Terrible title, terrific show. Murder She Didn’t Write might sound like a tortured pun that never should have made it out of the brainstorm, but the production itself is a sparkling gem of quick-witted, high-energy improv.
The concept is deliciously simple: before the show even begins, the audience chooses three elements — the victim, the murderer, and the murder weapon. From there, the cast conjures a fully formed murder mystery in the style of a classic whodunit, complete with a flamboyant detective who unravels the case in real time.
On the show I saw, the setting became a disco wedding, with the murder weapon — an egg with a green yolk. It’s absurd, of course, but the actors pulled it off with such commitment that the ridiculous quickly became riveting. The joy here is in the tightrope walk: every twist, alibi, and red herring is invented on the spot, yet the ensemble’s chemistry makes it feel like a meticulously rehearsed play that just happens to be wildly, gleefully unpredictable.
The sleuth — equal parts Poirot, Columbo, and mildly confused substitute teacher — guides the action with knowing winks and theatrical flair, before pulling off a climactic reveal that somehow, against all odds, ties the chaos together.
The title may be groan-worthy, but the show itself is a clever, inventive, and relentlessly funny masterclass in improvised theatre.
After the Fringe Festival this show is touring across the UK.
Reviewer - Kathryn Gorton
on 14th August 2025
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