A note in the playbill for Manoa Valley Theatre's production of “;Sleuth”; asks the reader to “;not disclose the plot”; of English playwright Anthony Shaffer's 1970-vintage murder mystery. Fair enough. A reviewer should never reveal the surprises a writer intends the audience to experience, even though in the case of “;Sleuth,”; keeping the secrets makes it difficult to comment on the problems that are a significant part of the Manoa Valley production.

OK, so it won't spoil any of the surprises to mention that the show moves very slowly. It also shouldn't spoil anything to mention that anyone who leaves at intermission will miss more than 50 percent of what Shaffer intends the audience to get out of the story.

However, when characters do things that don't make sense in the context of a story, it is easy to feel cheated. For instance, a character at the point of death having two opportunities to save his life and not acting on either of them. Or a man who should have a thorough knowledge of criminal procedure acting in ways that defy credibility.

Are these people crazy? Or are they as far over the edge as police detective Nick Curran in “;Basic Instinct?”;

The story opens with an interesting premise. Wealthy murder mystery writer Andrew Wyke invites his new neighbor over for drinks at his palatial country estate. The neighbor, Milo Tindle, is the current lover of Wyke's wife. Wyke knows that, Tindle knows that Wyke knows, and Wyke acknowledges it as only a gentleman of the old school could — with a mix of gracious good manners and casual superiority.

Wyke says he would be quite happy to have Tindle take his wife off his hands but fears that the younger man lacks the financial resources to keep her in the style Wyke's wealth makes possible.

At first, Tindle holds that while she might stay with Wyke for his money, their relationship is based on “;a life of love and simplicity.”; However, with prompting, Tindle confesses that, yes, she is high maintenance and he is already drawing on his savings to buy her the things she wants and take her to the places she wants to go.

Wyke suggests a solution to Tindle's financial woes. He has more than 1 million pounds worth of fully insured jewelry in a safe in the living room. He'll help Tindle “;steal”; the jewelry and then claim the insurance, while Tindle takes the jewels to a trustworthy fence in Amsterdam. Wyke already has contacted the fence!

Oh, but there's just one thing. Wyke wants Tindle to commit the “;burglary”; wearing a clown suit.

Never mind the obvious questions — Would any sane man take his girlfriend's husband as his partner in crime? Why the clown suit? — the production turns out to be a showcase for the formidable talents of the two leads, Todd Coolidge (Tindle) and Dwight Martin (Wyke), who is also Manoa Valley Theatre's producing director.

Martin dominates much of the action with an appropriately broad portrayal of a man whose heart lies in the manners and mores of an earlier time and place — England, as enjoyed by the upper class between wars — and the once-popular literary genre in which complicated murder mysteries were solved by eccentric amateur detectives.

Coolidge uses a wider range of character development in playing an Englishman of lower-class immigrant origins, who is acquiring the restraint expected of gentlemen but is still grounded in the direct and outspoken ways of his hardscrabble past.

Their duel takes place on an expansive multilevel set that instantly establishes Wyke as a man of wealth while also conveying hints of his personality. Benjamin MacKrell (set design) and Julia Pons (scenic art/decor) share credit for Wyke's mansion and its contents. Jason Taglianetti (sound design) provides programming for the mansion's music system and Newton K. Koshi (hair and makeup) is the key player in the success of a pivotal scene in Act II.