I have to admit there have been times when commuting, I’d have longed to be put out of my misery. But that’s not for now, that’s for my local rail service feedback form.

I’m a so-called Agatha Christie fan. I say so-called because in all these years, I’ve not read this book and I’ve not seen either of the film adaptations. But the beauty of this blatant mis-step is that I was completely oblivious to ‘whodunnit’,

Winter 1934 and an avalanche stops The Orient Express dead in its tracks. A murder. A train full of suspects. An impossible case. Trapped in the snow with a killer still on-board, can the world’s most famous detective, Hercule Poirot, crack the case before the train reaches its final destination?

Starring Michael Maloney, adapted by Ken Ludwig and directed by Lucy Bailey, sharing the stage are Bob Barrett as Monsieur Bouc, Mila Carter as Countess Elena Andreyni, Rebecca Charles as Greta Ohlsonn, Debbie Chazen as Princess Dragomiroff, Simon Cotton as Samuel Ratchett, Jean-Baptiste Fillon as Michel, Christine Kavanagh as Helen Hubbard, Paul Keating as Hector MacQueen, Iniki Mariano as Mary Debenham, Rishi Rian as The Colonel and Alex Stedman as Head Waiter. Also in the cast are Jasmine Raymond and Beth Tuckey.

It never fails to amaze me how, without even a word uttered, a set can transport you out of a theatre space in Salford to another time, place and indeed fantasy world. In this case, a train. But no ordinary train – the Orient Express with all its classic beauty, opulence and grandeur. Punctuated by a deathly murder, true, but what’s a little dead body between commuters.

And, hey, the train not only turned up but left on time so, swings and roundabouts.

We enter their world as they’re preparing to board the train in Istanbul, each character exuding a level of mystery, a certain panache and non more-so than a certain Belgian detective, with more than a few ‘little grey cells’.

Mere hours into their journey and with barely a chance to complain about the poor wifi-signal or dismal choice of sandwiches in the buffet cart (what is this nation’s obsession with mayonnaise?), the train is brought to a physical stand-still when it hits a snow drift.

This bump on the tracks, however, is nothing compared to the stand-still brought to the first-class passengers, the next morning, with the discovery of the slain body in his compartment – the dastardly Samuel Ratchett.

Sooner than you can say, ‘he’s not French, he’s Belgian!’, Monsieur Hercule Poirot is on the case.

And with each passenger/suspect bringing more than a little ‘personality’ to proceedings, his investigations bring the term, ‘herding cats’ to mind.

Whilst we have Ms Christie to thank for the creation of these literary characters, we have the ensemble of actors in this production for each of their pitch-perfect portrayals and dynamism brought to the roles.

From the opening moments of the show where we see them in sync, moving across the stage seamlessly as one, this is a cast who equally share both the stage and audience’s attention with their captivating and comedic approaches to the role (personal favourites being Bob Barrett delivering a laugh out loud performance as Monsieur Bouc – train owner and friend of Poirot – and the undeniably but deliciously extra display that is four times marred mid-westerner Helen Hubbard (Christine Kavanagh).

Don’t be fooled by the promise of laughs and, at times, high camp. The play still delivers suspense via way of bloodied corpses, gunshots and screams, and darkened and smoky set-ups and reveals. It’s enough to make anyone think twice before jumping on the Caledonian Sleeper from Piccadilly.

Well-received throwaway gags, punchlines and knowing wry asides do nothing to diminish this depiction of what is a dark and murderous tale.

The set and lighting contribute to a feeling of claustrophobia and danger, cleverly allowing us sneak peaks of the train, the cabins and the action only when required and after sufficient suspense has been built.

Indeed the set and choreography of the train carriages, corridors and compartments as each scene’s location transition into the next, means the Orient Express does decent battle for the shining star of this production (I guess it is the title role).

Long an ambition, this was probably as near as I was going to get to travelling on this magnificent train . But the attention to period detail and the ability of the production to create an illusion of feeling like you’re on board yourself, provided a decent enough substitution. For now.

And as in grand tradition of a Poirot investigation, Hercule took centre stage (and left and right) as he delivered his verdict of ‘whodunnit’ and why. But not before taking us (and the suspects) on a whole other journey of sorts, as he tied up loose threads, revealed truths but not before a few twists and turns along the way.

From the moment he enigmatically emerged from the smoke, hat, cane snd moustache firmly in place and ready to do battle, I was ready to put Michael Maloney’s performance right up there amongst my favourite Poirot portrayals (yes, I have taken time to consider a list- I take these things seriously).

It was a depiction, and performance, that delivered a Poirot with an endearing warmth, a dry wit, but undeniable command and formidable approach to the law and those who break it.

This is a production faithful and respectful of its origin text, which unapologetically embraces the classic tropes, but with an energy that is fresh, funny and guaranteed to keep you in suspense until it reaches its final destination.

This service runs from The Lowry Theatre until 14 September. To secure your seat, get your ticket to board here at https://thelowry.com/whats-on/murder-on-the-orient-express/