Lyndhurst Drama & Musical Society 
Vernon Theatre, Lyndhurst 
Darren Funnell 
17 October 2025
Lyndhurst Drama and Musical Society’s version of The 39 Steps by Patrick Barlow is a cheeky adaptation of Hitchcock’s 1935 thriller which turns high-stakes espionage into well-polished anarchy. Richard Hannay, a suave but spectacularly unlucky English gent, blessed with a “very attractive pencil moustache and nothing much else to do”, becomes entangled in a plot involving a mysterious woman, a murder, and something called, with great significance, ‘The 39 Steps’. It’s less “wrong man on the run” and more “wrong/right prop in the wrong/right place at the wrong/right time”.
What begins as a moody noir quickly unravels into organized chaos, as five (not four) actors conjure an entire world of secret agents, sinister Germans, jocular Scots and hapless policemen armed with a naked bulb set, inventive props, and some ingenious sight gags.
Director Brian Buck keeps the pace at a decent sprint, choreographing chaos with precision and a wink to music hall. Every door slam, eyebrow raise, and accidental entanglement feels perfectly timed, yet never over-rehearsed. The comedy feels alive, loose, and just on the edge of falling apart (in the best possible way). A lot of love has been shown here from an obviously very experienced hand.
The design (Di Buck and Rob Davis) leans happily into its own limitations yet still feels high gloss. Minimal props are imaginatively transformed. There’s a casual inventiveness to it all. An entire world built out of nothing but gaffer tape and gumption. I’d love to call out some favourites, but there is still one night to go, so no spoilers here.
For a show that cleverly repurposes whatever they have in the store cupboard, there is a LOT of heavy lifting on the Lighting and Sound (Andy & Deirdre Bennet), and they mix it up with deliberate sound miscues and perfectly timed cues to help drive the fun along. I also adored the costumes. If I was playing Pamela, I’d have raised my hands to the heavens in thanks!
The cast may not be able to do the London Marathon but, boy, do they have fun.
Vic Milne gives a dapper turn as Richard Hannay, all stiff collars, and perfectly measured bewilderment. He leads with a quintessentially British mix of charm and confusion, holding the madness together with a raised eyebrow and a moustache that deserves its own credit. I think he was rather fond of it.
Emma Davis shifts effortlessly between the sultry intrigue of Annabella and the sharp-witted exasperation of Pamela. She manages to combine movie-star glamour with impeccable comic timing, giving her characters both sparkle and substance. A fabulous performance.
Richard Barnett brings delicious menace to The Professor; his urbane charm laced with venom. As Mr McGarrigle, he switches gears entirely, delivering warmth and whimsy. His command of tone, and the stage, lifts the show throughout.
Hannah Rodgers is a comic force of nature as Mrs McGarrigle — all bustling energy, broad humour, and brilliantly expressive eyebrows. Her timing throughout is spot-on, and she radiates that joyful sense of play that defines the whole production.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the tableau for Gemma Wilks’ Memory Man is an unexpectedly poignant character that has a wonderful moment towards the end. Unexpected in that it should be the corny, fun reveal of The 39 Steps yet manages to be rather sad and – dare I say it – moving. I really liked what she did with this.
LDMS got this so right because the audience are completely in on the joke. By the time Hannay reaches the end of his adventure (or possibly just the end of his tether), the real mystery is how the cast manage to survive the evening without tripping over a prop or each other. It’s a glorious muddle of moustaches, melodrama, and mayhem. A celebration of theatre’s ability to do absolutely everything and nothing at once, it makes this reviewer love it all the more.
The play is on for one more night (Saturday 18 October) at the Vernon Theatre in Sandy Lane, Lyndhurst. If you are already going – lucky you. A few tickets are available, but (melodrama) “just a few”.
