Honestly, it shouldn't have worked. A musical comedy about a guy methodically picking off eight relatives to inherit a family fortune? It sounds dark. Gory, maybe. But when A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder hit Broadway in 2013, it didn't just work—it absolutely killed. It’s a farce. It’s an Edwardian satire. Most of all, it’s a masterclass in how to make a serial killer the most likable guy in the room.
The show is based on Roy Horniman’s 1907 novel Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal. If that sounds familiar, it might be because the book also inspired the classic 1949 film Kind Hearts and Coronets. But where the movie is dry and droll, the musical is a frantic, high-energy romp. It follows Monty Navarro, a penniless clerk who discovers he’s actually ninth in line to become the Earl of Highhurst. The catch? The D’Ysquith family—the wealthy snobs who disowned his mother—stand in his way.
So, Monty does what any reasonable person would do. He decides to eliminate them. One by one.
The One-Man D’Ysquith Dynasty
You can’t talk about A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder without talking about the D’Ysquiths. Specifically, the fact that one actor plays all eight of them. In the original Broadway production, Jefferson Mays took on this Herculean task. He played everyone from a pompous clergyman to a terrible philanthropist to a flamboyant bodybuilder. It’s a feat of costume-changing magic that feels like a high-speed Olympic sport.
The sheer logistics are insane. At some points, Mays had less than 30 seconds to switch from a Victorian gown to a full tweed suit. It’s brilliant. It keeps the audience in a constant state of "How did he just do that?" This isn't just a gimmick, though. Having one person play the entire family subtly reinforces Monty’s perspective: to him, these people are all the same brand of annoying, entitled obstacle. They are interchangeable. They are expendable.
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Robert L. Freedman (book and lyrics) and Steven Lutvak (music and lyrics) knew exactly what they were doing with this structure. They leaned into the absurdity of the Edwardian era. It’s a time of strict social codes and ridiculous hats, making it the perfect playground for a dark comedy.
Why Monty Navarro Is the Ultimate Anti-Hero
We usually root against the guy with the poison and the trap doors. Not here. Monty Navarro, originally played by Bryce Pinkham, is charming. He’s desperate. He’s deeply in love with a woman named Sibella who basically tells him, "I love you, but you're too poor to marry." You kind of get why he starts looking at that family tree with a hatchet in his hand.
The musical balances two love interests. There’s Sibella, the vain and seductive social climber, and Phoebe, the virtuous and high-minded D’Ysquith cousin. The "I’ve Decided to Marry You" trio is arguably the funniest scene in modern musical theater history. Monty is literally running back and forth between two doors, trying to keep both women from seeing each other while proposing to one and hiding the other. It’s pure Vaudeville.
It’s fast. It’s breathless. It makes you feel like you’re in on the crime.
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The Score: Operetta Meets Music Hall
The music in A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder doesn't sound like your typical "belty" Broadway show. You won’t find any pop ballads here. Instead, Lutvak crafted a score that feels like a love letter to Gilbert and Sullivan. It’s legit singing. It’s patter songs. It’s sophisticated.
Songs like "The Poison in My Pocket" or "Better With a Man" rely on witty lyrics rather than heavy production. The humor is in the rhyme schemes. When Lord Adalbert D'Ysquith sings "I Don't Understand the Poor," it's a biting satire of the upper class that feels surprisingly relevant even now. He’s confused by why poor people don't just, you know, stop being poor. It’s ridiculous. It’s also a little too close to home sometimes.
The Tony Awards Sweep and Why It Matters
When the 68th Tony Awards rolled around in 2014, Gentleman’s Guide was the underdog. It was a small, wordy musical competing against big-budget spectacles. And yet, it walked away with Best Musical, Best Book, and Best Direction. It proved that audiences still have an appetite for cleverness over pyrotechnics.
The show ran for 905 performances at the Walter Kerr Theatre. Since then, it’s become a staple for regional theaters and colleges. Why? Because it’s a director’s dream. It doesn't require a massive rotating stage or a falling chandelier. It requires timing. If the timing is off by a millisecond, the joke dies. When it’s on? It’s electric.
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Common Misconceptions About the Show
People often hear "musical about a serial killer" and think of Sweeney Todd. Let’s be clear: this is not Sweeney Todd. There is no meat pie, and there’s very little actual "horror." The deaths are cartoonish. One D’Ysquith falls through the ice while skating. Another is stung by a swarm of bees. It’s more Looney Tunes than Stephen Sondheim.
Another thing people get wrong is the "Guide" part. Some think it’s a literal guide to Edwardian etiquette. It’s not. The title refers to a memoir Monty is writing from his jail cell while awaiting execution. The entire show is a flashback. This framing device adds a layer of tension—you know he gets caught, but you don't know why or if he’ll actually hang for it.
How to Experience Gentleman’s Guide Today
If you missed the Broadway run, you’re in luck. The show is frequently licensed for local productions because of its small cast size and high entertainment value.
- Listen to the Original Cast Recording: Bryce Pinkham and Jefferson Mays are irreplaceable. The way Mays differentiates the voices of the eight D’Ysquiths on the album is a masterclass in vocal acting.
- Look for Regional Tours: Many high-end regional houses (like the Old Globe or the Ahmanson) have staged brilliant versions of this.
- Read the Source Material: If you want to see how dark the story can actually get, pick up Israel Rank. It’s much more cynical than the musical, which makes the adaptation’s upbeat tone even more impressive.
The show teaches a weirdly practical lesson: if you're going to be a villain, at least be a charming one. It’s a reminder that musical theater can be sophisticated, hilariously mean-spirited, and incredibly joyful all at the same time.
Actionable Next Steps
To truly appreciate the craft behind this show, start by listening to the song "I've Decided to Marry You" while watching a video of the Broadway performance. Pay attention to the door timing; it is the backbone of the show's physical comedy. If you are a performer, study Jefferson Mays’ character work for the D’Ysquiths to understand how to use posture and vocal placement to create distinct identities instantly. Finally, check your local theater listings—this show relies heavily on intimate spaces, making it a perfect night out at a community or regional playhouse.