The play takes a backward look at a story we know: or do we?

Amanda Whittington’s drama of Ruth Ellis, the last woman to be hanged in England for murder, suggests that not all was quite what it seemed.

Certainly Inspector Jack Gale thought so. In a marvellous dual role as narrator and policeman, Matthew Houghton built up a frightening tension, no mean feat when we know what happened.

Almost deadpan, he was, in turn, incredulous, sympathetic and helpless. Like Jack, we watch as Ruth, a taut, nervily perfect performance from Emmie Spencer, spirals through alcohol and obsession towards disaster.

For all her bravado, she is vulnerable, just like her glitzier colleague Vicki and more homely friend Doris.

It is a play about women in the nightclubs reaching for the stars, almost impossible in 1950’s Britain, but achieved by their heroine, Diana Fluck (Dors) and almost Madam Sylvia.

Director Pat Boxall’s inventive attention to tiny details created a mood set: low wattage lighting and a scratchy Billy Holliday shellac, tight Monroe dresses and seamed stockings: Ruth’s glasses, Sylvia’s prairie oyster. The play was relevant, moving and profound. A horror story come to life - and death.

FOUR STARS