic shoes. Even more than the writing, it’s the specific performances from the likes of Tim Curry, Christopher Lloyd, Lesley Anne Warren and Madeline Kahn that I have such affection for. Wren Theatre’s production is a handsome, ambitious affair teeming with visually dynamic, inventive mise en scène and performances that are distinctive and endearing in their own right.
For those that know the film, Director Tatum Lee and her cast, from the outset, have the odds stacked against them. And this production did often fall flat for me, not because what anyone has brought to the table here is lacking in any significant way, but because I just found myself so often comparing it to the film. That’s not fair to the team, of course, to have such a burden, but my mind went where it did.
Let’s appreciate, though, what this creative ensemble is doing, because it’s cute, fun and, in a couple instances, does surpass the film.
Before we go there… if you don’t know the plot of Clue, it’s based on the Hasbro board game and sees a bunch of Washington elites gathered in a mansion late one night by mysterious request. Each of them is being blackmailed for some crime or indiscretion and they are now, as captives, forced to work together to sort out their present circumstances. Madcap antics and murder ensue!
As per the game, they are given pseudonyms and murder weapons that range from conventional to offbeat. The line-up here is as follows: Mrs. Scarlet (Jennifer McEwen) with a candlestick, Mr. Green (Daniel Christian Jones) with a lead pipe, Mrs. White (Jesse McQueen) with rope, Professor Plum (Jack Creaghan) with a gun, Mrs. Peacock (Bonnie Anderson) with a dagger and Colonel Mustard (Robert Notman) with a wrench. The host, Mr. Boddy (Liam Cardinell), rather quickly ends up an actual body, followed by the spooky Cook (Drea Burck). Thrown into the mix are Yvette (Lizzie Moffatt), the oh-so-French maid, Wadsworth (Jordan Imray), the oh-so-British butler, and, finally, Lucas Blakely as an Unexpected Cop who appears towards the end to complicate matters.
It’s all very silly of course. The plot relies on a series of secret identities, motivations and associations which are all revealed for maximum comic effect. The group scamper about haphazardly in pairs and as group as they hunt for the MacGuffin, “the evidence” against them.
Lee has a knack for using the Annex Theatre’s unconventional playing space—with its high staircases, thrust centre section and myriad entryways—to its full potential. Her production design is also well integrated into the space. The lush red walls and gold trim sell the cartoonish opulence and some subtle skulls in the floral prints are a sneaky little motivic touch. You can feel the artifice, of course, but this is all meant to be gloriously over-the-top.
One of my favourite moments relates to this meta-theatrical aesthetic. Early on, there is a dinner scene where these characters try to unpack each others’ deals. Lee has them all standing in front of a high, narrow unit. Crammed in together, they are a deliberately awkward spectacle that creates a genuine sense of tension and discomfort. This quirky choice actually makes this sequence much odder and funnier than the film. (See above.)
The cast—and the production as a whole—is most persuasive when they scramble about as a rambunctious unit. The energy frequently falters during lower-key moments. The vibes are campy and it’s very efficiently and stylishly blocked, but a certain manic intensity gets lost here, in rhythms that never quite reach the fever pitch this material requires. There are plenty of moments, though, that land well-enough.
Some highlights for me include Jones really selling some delightfully over-the-top clumsiness, his pathetic writhing underneath the dead Cook’s limp body amply justifies how long it lasts. The marathon “What really happened…” sequence that sees Wadsworth dashing about has some great moves and Imray finds a momentum quite distinct from Curry’s. Early on, McQueen delivers my absolute favourite entrance with her urgent, intensive stare and furtive head poke. (See below.)
I’ve come to expect a generic, too-bright comedy wash for such shenanigans, so I greatly appreciate Addie Moodie’s moody lighting design, which maintains a consistent, murky ambiance. There are also some lovely textural flourishes here and there. Michael Holland’s original music also does a fine job of setting an exhilarating, cartoonishly ominous tone. The chandelier crashing is a cleverly whimsical and guileless bit of stagecraft that amused me.
Overall, I think this might play best for those unfamiliar with the film… or, at least, those with a less obsessive fixation on its aesthetic and performances.

