The whodunit, a subgenre of detective fiction, has captivated audiences for over a century with its intricate plots, red herrings, and the ultimate revelation of a murderer. Yet, beneath its polished veneer lies a structure that bears striking resemblance to an older, bloodier tradition: the Jacobean revenge play. While the Jacobean play explores the inexorable descent into violence and moral decay, the whodunit subverts these elements, transforming the chaotic universe of revenge into a puzzle that rewards intellect and order. This post explores how the whodunit can be seen as a Jacobean revenge play turned on its head, where the thirst for vengeance is replaced by a quest for justice, and where the unraveling of truth replaces the inexorable march toward bloodshed.

The Jacobean Revenge Play: Chaos and Retribution

The Jacobean revenge play, epitomized by works like The Spanish Tragedy by Thomas Kyd and John Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi, is a drama steeped in blood, betrayal, and a spiraling descent into chaos. In these plays, revenge is not merely a personal vendetta; it is an elemental force that consumes both the avenger and their target, often leading to a climax where moral and social order is obliterated in a flurry of violence. The protagonist in these plays is typically driven by an overwhelming desire for retribution, often for a grievous wrong that cannot be undone. The path to vengeance is fraught with deception, madness, and ultimately, self-destruction.

In Hamlet, perhaps the most famous example of the genre, the prince’s quest for revenge against his uncle Claudius sets in motion a chain of events that leads to the deaths of nearly every major character. The whodunit takes this narrative framework—the quest for retribution, the uncovering of hidden truths, the pervasive atmosphere of mistrust—and transforms it into something more cerebral, where the emphasis shifts from chaos to order, and from retribution to revelation.

The Whodunit: Order Restored Through Revelation

In contrast to the Jacobean revenge play, the whodunit is a genre obsessed with the restoration of order. Where the Jacobean play revels in the spectacle of moral decay, the whodunit is a narrative puzzle, a game of logic where every piece must eventually fit into place. The detective, often a figure of almost superhuman rationality, serves as the antithesis of the Jacobean avenger. Rather than being consumed by a personal vendetta, the detective’s mission is to restore balance to a world disrupted by murder.

Consider Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot or Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes: these detectives are detached, clinical figures who, like a Jacobean avenger, seek the truth behind a crime. However, their goal is not revenge but justice. The murder in a whodunit is a disruption of the social order, and the detective’s role is to piece together the clues, sift through the lies, and ultimately, reveal the culprit. In doing so, the detective reasserts the primacy of reason over chaos, truth over deception.

The whodunit also subverts the Jacobean emphasis on inevitability. In a revenge play, the protagonist’s path to vengeance is often seen as predestined, a tragic fate that cannot be avoided. The whodunit, however, places the power in the hands of the detective—and by extension, the reader. The ending is not foreordained; it is a mystery to be solved, a challenge to the intellect. The whodunit invites the audience to participate in the narrative, to engage with the clues, and to attempt to outthink the detective. This participatory element stands in stark contrast to the Jacobean revenge play, where the audience is often a passive witness to the unfolding tragedy.

The Subversion of Violence

Violence in a whodunit, though central to the plot, is often relegated to the background. The murder itself is usually a past event, something that has already occurred before the narrative begins. The focus is not on the act of violence but on its aftermath—the investigation, the gathering of evidence, the questioning of suspects. This is a stark inversion of the Jacobean revenge play, where violence is often the climax, the ultimate expression of the protagonist’s inner turmoil.

In the whodunit, the violence is almost sanitized, transformed into a puzzle to be solved. The detective’s role is not to avenge the dead but to speak for them, to uncover the truth that the murder seeks to obscure. The act of detection becomes a moral endeavor, a way of restoring dignity to the victim by bringing the perpetrator to justice. The whodunit, in this sense, can be seen as a response to the moral chaos of the Jacobean revenge play, a narrative that seeks to impose order and meaning on the senselessness of murder.

Conclusion: The Whodunit as a Moral Reversal

Ultimately, the whodunit can be understood as a Jacobean revenge play turned on its head. Where the revenge play is a descent into chaos, the whodunit is an ascent to order. Where the revenge play is driven by personal vendetta, the whodunit is driven by a quest for justice. Where the revenge play ends in bloodshed, the whodunit ends in revelation.

This transformation reflects broader cultural shifts, from a worldview that sees violence as an inevitable response to wrongdoing, to one that sees rationality and justice as the ultimate arbiters of human behavior. The whodunit offers a narrative where the mind triumphs over the sword, where order is restored not through violence but through understanding. In doing so, it provides a counterpoint to the moral and social chaos of the Jacobean revenge play, offering instead a world where truth, ultimately, prevails.

Patricia Highsmith: A Return to Jacobean Revenge Plays by Way of Noir

Patricia Highsmith’s body of work is often categorized within the noir tradition, characterized by morally ambiguous characters, bleak settings, and a pervasive sense of fatalism. However, her novels and stories can also be seen as a modern revival of the Jacobean revenge play, refracted through the lens of 20th-century noir. In Highsmith’s world, the chaotic descent into violence and moral corruption that defined Jacobean drama is resurrected, but it is given a contemporary twist that aligns with the dark, psychological complexities of noir.

