Rivals in a deadly game of gat-and-mouse

Scripps Ranch Theatre’s production of Sleuth is gripping from start to finish — just what murder-mystery theater should be.

Set in the English country home of successful detective fiction writer Andrew Wycke, the two-act play is peppered with engaging plot twists and playful banter between dueling protagonists who attempt to outwit each other in a deadly game of gat-and-mouse.

The men superficially foil each other in every way. Wycke (Tim West), an aging snob with a taste for expensive liquor and material trifles, embodies all of the pretensions of his English pedigree. Milo Trindle (Tom Steward) is the son of working class, Jewish-Italian immigrants. He relies on hard work, good looks, and a bit of guile to climb the social ladder.

When Wycke’s wife takes the much younger Milo as her lover, the novelist can’t help but blur the lines between fiction and reality. He baits Milo into a world of intrigue the elder is sure he can control, if only to teach the young libertine a lesson. The riddle Wycke (and the audience) must solve: is Milo an easy mark, or will prejudice and disdain cause Wycke to underestimate a worthy opponent?

The physical interaction between Wycke and Milo invigorates an otherwise linguistically dense script. Fair warning: thick regional British brogues are used, though it’s not difficult to understand what’s happening onstage, thanks to strategic blocking and animated actors.

There was only one instance where the energy fell flat — namely when Milo finds himself in a mortal fix late in the first act. Perhaps it was opening night jitters, or perhaps a hint into the character’s sense of cool, but the lack of urgency that dominated a fight-or-flight moment didn’t quite sell.

West and Steward play off of each other, and their environment, quite well. They use every bit of the stage, and every action sequence — from struggles to pratfalls — they execute meticulously. They deliver dialogue naturally, adding believability to the performances. West’s task of bringing a pompous wordsmith to life was surely no small task, and he delivers a thoroughly enjoyable — and intelligible — performance.

The set is impressive. Not only does the single design of Wycke’s parlor serve as a functional backdrop, it’s also a window to the character: ornate and cultured — a veneer of garish ornamentation. Adding a trick to the parlor, an automated mannequin sits in a basket, ready to laugh at the literal push of a button — which Wycke pushes often as a self-serving soundtrack for his own jokes. Between the dummy in the room and the imaginary characters in his books, Wycke relishes the only company that matters: the lifeless.

The set isn’t the only hint in solving the central puzzle of Sleuth. Read the program carefully and you may find a hidden clue or two. Or, maybe you won’t. Something may be missing… and that’s just part of the fun.