MURDER, MAYHEM,
AND A MANUSCRIPT TO DIE FOR

Sometimes uncontrollable forces work in your favor. How fortunate then for MadKap productions that on the opening night of their production of Ira Levin’s Deathtrap, Chicago was plunged with little warning into its first winter storm of the season, with sub-zero temperatures, gale-force winds, and heavy snow. In other words, the perfect weather for you to be indoors, warm and dry, and snuggled up with a murder mystery. Had the tiny concession stand at the Skokie Theatre sold hot coffee or cocoa, I would never have left.

Michael Lomenick and Jeanne Swan

Once the feeling had returned to my extremities, I leaned back and took in Brian Wasserman’s set: a handsome room, a study by the looks of it. There’s an old-fashioned desk with a manual typewriter on it. Maybe a writer’s study. On one wall, are framed posters (“…window cards, not posters!”) of plays with lurid titles containing words like “murder” and “gun”. Mounted on the other walls are antique weapons. A writer of crime then. One thing is clear: this is a very masculine room; our writer is a man. But wait, in the midst of all this manliness, I spy a little basket of embroidery under a chair. A feminine aspect. A woman resides in this house as well. The plot thickens.

Aidan Sternberg and BEKA

In the late 1970s, Ira Levin took a break from banking his unending royalties from Hollywood to write a comic murder mystery for the stage. Since Dame Fortune had no intention of leaving his side anytime soon, Deathtrap, which opened on Broadway in 1978 turned out to be a smash hit with (most) critics and audiences, and 27 years later still holds the record for the longest-running thriller on Broadway. It was nominated for multiple Tony awards, adapted into a movie, and if that wasn’t enough, also netted him the Oscar equivalent for mystery and crime fiction, an Edgar award.

Michael Lomenick

Sidney Bruhl is a playwright who has had one smashing success and a series of failures since, each one more dire than the ones before—the blackouts between scenes feature amusing snippets from the reviews of his flops—and he badly needs a hit. Then one morning he receives a manuscript from Clifford Anderson, a student who attended one of his writing seminars. It’s a murder mystery called “Deathtrap” and as far as Sidney is concerned, it’s perfect. It will be a huge hit and make enormous amounts of money. If only he’d written it, all his problems would be solved. Ah, but there’s a note with the manuscript where Mr. Anderson apologizes for sending a carbon copy. You see the xerox place was out of commission so he couldn’t make any copies. Sidney facetiously (or not) speculates about how many people know of the existence of the play. Much to the increasing unease of his wife who can’t be sure whether he’s joking or not, he invites the young man to his home to “discuss” the play, asking him to bring the original copy with him.

BEKA

I’m going to stop there, because the fun of the show is in the plot twists and reversals. Levin clearly had a blast writing it. The characters are deliberately one-dimensional, the humor is bitchy, irreverent, and plentiful, and the actors are enjoying themselves so much—I’ve never watched a production where the actors weren’t having a blast—that you might not even notice how exquisitely nasty and spiteful the entire thing is. That’s not a criticism. If you’ve read any of Levin’s novels, nastiness is his stock-in-trade. The show works on two levels: as a straightforward thriller and as a send-up of thrillers. If you’re a fan of the genre, you’ll chuckle over the fact that Bruhl’s favorite movie is Angel Street. If you’re a theater geek you’ll snort over the suggestion that George S. Kaufman could have helped polish a murder mystery. Dial M for Murder gets mentioned multiple times. Ed McBain gets a shout-out in the name of the house next door, occupied by a Dutch psychic, Helga ten Dorp, who is played by BEKA, deploying an accent that’s less Dutch and more vaudeville German (with a soupçon of Natasha Fatale) and all the more hilarious for it. Why does this character even exist? You’ll find out at the end.

Beck Damron

Whether Deathtrap lives or dies on stage depends on the actor playing Sidney Bruhl and fortunately for this production, Michael Lomenick is more than equal to the task. The play doesn’t work if we can tell what Sidney is thinking and Lomenick’s sarcastic, condescending playwright is unreadable in the best possible way. Jeanne Dwan as Myra Bruhl is not required to do much more than wring her hands and look increasingly nervous but she acquits herself well. As the young playwright Clifford, Beck Damron is adequate; the most interesting thing about his casting is his extremely youthful appearance; given the places the narrative goes, it’s unsettling to say the least.

Deathtrap is a rare play in that it revels in how superficial and shallow it is. It’s not concerned with creating art or saying anything of substance. It’s the work of a writer who is showing off his skills, having a ball doing it, and crucially, inviting the audience to be part of the joke. So go on and laugh and be (mildly) scandalized by the goings-on. You’ll forget about it in a couple of days but you’ll be entertained while you’re there.

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photos by Laine Rogers

Deathtrap
MadKap Productions
Skokie Theatre, 7924 N. Lincoln Avenue in Skokie
Fri and Sat at 7:30; Sun at 2; Wed at 1:30 (Nov 19)
ends on November 23, 2025
for tickets ($38-$42), call 847.677.7761 or visit Skokie Theatre

for more shows, visit Theatre in Chicago

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