THEATER REVIEW : ‘Murder’ Very Nearly Comes to Life

In the murder mystery genre’s perpetual race to out-clever the other guy, playwrights Duncan Greenwood and Robert King try to set some kind of new record with “Murder by the Book.” Their plot isn’t a whodunit, or even a whydunit, but a who-will-do-it-and-when.

If that sounds contorted, it’s nothing next to the second-act twists and turns, which would break the back of the most limber sleuth. That’s too bad, because for a good stretch of director Roxanne Barker’s production at Sierra Madre Playhouse, this “Murder” is more lilting than sinister.

This play is so eager to please that when murder really does occur, the sting is lost.

We have the by-now standard situation: Best-selling mystery novelist (Anthony Duke playing Selwyn Piper) considers himself a perfect plotmeister, is blessed by a sweet assistant (Elizabeth Finn’s Christine), but is hounded by an actress spouse who wants a divorce and fat alimony checks (Jean Evans as Imogen Piper). Short of that, Imogen will kill Selwyn and frame the nearest innocent--Christine.

We can guess pretty early that it’s going to require every ounce of Selwyn’s plotting skills to weasel out of this one. Later on, in fact, Selwyn nearly persuades us that he is some genius when he suggests that the drama’s innumerable plots and counterplots have been merely his trying out a plot for his new book. By then, though, “Murder” is in a narrative welter of its own making.

Imogen is as full of herself as her husband, but she’s no match for him. Christine’s friend, Peter (Daemeon Pratt), may be. He masters disguises, can untangle conspiracies at long distances and exudes refreshing selflessness, all at the same time. This is a man worth rooting for.

Unfortunately, Greenwood and King violate a genre convention and render Peter helpless in the face of Selwyn’s limitless mendacity. That’s fine for an artful black comedy but not for boilerplate stuff like this, which should give audiences what they want. Seeing Peter exit with his tail between his legs is not what we want.

Selwyn and Peter’s clash of minds--which Duke and Pratt both relish--also gets considerably muddied by lesser characters and performances. Evans only sketches out the potential for evil comedy in Imogen, and Don Savage, as Selwyn’s publisher, can’t get out from under a dreadful pseudo-accent.

Though Finn has less to do than we’d like, she makes a winning, sharp partner to Pratt: Their exchanges have all the light, rhythmic pop of a Howard Hawks comedy. The play never finds its tone, but this cast admirably tries to make things sound clever. In a genre wheezing into the ‘90s, that’s something.

“Murder by the Book,” Sierra Madre Playhouse, 87 W. Sierra Madre Blvd., Sierra Madre. Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2:30 p.m. Ends Oct. 1. Tickets: $5-$8.50. (818) 355-4318. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.