Wimbledon has in recent years presented
the glitziest London pantomime outside the West End, and the least
enjoyable; implausible international casting like David Hasselhoff as
Captain Hook has seldom sent quality skyrocketing. This year, though,
the theatre has switched panto production outfits, and the whole feel
of the show has correspondingly altered.
Like London’s other
Jack And The
Beanstalk at Hammersmith, the cast boasts a mere six principals
plus ensemble. Here, though, two of those six are comedian Al Murray,
effectively playing his Pub Landlord persona in panto costume, and
Clive Rowe, who over a decade or so in Hackney Empire’s pantos has
become one of the finest dames in the business. Irrepressible,
unashamed to wear the most ridiculous drag (his Wonder Woman here is a
spectacle for the ages) and boasting a top-notch powerful singing
voice, Rowe can pretty much make a show on his own.
So it’s a puzzle why, when Wimbledon has successfully enticed him
across the city, it then often relegates him to a mere feed for Murray.
The latter works the audience with mastery and is likewise unstoppable
(I’m fairly sure the onstage giggles were genuine and unscripted), but
there’s simply too much of him here. I don’t mean the quality palls,
but giving maybe half the total playing time to a dramatically
tangential character unbalances the show. However light, skilled and
all-round playful Thom Southerland’s direction is, he’s left with only
so much time to tell the actual story. There’s no messy “slosh”
routine, no “ghost” sequence (it’s replaced by a 3D episode, which at
least doesn’t put the actual, real-live three-dimensional actors on
hold but has them interacting with the CGI) and the downfall of Giant
Blunderbore and his onstage avatar the wicked Baron Fleshcreep is
reduced to an afterthought.
Barry Robinson sources his score principally from golden-age Motown
(although a number that’s basically about sexual assault, with Stevie
Wonder’s “Superstition” rewritten as “Super Kissin’”, probably deserves
second thoughts just now), and it’s all a hoot (if an efficient hoot)
for the grown-ups. However, and most seriously, the kid-friendly
material all too frequently feels like ballast rather than one of the
central planks of the panto structure.
Written for the Financial
Times.