As a casual fan of Alfred Hitchcock, especially when it comes to his horror and suspense stories, I had only heard of Rope before, yet never had the pleasure of watching it. Thus, this refreshed version, playwright Gordon Greenberg’s spin on the play that inspired Hitchcock’s original film, was a complete gamble. Only after catching the show did I go back to check out Hitchcock’s decidedly different attempt at the material, both of which were ultimately inspired by the famous case of male lovers Leopold and Loeb in 1924. The cast here was a major selling point, with three of the male leads having already done queer films and television in the past. Nothing could have prepared me for just how gay and sexy this new production of Rope would actually become. Tense and unpredictable, Rope throws a devilish dinner party with the backdrop of senseless murder—and a killer ensemble to boot.
Anxious twink Nate (Corey Fogelmanis, I Wish You All the Best) and his hunky manipulative boyfriend, Garrett (Cameron Monaghan, Shameless) are already onstage as our story begins, slumped on a couch off to the side. We will soon learn they have just committed a murder, as they spend the first several minutes prepping their apartment together for dinner guests. Rather than immediately booking it to Princeton or racing to cover up their transgression, the pair conceive a plot that almost boasts of being smarter than those they’ve invited. They appear to grossly overestimate always being the most clever people in the room. The setup provides little reason for any actors to already be onstage, but you’ll certainly never hear this reviewer complain about having two men in their underwear moving around furniture.
The dynamic between the duo is instantly compelling. As their dinner party begins, Nate devolves into a nervous nelly content to drown his anxieties in drink; Garrett, meanwhile, plays up his charming hosting abilities to a ridiculous degree. The two could not be more opposites if they tried. Perhaps this is part of why their relationship seems so functional, excluding the murder of passion they committed together. Both actors insert distinct personality traits that subtly show how each of them are affected by the crime. Fogelmanis does exceptionally well at portraying his character’s drunken tomfoolery, whilst Monaghan seems to revel in his schemes. In the passionate moments—which we mostly see in cleverly executed flashbacks lit only in spotlight—the two have incredible romantic chemistry that feels tangible. The intimate nature of these glimpses into private moments serve to flesh out a doomed, prickly romance.
Each of the six characters receive fun, fourth-wall-breaking monologues that provide glimpses into their worlds. This unique touch adds a dash of meta magic to the mix. With the interplay of six characters, it also translates to a show that will never be exactly the same twice. There’s Leila (Liz Gillies, Dynasty), the only female invited who’s as flirty as she is sarcastic; Judge Kentley (James Waterston, Dead Poets Society), an arbiter of morality and the father of the 21-year-old student they killed; Richard (Graham Phillips, Riverdale), an airhead classmate longing to find “the one”; and Rupert (Jason Butler Harner, Ozark), a war vet professor at their university who may or may not be harboring a secret of his own. The way these partygoers commingle is almost dangerous. A fun unpredictability about them once they invade the apartment space gives the narrative a jagged edge.
In Hitchcock’s movie, the homoeroticism is all subtext, with one reading being a potential metaphor for being stuck in the closet. In this new iteration of the play, subtext becomes true text, and embraces the queerness with open arms. This extends down to multiple characters, allowing for decadent sequences of queer love to play out. This was a delightful surprise, especially given the overt stuffiness of the time period. In allowing these characters to breathe within a realistic space, this feels like a more accurate version of the way gay people would actually behave historically. Perhaps even a speck of this queer joy would have made Hitchcock’s film all the better, but alas, the Hayes code would not allow any wiggle room. This stifling morality censorship started in the 30s, with queer coding being one of the only ways to hide character sexualities. Who would have known at the time that nearly 100 years later, we finally have the ability to embrace explicit themes that would have been previously viewed as taboo or downright forbidden.
As the plot thickens, the character interactions grow more tense, even more seductive. The flashbacks are not reserved for Nate and Garrett alone; each time they are utilized, it’s for a story-forward reason rather than any kind of gimmick. This allows a surprising amount of detail to be poured into a simple story. Agatha Christie herself would be proud of the murderous elements that have been baked into this iteration. Every role has also been perfectly cast. Gillies delivers the majority of the comedic relief, but the sharp barbs come in the form of dialogue from the professor and occasionally Garrett himself. Many are bursting with queer innuendo, and seeing the characters interact in this manner reminded me of The Boys in the Band in some ways. How sweet it feels that the cast is given free rein on their characterizations.
The scenic design by Derek McLane utilizes the full length of the space, including a comfy couch, a mini bar station where mostly Garrett prepares drinks for the others, a bustling fireplace, a grand piano, numerous pieces of art, and even a staggeringly large library in the foreground. But the centerpiece is the spot where the duo have hidden a secret: inside the chest that Garrett has decided to use as the dinner table. The excellent lighting design also is sure to bathe its characters in cinematic excellence. The light shining in from the outside makes for a striking appearance as it bleeds through the windows. The plumes of smoke from herbal cigarettes drench the entire church theatre in a foggy haze of mystery. The ferocious storm outside adds yet another element of atmosphere as it rattles with thunderous loudness. The storm is akin to the story being told, getting more outrageous as the secret becomes harder to keep.
The performance I attended included a talkback with select cast and director Scott Elliott. This was entertaining to watch, as they opened up the floor to questions from the audience. There were several fun tidbits learned from this intimate session that used the very furniture from the show itself to seat its roster. Elliott shared that the cast screened the original Hitchcock film on Halloween at the venue. Monaghan got into the motivations behind Garrett’s deceptions, and they even touched on the way the play subtly tackles wealth and social status. The most shocking revelation for me was how many different iterations of the Rope story there have been, including now multiple plays, an acclaimed film, and of course the disturbing true story. At the root of them all are similar takeaways about privilege and committing the “perfect murder.” A Q&A of this nature helped to add context to many facets of Rope while its grander themes were still swimming around in my head.
Nearly everything is different from the Hitchcock version, including the number of dinner guests, the beginning, and the Hollywood ending. Queer coding, though, absolutely still remained. The play contains a much darker, arguably more modern take than what was previously established. By the time it reaches its stunning endpoint, Rope has built up enough goodwill to land a potent conclusion. With each performer playing the hell out of their respective roles and an extra dose of queerness injected into its veins, Rope is a stunning character study and an Agatha Christie murder party rolled into one. With creative freedom to expand what existed before, the creative team and this magnificent ensemble have created something truly special. Call it a dangerous dinner event, a debaucherous night of mayhem, or just a sickeningly fun bit of theater–whatever you call it, Rope tightens its grip around the neck of audiences with a lively and altogether unforgettable energy.
Strangle the sensuality of Rope, now playing performances Off Broadway at The Theater at St Clement’s. For ticketing information, please head over to the official website.
