Review: Ruth - The Musical (Wilton's Music Hall)

Review by Matthew Plampton

⭐️⭐️

Ruth Ellis's story has all the ingredients of a gripping musical: sex, class, domestic violence, obsession, and a hanging that divided a country. The last woman to be executed in Britain, her brief and brutal life reads like a dark opera begging to be staged. With Wilton's Music Hall providing an atmospheric backdrop filled with the kind of moody noir ambience this material demands, and a seasoned creative team with a proven track record, Ruth had every reason to be a devastating piece of musical theatre. But would this world premiere honour a story that still cuts deep in a society rife with misogyny, or buckle under the weight of its subject?

Unfortunately, the answer leans heavily towards the latter. The central issue with Ruth is one of identity; the piece doesn't seem to know what it wants its audience to feel. If the intention is to generate sympathy for Ruth, it misses the mark significantly. The terrible abuse she endured at the hands of her father and later her lover, David Blakely, is glossed over rather than confronted, reduced to narrative bullet points rather than moments of genuine dramatic power. Her tragic miscarriage, an event that should land like a gut punch, passes as little more than a fleeting moment. You never really get to see the true depth of trauma Ruth endured, and the result is a show that feels frustratingly safe when it should be anything but.

This lack of emotional commitment has a damaging knock-on effect on how Ruth herself comes across. She risks appearing less like a desperately damaged victim pushed beyond breaking point and more like a stereotypical depiction of a scorned woman seeking vengeance because her partner didn't call her back that fateful weekend. Even when Ruth discusses her desire to go out on her own terms in a life where she had so little control, it all feels strangely sanitised. A story this harrowing demands raw, unflinching honesty from its creators, and Ruth too often pulls its punches at precisely the moments it needs to land them hardest.

The score by John Cameron, Francis Rockliff and James Reader, while offering some pleasant moments, does little to elevate the material. The lyrics by Carolien Slocock and John Cameron feel pedestrian and repetitive, lacking the specificity and emotional precision that the best musical theatre writing demands. The refrain "All we have is here and now and that will have to be enough" is repeated several times throughout the show to little impact; a lyric that should carry weight but instead becomes wallpaper. At no point do the songs truly advance the story, the plot or the emotional stakes. The one notable exception comes in Ruth's final ballad, which is abruptly interrupted by her sudden drop to her death; a genuinely arresting theatrical moment that hints at the bolder, braver show Ruth could have been

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The production employs two actresses to portray adult Ruth: Bibi Simpson, depicting her in her prison cell as she recounts her life story to a man she does not yet know will be her hangman, and Hannah Traylen, embodying the Ruth of her tragic past. It is a clever structural device, and the performances from both are committed and engaging, but they are ultimately limited by the material they have been given. You sense there is far more these performers could deliver, along with the rest of the talented cast if the book and lyrics gave them the room to truly dig into the darkness and complexity of Ruth's psyche.

Similar issues plague the book by Caroline Slocock more broadly. The decision to have Ruth's father seek forgiveness from her in her final moments is a dramatic choice that should crackle with tension and moral complexity, but the same tendency to gloss over the abuse robs the scene of its potential power. If we haven't fully understood or felt the extent of what Ruth suffered, how can we possibly engage with the question of whether forgiveness is warranted or even conceivable? The book often fails to feel realistic; the arguments between Ruth and her lover David, escalate with such hyperbole that they feel artificial, lurching from calm to explosive in ways that strain credibility rather than building genuine dramatic tension.

The direction by Andy Morahan and Denise Silvey failed to truly bring poignancy to the trauma and tragic moments. Much like the book, it all felt incredibly safe, never daring to push into the raw, uncomfortable territory that Ruth Ellis's story demands. The blocking itself was competent, with actors moving purposefully through the space, but certain choices left much to be desired. Most baffling was the decision to leave the prison cell Ruth at the back of the stage, unlit and largely ignored for long stretches. This felt like a missed opportunity: she could have served as a haunting, looming presence throughout, a constant visual reminder of the fate awaiting her, watching her own life unspool before her. Instead, she faded into the shadows, robbing the production of an extra layer of dramatic tension.

The set and lighting design by Nicolai Hart-Hansen and David Howe harness the unique character of Wilton's Music Hall well, adding atmosphere and texture to the storytelling. The venue itself does much of the heavy lifting in establishing the shadowy, atmospheric world the production aspires to, and there are moments where the design elements bring a visual potency that the writing struggles to match. The striking Ruth logo that sits on the backdrop is a particular highlight, creating a dangerous tone that promises a boldness the musical never quite lives up to. Similarly, the powerful opening use of recorded news footage, evoking the trial by media Ruth endured, is a tantalising theme that is never developed or returned to, leaving yet another missed opportunity in a show full of them.

Ultimately, Ruth fails to create the high-stakes drama that Ruth Ellis's extraordinary and devastating life demands. A story of abuse, obsession, class prejudice and judicial killing should leave an audience shaken, but the musical's unwillingness to commit to the raw truth of its subject matter leaves proceedings feeling oddly muted. Without a clear dramatic intent or the courage to confront its darker themes head-on, a life and case that were anything but dull end up feeling, regrettably, somewhat exactly that. Ruth Ellis deserved better from the society that condemned her. She deserves better from her musical, too.

Ruth plays at Wilton’s Music Hall until 28th March. Tickets from https://allthatdazzles.londontheatredirect.com/musical/ruth-tickets

Photos by Charlie Flint