The Jacobean Revenge Play: Thematic Parallels

Jacobean revenge plays, such as John Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi or Thomas Middleton’s The Revenger’s Tragedy, are notorious for their exploration of vengeance, corruption, and the disintegration of moral and social order. In these plays, characters often engage in elaborate schemes of retribution, driven by deep personal grievances, leading to spirals of violence that consume both the avenger and the innocent alike. The protagonists in these plays are often anti-heroes, whose pursuit of revenge leads them down a path of moral compromise, self-destruction, and ultimately, death.

Patricia Highsmith’s characters, too, are frequently anti-heroes or even outright villains, driven by obsessions and desires that lead them into moral ambiguity and, often, destruction. Highsmith’s protagonists, like the Jacobean avengers, are often isolated figures, consumed by their fixations. However, where the Jacobean plays often depict revenge as a physical and bloody act, Highsmith explores psychological vengeance, where the mind becomes the battlefield and manipulation, deceit, and emotional torment become the weapons.

Tom Ripley: The Modern Avenger

One of the most compelling examples of Highsmith’s return to the Jacobean tradition is found in her most famous creation, Tom Ripley. The Ripliad—a series of five novels beginning with The Talented Mr. Ripley—chronicles the life of Tom Ripley, a charming yet morally bankrupt conman and murderer. Ripley is a quintessential anti-hero, driven by envy, ambition, and a desire for social ascension. Much like a Jacobean avenger, Ripley is a character whose actions are driven by deeply personal motives, often leading to the deaths of those who stand in his way.

In The Talented Mr. Ripley, Tom’s murder of Dickie Greenleaf is not just an act of survival but a twisted form of vengeance against the world that has denied him the status and wealth he craves. This act of violence sets off a chain of events that mirrors the chaotic unraveling typical of Jacobean revenge plays. However, unlike the tragic ends that befall Jacobean avengers, Ripley’s story takes a more noirish turn: he escapes justice, leaving behind a trail of deception and murder. Yet, despite his outward success, Ripley is haunted by paranoia and the fear of being caught, suggesting a psychological torment that is as destructive as any physical revenge.

Noir’s Fatalism and the Jacobean Worldview

The fatalism inherent in noir is another point of convergence between Highsmith and the Jacobean revenge play. Both genres operate within a world where moral absolutes are either absent or inverted, and where the quest for vengeance is often a symptom of a broader existential malaise. In Jacobean drama, the world is depicted as corrupt and decaying, where the pursuit of revenge leads inevitably to ruin. Similarly, in Highsmith’s novels, the world is morally ambiguous, and the characters’ actions often stem from a sense of existential dread or a nihilistic view of human nature.

Highsmith’s protagonists are often trapped in situations of their own making, much like the avengers of Jacobean drama. They are driven by desires that lead them into dark, inescapable corners, where the line between victim and perpetrator becomes blurred. This ambiguity is a hallmark of both noir and Jacobean revenge plays, where characters are frequently both the cause and the consequence of the violence that surrounds them.

Psychological Complexity: Highsmith’s Noir Lens

While the Jacobean revenge play is overtly theatrical and often grandiose in its depiction of violence, Highsmith’s approach is more subtle, emphasizing psychological over physical violence. This is where the noir influence is most evident. In Highsmith’s novels, the act of revenge is often internalized, manifesting as manipulation, deception, and emotional cruelty. The protagonists’ actions are driven not by external forces but by internal compulsions, making the narrative a psychological exploration as much as a plot-driven thriller.

Highsmith’s characters, like those in Jacobean plays, often engage in a game of cat and mouse, where the stakes are not just life and death but also sanity and identity. In Strangers on a Train, for example, the character Bruno’s suggestion of a “perfect murder” leads to a psychological battle between him and Guy, where the true horror lies not in the act of murder itself but in the psychological entanglement that ensues. This dynamic reflects the Jacobean tradition, where the avenger’s mind becomes consumed by their quest, leading to madness and self-destruction.

Conclusion: Highsmith’s Modern Jacobean World

Patricia Highsmith’s work can be seen as a modern reinvention of the Jacobean revenge play, filtered through the dark, fatalistic lens of noir. Her novels explore the same themes of vengeance, moral decay, and the disintegration of order that characterize Jacobean drama, but they do so in a way that emphasizes psychological over physical violence. Highsmith’s characters are modern-day avengers, driven by obsessions that lead them into a web of deceit, manipulation, and ultimately, self-destruction.

In Highsmith’s world, the chaotic descent into violence and moral ambiguity that defines Jacobean revenge plays is alive and well, but it is presented in a more intimate, internalized form. The result is a body of work that not only pays homage to the themes of Jacobean drama but also expands on them, creating a narrative space where the psychological and the noir intersect, and where the modern avenger continues to haunt the shadows.