Dick Whittington - Review

London Palladium

****

Written by Alan McHugh

Music by Gary Hind

Directed by Michael Harrison

Nigel Havers and Charlie Stemp

Following critical and commercial success with last year’s Cinderella, QDOS Entertainment have again invested millions to make Dick Whittington the biggest, boldest and glitziest pantomime on the London circuit with what looks like a degree of overkill, taking a sledgehammer to crush a rat perhaps.

Alan McHugh’s script covers all the bases in the narrative – Dick meets Alice, is charged with ridding London of rats, is falsely charged with theft, goes to Morocco, comes back a hero and is hailed Lord Mayor – but the plot is subsumed to the procession of ‘turns’ hired to do their own excellent thing.  It’s normal in a pantomime to have a comedian, but here there are three – Julian Clary’s campery, Gary Wilmot’s clowning, Paul Zerdin’s ventriloquy – as well as Elaine Paige’s vintage vocals, and street dancer Ashley Banjo and his troupe Diversity who are rather oddly interposed as the Sultan and his bodyguards

This is an extraordinarily boldly costumed show which must have kept lurex manufacturers on overtime for months: at every scene change the 22-strong ensemble appears in a different saturated hue, with elaborate hats and a tonnage of feathers, and there are flashes of theatrical wit like in Fitzwarren’s sweetshop where mannequins pay homage to the ‘Beautiful Girls’ in Follies – or possibly ‘Springtime for Hitler’ – with headdresses and appendages made from giant liquorice allsorts.  

As the Spirit of the Bells Julian Clary's costumes are so elaborate with crystalline accessories they almost hamper his movement - although he doesn't need any excuse not to do choreography because he's nearly as bad at is as he is at singing although he’d defy you to point it out. But he's endlessly, wickedly funny especially at the expense of Elaine Paige who he refers to constantly as E.T.   His bone dry delivery, feigning ennui at the whole process is perfectly timed.

Julian Clary

There are a lot of Dick jokes, and a surprising number of very old jokes which haven't been brushed up for 2017: political topicality is limited to one glancing reference each to Brexit, Trump and Mrs May.  The audience love the old stagers - Nigel Havers is game for a laugh as a sort of self-propelled running gag about wanting a bigger part and being too old for it. Paige is markedly better at the singing than the comedy acting but the parodies of her greatest hits are well written, and Wilmot reminds you that he is every bit as much a musical theatre performer as a comedian when the routine he does naming every tube station to the tune of the can-can is the hit of the show.

But despite being fourth on the bill - and this really is a variety show - the best performer is the ventriloquist Paul Zerdin, British winner of America's Got Talent. Both his routine with his boy dummy Sam, and the words he puts in the mouths of the volunteer kiddies up on stage are terrific, and he's the closest this rather strange confection comes to traditional pantomime.

There is no top over which this production won’t go, whether it’s the rich innuendo in Clary’s script, or the tremendous mechanical effects of an animatronic giant rat, flying London bus or shipwreck where Clary and Charlie Stemp as Dick parody My Heart Will Go On from Titanic while sailing over the heads of the audience.  

At this point any visiting producer with a regional pantomime budget must have lost the will to live.

Ashley Banjo and Diversity

Runs until 14th January 2018

Reviewed by Johnny Fox

Photo credit: Paul Coltas

Le Grand Mort - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London

****

Written by Stephen Clark

Directed by Christopher Renshaw

Julian Clary

It is a rare treat these days to see a play written for its star. So it is with Le Grand Mort, penned by Stephen Clark and created specifically with Julian Clary in mind. Amidst a whirlpool of emotions, the unintended and unspoken sadness of the night is that Clark tragically died last year, never seeing the play brought to life.

Clark has written an exquisite piece that places Clary as Michael, a 50-something architect with a lifestyle that’s a fusion of Hannibal Lecter with, for those who can remember back that far, Graham Kerr’s Galloping Gourmet. (Younger readers may prefer to context Come Dine With Me.) Indeed as the play opens and Clary’s cookery commences, the air inside the compact Trafalgar 2 becomes quickly thick with the scent (stench?) of frying onions.

The action never leaves Michael’s kitchen, a fully functioning showpiece of a set from designer Justin Nardella, in which the preening professional is preparing pasta puttanesca (literally whore’s pasta) as he awaits the arrival of the much younger, rough-trade Tim. We learn that this is the first potentially romantic liaison of the two men after a period of pub-based flirting, but with a rack of chic kitchen knives ever prominent, menace is clear from the outset.

Clark’s writing has a cadence that’s rarely found these days, conjuring up images from a prose that is as assonant as it is meticulous. The whole piece runs for a non-stop 90mins, the first third of which is virtually a Clary monologue. One could almost be witnessing a grown-up version of The Joan Collins Fan Club such is Clary’s wit and persona - even if the patter he regales is a gruesome comment on death and necrophilia.

The arrival of James Nelson-Joyce’s Tim catapults the evening into a 21st century Sleuth. We learn that little of what the young man says is true - however it is clear from both his perfect physique and razor sharp wit, matching Michael's repartee word for word, that he is irresistible to the architect.

Clark’s writing is graphic and as his narrative unfolds to encompass incestuous paedophilia it is clear that his two protagonists are deeply damaged souls. But whilst the play’s language and its acting soar, it is hard to care too much for either man - even if Nelson-Joyce’s impressive nudity does briefly shift one’s attention from cook to cock.

The performances here are unquestionably first class and while Le Grand Mort may not be quite the comedy it set out to be, treat yourself to a large glass of Montepulciano and savour the work that’s on offer. Clark truly proves that there’s no fool like an old fool.

Runs to 28 October

Photo credit: Scott Rylander