This is not your usual police procedural. No doubt the story of the capture of the man known as “The Yorkshire Ripper” will attract people who enjoy a good detective story, and one of the beautiful things about theatre is being able to use devices which simply don’t work on television. Added to that, this story is very much more than a whodunit, seen through the eyes of the main character: Meg Winterburn, sometimes in conversation with a colleague, who may or may not be invocations of her memory.
The play draws you in immediately. There is nobody looking at their watches and you can hear a pin drop in the theatre. The recreation of the 1970s incident room in a police station is so absolute it’s as if we’ve travelled in time and are really there. This is helped by the punctuation of television snippets on either side of the stage, giving you crucial pieces of timely information; but it’s also the direction by Richard Lindfield which is superb, and also due to the complete and total commitment of the people you’re watching. They are suddenly no longer actors, and they are not characters being played. They are real people, you become so invested in supporting some and being disgusted at others that you forget to realise what incredible performances they are giving until the play is over.
It’s a brilliantly clever piece of writing by Olivia Hurst and David Byrne, acknowledging from the beginning that we know the answer to the question of who the killer was; and that the play hinges on the reflections of Meg Winterburn as part of that team. Very quickly becoming the only one in uniform: a visible stark contrast to all the other men who keep getting promoted ahead of her, and displaying that perfect 70s resignation of ‘that’s just the way it is’, because there was nothing at the time that could challenge it. The sexism pulses through everything, becoming a heartbeat that only the few would notice, even when the Inspector says “you’re all my men”, meant to be a compliment, to include Meg. Straight away you’re aware of the disgusting imprint of it on the investigation, when Inspector George Oldfield comes in and announces that the Ripper has made a mistake, he’s killed someone who isn’t a prostitute: “He’s killed an innocent woman.”
While Meg’s intelligence is overlooked, she makes some acute and astute observations about the investigation. She also wants to re-write some events in reflection, which she eventually has to come back to earth about; and the real scene which starts identically is then played out. The attention to the identical detail of the scene that restarts is astonishing: as if it’s been rewound; which is incredibly difficult to do accurately on stage. Angelina Sangster plays Meg with such gentle self assurance, such awareness of the world she’s in; her added details of the subtle looks and occasional eyeroll she gives some of her oblivious male counterparts are a delight. She embodies Meg beautifully: we feel her downplayed frustration and towing the line from lack of any other choice.
All of the actors are so believable in their roles, you become immersed in their world, intrigued and dismayed and horrified as the investigation unfolds. The obsession that the Inspector has with the voice message that turns out to be fake, excluding suspects because they didn’t sound like the tape; and comparing handwriting to letters which also turn out to be fake. The fact that they interviewed the killer nine times, and yet he was caught in the end completely by accident. The play gives you no uncertainty in believing the competing egos and competing incompetence of each office; and if this is truly accurate, it’s a wonder they ever caught anybody for any crime. In fact it’s so easy to detest and loathe George Oldfield that it’s only after the play is over that you realise what a terrific job Mark Lester has done in playing him so compellingly. Another standout is the beautifully emotional performance of Emma Sayers as Maureen Long: a survivor of an attack. The fragility she shows even in anger is so gripping, the way she conveys so many emotional states of this emotionally scarred woman without tipping over into too much is spell-binding.
The unusual thing about this play and about this whole true story is the focus on ordinary people. The police in the incident room are just ordinary people, the men competing with each other, the regions competing with each other; and the failure was a systemic one, where too much focus had been given to clues which turned out to be entirely false. And as Meg says: “if he was a monster we’d have caught him by now”: they had demonised him so much that they couldn’t even recognise him when they caught him, because he was just ordinary. Plus, all the victims were “innocent”, not just the ones who lived “decent” lives, and nobody has it “coming to them”. As the incredibly moving yet not even slightly sentimental ending shows us: these were ordinary women, just living their lives. A powerful, important piece of theatre, beautifully done in every single aspect, packing a thought provoking punch.
New Venture Theatre, 18 February 2025
The Incident Room runs until Saturday 22 February 2025
Photos credit: Julian Beresford
