Most likely, you already know whether you would enjoy an evening of The Dinner Detective, an interactive murder mystery show. The Dinner Detective originated in L.A. in 2004 and now runs public and private shows (e.g. weddings) all over the country. The New Haven incarnation runs at the Omni Hotel two to four Saturday nights each month, with the show rotating periodically. November and December’s show is “The Hollywood Hit,” and should you be Christmas shopping, they do offer gift certificates.
If you’re wondering whether this is for you, ask yourself: Were you in a high school musical or show choir? Have you ever quoted Clue? Do you like theme parties, games with funny-shaped dice, or group Halloween costumes? To any of those “yes”es, add one more.
If, however, your sense of self is a solid and immutable thing dedicated to the preservation of dignity, then maybe it’s a “no.” Unless you’re married to a former theater kid? And it’s date night? Then buckle up for the extrovert express.
The person who will get the most out of this experience is, in short, game. From the moment you generate your code name and write it on a sticky tag, you are encouraged to “interrogate” everyone around you. The urge to make standard small talk with these strangers is strong, but it’s more fun if you commit to a persona and to the situation as a mystery rather than as a thing the extroverted partner dragged you to. Picking a funny code name helps. The guest known only as “Your Mom” generated punchlines all night.
Another way to ensure your best time is to roll a little deeper than date night: Gather four to six of your gamest friends, the ones who’ve already got a read on your weird quotient so you don’t have to step out of your tonight-only persona to ask what they do for a living. Keep your group numbers in single digits, though. You need at least a couple of strangers at your 10-person table.
This maybe goes without saying, but visit the bar right when you walk in. The line for drinks is the most natural place for casual interrogations, and there is an amount of alcohol that will loosen you into a better dinner detective. Of course, the graph describes a parabola; move further out on the alcohol-consumption axis, and you eventually plummet on the skill axis.
By the time the salads were cleared, a murder had occurred, and the evening transitioned into the first of three acts, each with its own downloadable dossier of clues. The night was emceed with contagious verve by local actors Markus Esposito and Matt Simmons, who, as the bumbling but cheeky lead detectives, kept things lively with verbal gymnastics, physical comedy and a steady stream of ostensibly random interrogations of audience members.
While it’s better not to think of the meta-situation, inevitably you’re going to be basing some of your opinions not on the content of the interrogation but on whether the suspect seems like an actor. Surely the guy at your table in the purple shirt and the Party City fedora is a plant. But would a ringer go to the bar so many times? It did sort of seem like the bartender recognized him… but is that significant?
As someone who spends a lot of time in classrooms, I’d like to think I can tell when the person who has been called on is truly panicking, but it turns out it’s impossible to distinguish between awkward-acting and acting awkward. I had salmon for dinner, but as the second and third acts unspooled, I swallowed a number of red herrings.
The food options were pretty much what you’d expect in a ballroom at the Omni with a hundred dinner companions: a choice of chicken, salmon or tortellini with mushrooms; salad; an appetizer that might have been pea puree on little toast; and a perfectly welcome if perfectly standard slice of cheesecake. Alcohol isn’t included in the $84.95 price of admission, but the bar sells basic mixed drinks, beers and wine. A chardonnay was $14.
At the end of the roughly three-hour show, I did not correctly guess the murderer, but I did appreciate the way the results were presented. Admittedly, I am in favor of giving a room full of people a writing prompt (classrooms!), but the real beauty of the written-answers-only format was that it gave clever participants a chance to shine. The host read aloud responses that were inventive, funny, hilariously off-point or impressively on-. In a twist that will surprise no one, this was an improv-friendly crowd. I’d be shocked if there wasn’t at least one “yes, and” tattoo in the mix.
If any of the above makes you feel flames on the side of your face, this isn’t the event for you, but then again it doesn’t have to be “you” who shows up. Pick a code name. Your Mom did.
Written and photographed by Sarah Harris Wallman. Image 2 features Matt Simmons (left) and Markus Esposito.
