Novak Djokovic’s deportation from Australia in 2022 divided tennis fans across the globe, calling into question the influence of elite athletes in politics, not to mention Djokovic’s understanding of science. Nick Kyrgios’ domestic assault charges brought shame and anger to the game. And widespread match-fixing and drug abuse have long been the talk of critics and fans alike.

If you are interested in watching a play that ruthlessly interrogates this seedy underbelly of the elite tennis world, you will derive no benefit at all from watching Fergus Woods Dunlop’s Crimes on Centre Court.

Crimes on Centre Court is an intentionally ludicrous whodunnit, which bears essentially no relationship to actual tennis at all. It is also a play that, judging by the audience at the Cambridge Arts Theatre, has cornered the octogenarian theatregoing market with aplomb.

“What this play really exposes is the limits of theatre reviewing”

So, it is hard to know how to review this play. Objectively, as comedies go, it is imperfect. Many of the jokes get established early-on and then recur throughout—not in a clever way, but in a ‘the-writers-started-to-run-out-of-ideas-by-scene-four’ way. One of the jokes is a reference to, and I regret to inform you of this, Jackie Weaver. Alliteration is often used as a substitute for a punchline. However, no substitute was offered for suspense in this murder mystery. I could go on.

However, I can’t help but think that to really bash these weaknesses would be to miss the point. Like them or not, the play’s jokes landed superbly with their actual target audience. Which was not, or at least not intended to be, 20-year-old Varsity reviewers. If the play works, why should it matter if it was a bit cringeworthy too?

And there were some genuinely endearing moments. The rotating cast of four actors—comprised of Emile Clarke, Kirsty Cox, Sedona Rose and Ben Thornton—cover a full twenty-two characters, each of whom is genuinely, impressively, distinctive. Connie Watson’s costume design complemented the challenging multi-rolling aspects of the play. The set is ingenious, providing some of the best laughs of the night. And the tennis matches themselves, the set-pieces of the show, are a treat.

It is not a play that will prompt much introspection or deep thought. It is a show you either love or hate, and I strongly suspect that most Cambridge students would fall into the second camp.

So yes, this is a whodunnit with almost no intrigue. And yes, once you have seen five minutes of the play you have acquainted yourself with 90% of its comedy value. But what this play really exposes is the limits of theatre reviewing. I can’t earnestly tell you, hand on heart, that I adored Crimes on Centre Court. But I think I can tell you that your grandparents would.