Review: Single White Female (Richmond Theatre/UK Tour)

Review by Matthew Plampton

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

There are certain films that live on despite their mixed critical reception, and the 1992 psychological thriller Single White Female is undeniably one of them. It may not have troubled the Oscars, but it became a cult hit, giving us one of cinema's most iconic stiletto moments. Now, over three decades later, Rebecca Reid's stage adaptation arrives at Richmond Theatre as part of a UK tour, starring Kym Marsh as the obsessive Hedy and Lisa Faulkner as the manipulated Allie. But does this reimagining deliver the thrilling melodrama of this cult classic?

The answer is a flamboyant yes. This production is stuffed full of self-aware camp melodrama, and it is all the better for it. Reviews of the original film can be summarised as a storyline that wavers between thrillingly tense and utterly ridiculous, and this holds true with Reid’s adaptation, which is certainly not to its detriment. Reid transplants the story from its nineties New York backdrop to present-day England, weaving in social media, Ozempic, and modern anxieties, whilst introducing new characters, including Allie’s teenage daughter, Bella. Reid's updated story centres on Allie, a newly single mother juggling the demands of parenthood and a fledgling tech business, who advertises for a lodger and finds herself welcoming the apparently charming Hedy into her home. What begins as an arrangement of convenience swiftly unravels into something far more unsettling, as Hedy's façade of warmth gives way to obsession, manipulation, and outright psychosis.

Marsh is tremendous fun as Hedy, playing an unhinged manipulator who quickly distorts the lives of everyone around her. Driven by a desperate need for a family she never had, she descends from calculated allure into full-blown psychosis, and Marsh navigates this trajectory with a compelling mix of seductiveness and unhinged menace. There is a particularly effective moment late in the first half where Hedy lays bare an edited version of her backstory, and Marsh lends it just enough sincerity to wrong-foot the audience before gleefully embracing the full theatricality of what follows. Faulkner, meanwhile, brings warmth and sincerity to Allie, a woman used by seemingly everyone in her life, far too forgiving and far too easily played. Where a more cynical production might have exposed this passivity as a weakness in the writing, the melodramatic register allows it to become part of the fun; you find yourself willing her to see what is plainly obvious, even as you know she will not. Together, the two leads toe the line between melodrama and spoof with impressive skill, committing fully to the heightened tone without ever tipping into outright parody.

The supporting cast acquit themselves well within the production's broad strokes. Amy Snudden is convincing as Bella, Allie's teenage daughter, and her susceptibility to Hedy's manipulations provides the production with some of its more genuinely unsettling moments. One particularly chilling line on how easy it was to manipulate Bella was Hedy’s lament to Allie “you just put her childhood out there for anyone to watch”, a powerful reminder of the toxic impact of social media.

Director Gordon Greenberg’s production makes no pretence of being a dark, Pinteresque psychological thriller; instead, it leans wholeheartedly into the inherent theatricality of its premise and delivers an evening of thrills, gasps, and generous helpings of laughter. The final fight scene is directed to the absolute hilt, a frenzied showdown that careens gleefully from taut melodrama into outright farce, complete with shattered props, wild physicality, and more than a few moments that had the audience gasping. Yet for all its excess, it still delivers a thoroughly entertaining climax that sends the crowd home buzzing.

Morgan Large's set design confines the action to Allie's apartment, a bright, modern space framed by a structure that frequently bursts with light and colour. The positioning of Hedy’s room, squeezed between Bella’s bedroom and the window, means it could scarcely be larger than a cupboard; whether deliberate or not, it adds to the camp fun of it all. Max Pappenheim's sound design layers well-chosen songs and soundscapes that heighten the melodrama, whilst Jason Taylor's lighting shifts deftly between domestic warmth and sinister chill, punctuated by strobes and bold colour flashes during transitions. Jump scares, electric sparks, and theatrical flourishes abound. The cumulative effect is a production that knows precisely what it wants to be, deploying its arsenal with knowing relish rather than restraint.

And then there is the infamous stiletto moment, rendered here with all the camp melodrama one could hope for. It achieves exactly what it sets out to do: mass gasps and uproarious laughter rippling through the Richmond Theatre auditorium in equal measure. It is a knowingly outrageous production, supremely entertaining, and delivered with a wink that invites the audience to revel in the absurdity rather than recoil from it.

Single White Female is not a production that will haunt your thoughts or challenge your assumptions about the human condition. It is, however, a production that is sufficiently self-aware to enjoy the campness of its material rather than labouring under the weight of unearned seriousness. It embraces its identity as a guilty pleasure and, in doing so, makes for an outrageously fun night at the theatre. If you are seeking brooding psychological depth, look elsewhere; if you want an evening of thrills, dark humour, and collective audience gasps, this is a thoroughly enjoyable ride.

Single White Female plays at Richmond Theatre until 18th April and continues touring until June. Tickets available here

Photos by Chris Bishop