Midsomer Murders

Alexandra Theatre Birmingham

Three stars

“Tension, suspense and pastoral calm”

The Killings at Badger’s Drift, written by crime writer Caroline Graham, first appeared in 1987 and later secured a place on the Crime Writers’ Association’s Top 100 Crime Novels of All Time. But its reach expanded even further when it was adapted as the pilot episode of Midsomer Murders, introducing audiences to the soon-to-be beloved detective duo of DCI Tom Barnaby and DS Gavin Troy.

Set in the picturesque – but very deadly – county of Midsomer, the episode helped launch one of Britain’s longest-running detective dramas, now spanning more than twenty-five series and exported to over 200 countries.

Writer-director Guy Unsworth brings both the novel and its television legacy to the stage by leaning into the tension at the heart of the story: the postcard charm of the English countryside set against the sinister motives bubbling beneath it.

David Woodhead’s set and costume design captures that contrast. A leafy village, stone cottages and quaint signposts conjure rural England inside Birmingham’s Alex Theatre, while wigs and costume shifts during the crime’s eventual reveal reinforce the production’s central idea that in Midsomer, appearances are rarely what they seem.

Unlike many recent screen-to-stage adaptations, composer Max Pappenheim incorporates the original Midsomer Murders theme, using it to frame a surreal, macabre dance showing Barnaby’s troubled thoughts manifesting as he wrestles with the unsolved case. Ella Wahlström’s sound design layers birdsong and pastoral calm with tension and suspense, again pushing the tranquillity alongside the murderous impulses simmering beneath it.

Katie Balmforth’s props, working alongside Woodhead’s design, lean heavily into one of England’s most recognisable habits – tea drinking. Few scenes pass without a cup or saucer in hand – a visual shorthand for the polite civility that so often masks the violence in Midsomer’s villages.

Stylistically, the production finds its voice more confidently in the second half. Comedy begins to knit the story together, with self-aware nods signalling to the audience that laughter is welcomed. As the script embraces its heightened melodrama, the production settles into a tone that feels more assured.

“This might be a village of tea-drinkers, but there’s blood beneath the begonias.”

The use of multi-rolling offers something the television series and novel cannot, allowing the stage adaptation to play with theatricality. Yet some of the devices feel dated or overused, and there is a sense that the full power of live theatre could have been harnessed more boldly to elevate the story and style, and to give the audience a more active experience in the protagonist’s shoes.

If you are a Midsomer Murders fan, this is for you, with knowing laughs written into the script for those familiar with the show’s tropes. For anyone less devoted, however, the result can feel somewhat uneven – a production that struggles to balance affectionate homage with compelling drama.

By Jonathan Lauren