It is a truth universally acknowledged that British serial killers make great entertainment. Whether it's Sweeney Todd and his demonic shaving techniques, John Christie the landlord from hell, or Burke and Hare with their unconventional approach to laboratory support services, there's something about that combination of antimacassars and psychopaths that makes audiences squirm with vicarious disgust and pleasure.
And the king of them all is of course Jack the Ripper. Subject of countless books, films, podcasts and, even before this week, at least three musicals, his brief reign of terror heralded the end of the macabre caricatures of Dickensian London and the arrival of the societal traumas of the 20th Century. (Even the fictional stars of This Is Spinal Tap toy with making a rock opera out of him, entitled Saucy Jack.)
What all these productions have in common is their determination to answer the question 'Who was he?' And it's a somewhat pointless crusade, because we will never know the answer for sure. The refreshingly clever and original concept behind this new musical by Sahar Malaika and Sam Phillips, produced by Not A Plot Productions, is that it asks a new question, and that is: what can we make out of this story that means something relevant?
What they make is not just a collection of songs and dances, but an expose of the historic treatment of women as an underclass, and a vision of the dismantling of the patriarchy that is both foot-tapping and nerve-jangling. This is Jack the Ripper meets London Road.
And it all takes place in the superficially twee surroundings of St Benet's Hall Chapel, the devotional space with the most uncomfortable pews in Oxford. Fortunately, Jack has a running time of just an hour. Much longer and your back may start to suffer. But that idea of pain hiding beneath beauty certainly fits the production - as does St Benet's own recent history. Benedictine monk Bernard Green taught and lived here for years while committing acts of sexual abuse right up to 2012. It's a disturbing, if less visceral, echo of the Ripper himself. Who knows what may have happened in this very room? Best not to dwell.
The cast of Jack is stuffed with top singing talent. In the central role of Mary, Nicole Palka bursts with energy and style. Building on her near-show-stealing turn as Paulette the hairdresser in Legally Blonde last term, Palka switches from demure victim to campaigner for women's rights at the flip of a farthing, and clearly gives her all. But all the main roles are filled by performers with experience and serious skill. Any show that can put the spellbinding Eleanor Bogie (Carlotta in last year's Phantom of the Opera) in a relatively minor supporting role must have an embarrassment of riches.
The dramatis personae that populated the London murders of 1888 are all here, and contributing to a story that, through sheer depth of research, feels at one with its subject matter. There is no set and there are no props, but with the help of scowling, abusive husbands, down-at-heel 'unfortunates', awkwardly polite policemen and scared, nervous sex-workers, the dingy backstreets of Whitechapel don't feel too far away.
The songs and dances in Jack feel strangely old-fashioned compared to the ideas behind the script. The vibe is 1980s torch-songs all the way, with hardly any changes of pace or style to bring variety to the mood. And the dancing is all ensemble formation movement, big hands and stamping feet. Subtle it's not. If there were one or two contrasting solos, or even a comedy policeman routine à la Pirates of Penzance, the slightly relentless anthems would have more space to breathe. And, given that the music is all pre-recorded and delivered through loudspeakers, some amplification for the hard-working singing voices would be a huge boost to audibility beneath the echoingly high ceiling of the chapel.
In the excitement of the final scenes, I'm not sure I quite followed the logic of the denouement. Somehow an inconspicuous article of clothing leads to a major revelation. I may have missed a vital detail while scribbling in my notebook.
But plot twists are of secondary importance. What matters most is the passion, energy and commitment that has gone into this production. It may be all heart and no microphones, but it's definitely fun and thought-provoking. You'll be discussing the end all the way home.
And don't worry. You will find out the true identity of Jack the Ripper. It's... oh, damn. I've hit my word limit.