Istvan Dugalin ➤

Sepehr Reybod & Patrick Galligan in Sleuth | Photo by David Cooper

Is this Shaw Festival production of Sleuth Peter Fernandes’ proper directorial debut? Astonishing. He’s knocked it right out of the park! His deft handling of Anthony Shaffer’s tense and hilarious two-hander—which both skewers and celebrates the British tradition of mystery stories—is robust and affectionate. His staging, with its assertive mastery of aesthetics, pacing and tone, had me in a playfully firm grip for every damn second of its two-hour runtime.

Harnessing Shaffer’s witty dialogue with superb dexterity, Patrick Galligan and Sepher Reybod conjure a wholly persuasive portrait of masculine ego, rapport and rivalry. In this luxurious drawing room of a British country manor, their chemistry is a thickening agent for the atmosphere, giving it an almost palpable texture. From the moment Milo Tindle (Reybod), a working class, Jewish-Italian immigrant, enters this space, the home of Andrew Wakefield (Galligan), a wealthy and successful crime fiction author, the ebb and flow of power begins, and tension steadily mounts.

Shaffer’s play is, ultimately, a dark comedy of manners. (Another fine British tradition!) Early on, when Wakefield quite nonchalantly blurts out “I understand you want to marry my wife,” the offhandedness is very droll, so is Tindle’s oh-so-British “With your permission of course,” but our hackles are raised. This all seems too genteel for the circumstances, putting us on guard. Is he really so blasé about losing his wife? So encouraging of this other man? The first act becomes a steadily increasing whirlwind as Wakefield proposes a scheme to help Tindle obtain the sort of financial resources required to satisfy this unseen wife’s expensive tastes. Solidarity and mutual benefit? Or malevolent ruse?

Laying out the plan, his mania intensifies to a near religious fervour as the devised scenario ignites his passion for a good crime plot. The more reserved Tindle is wary and baffled by Wakefield’s perverse enthusiasm, but eventually gives in to his intoxicating energy. By the end of the first act, he’s in a clown suit with clothes, furniture and knick-knacks strewn about the stage. Just as the absurd strategy, buddy vibes and outrageous mess are at their peak, the first cruel twist lands with a bang and a thud.

From there, a series of trope-y switcheroos keep us on our toes regarding the power dynamics at play. There is a hearty whiff of bromance in Tindle and Wakefield’s parley, an endearing camaraderie that bonds them in their love of a good game and its waggish, noble competition. There is also authentic humanity here that gives this giddy scenario real gravitas. Class tensions fester in Wakefield’s condescension, his ethnic slur, and Tindle’s discomfiting persistence to be a good sport about it. He has his limits though, and once they’ve been breached, Reybod lets us glimpse the very real hurt Tindle has endured. It is both eerie and exhilarating to witness his own cruel potential rise to the surface.

There is an especially evocative bit of dialogue in which Tindle, not merely willing to accept Wakefield’s “game, set, match,” expresses the devastating, and ultimately deranging, psychological impact of Wakefield’s tactics. And there will be a reckoning. It is deeply satisfying, for Tindle and us, to watch this smug snob squirm in panic. Galligan allows him to be suitably pathetic without reducing him to caricature. Even in a wretched state, he has a certain poise.

Sim Suzer’s set has a gorgeous, rather understated stuffiness. Much like the performances, the environment has distinct yet understated theatrical artifice—a gentle nudge, not camp. John Gzowski’s original score is elegantly integrated into the action and stylishly heightens the tension at key moments. Everything about the execution here is charming and refined without, y’know… insisting upon itself.

There are some skillfully achieved bits of stage magic. Gunshots popping the heads off mantlepiece figurines—that’s pretty cool. My distance from the stage was likely a significant factor here, but there is a crucial effect, on which a big reveal relies, that was admirably achieved. The verisimilitude may depend on your position in the theatre and the quality of your attention, but I imagine it could be, if not fully convincing, still an effective misdirect for those who don’t know the play. Newbies to Sleuth will likely accept the strained creakiness of the Inspector Doppler persona as quaint eccentricity. (And I sort of envy their ignorance. What a treat that will be for them!)

What a treat this is—period! A beautiful rendering of a tightly structured, richly textured classic. And an absolute joy to behold.

Sleuth
April 2 to October 9, 2026
Court House Theatre
(26 Queen Street, Niagara-on-the-Lake)
2 hours (plus an intermission)

Patrick Galligan & Sepehr Reybod in Sleuth | Photo by David Cooper