I settle into my seat this evening in the comforting certainty that someone, before the interval, will be found very dead indeed. Midsomer Murders – The Killings at Badger’s Drift arrives on stage bringing a pedigree as venerable as a prize winning village fête sponge cake, and – much like that cake – there’s a danger it could collapse under its own weight. Hopefully it doesn’t. It promises to serve up a generous slice of nostalgia, mischief, and murder, with original star Daniel Casey (who played Detective Sergeant Troy to John Nettles’ Chief Inspector Barnaby) promoted to the helm as DCI Barnaby.
For the uninitiated (surely a rare species, but indulge me), Midsomer Murders first crept onto British television screens on 23rd March 1997, adapted from Caroline Graham’s novel The Killings at Badger’s Drift. I distinctly remember watching that first episode go out, and loving every single thing about it. The music, the locations, the cast list that formed a veritable who’s who of British acting royalty. It was instantly my favourite thing on TV. What began as a cosy crime curiosity became an unstoppable institution: nearly three decades of exquisitely scenic homicide, a couple of DCI Barnaby’s (stretching plausibility but working nonetheless), and a body count that suggests living in Midsomer County is statistically more dangerous than base-jumping, ensued. The series thrives on the tension between postcard prettiness and ruthless savagery, a formula that fans like me will be desperately hoping this stage version can replicate.
The curtain rises on Badger’s Drift, and I’m immediately tickled by how the production leans into theatricality rather than fighting it. We get flexible sets that fly in and out, suggestive rather than literal, and a brisk confidence that trusts the audience to fill in the hedgerows. The stage production was never going to be able to replicate the picturesque locations of the TV series but it certainly does a fabulous job of suggesting them. Matt Haskins’ lighting is quite simply masterful, and David Woodhead’s design and costumes are a joy to behold. The score by Max Pappenheim is sure to delight fellow fans of the series, the incidental music a particular success. The iconic and celebrated theme tune even receives a round of applause on its first entry!
Daniel Casey’s return to the franchise is one of the evening’s greatest pleasures. There’s an affectionate murmur of recognition when he first appears, and rightly so. Casey’s Barnaby is gentle but wily – exactly what he needs to be. His relationship to the world around him – especially the more eccentric villagers – is a masterclass in reaction acting. He listens, he blinks, and he silently asks the question we’re all thinking: Is this really happening? Casey is a consummate stage performer and lends the production all the gravitas it needs.
James Bradwell steps into Sergeant Troy’s shoes and is affable, eager and just the right amount of puzzled at the carnage unfurling around him. He has excellent chemistry with Casey’s Barnaby and delivers his lines with perfect incredulity. These two are the beating heart of the production and they are ably assisted by an impressive ensemble who each bring to life a plethora of villagers. John Dougall and Rupert Sadler deserve special mention for taking on the arch-eccentric Rainbirds, famously portrayed in the original series by Elizabeth Spriggs and Richard Cant. Tough acts to follow, Dougall and Sadler bring every last ounce of high camp to these portrayals and I ADORE them. A masterstroke of casting. There’s also a particularly joyous moment when Chandrika Chevli plays two characters in one scene with impressive gusto and without leaving her chair. It needs to be seen to be believed. I especially enjoy Julie Legrand’s Lucy Bellringer – driving along the suspicion and the storytelling at all the right moments.
The script rattles along with impressive pace, juggling multiple suspects, motives, and simmering resentments. What delights me most is its self-awareness. The play knows that Midsomer Murders is, at heart, gloriously ridiculous. It leans into that absurdity without tipping into parody. There are laughs – proper, knowing laughs – at the sheer pettiness of murder motives and the suspicious ubiquity of bloodshed, but the stakes remain real enough to keep me hooked. Kudos to Guy Unsworth who has done a beautiful job of adapting and directing this story for the stage. I really admire the way the piece captures the essence of the TV series without slavishly copying it. This is not television on stage; it’s theatre having a playful flirtation with television. The whole affair feels like a love letter written with a wink.
As the final revelations unfold, I find myself absurdly satisfied. One should not be so happy after so much murder. But justice is done, secrets are exposed, and Badger’s Drift can return to its gentle, lethal calm. I leave the theatre grinning from ear to ear, comforted in the knowledge that some traditions – village gossip, improbable murder rates, and Daniel Casey looking faintly exasperated – are well worth preserving.
