Tag Archives: Catherine Tate

Review – Sleeping Beauty, London Palladium, 28th December 2025

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I can’t imagine a Christmas season without a trip to the London Palladium pantomime. I remember looking forward to it so much whenever I went as a child and when they brought it back ten years ago, I was first in line banging to be let in (figuratively, at least). And, boy oh boy, have they taken the opportunity to point out that this is the tenth anniversary of the return of the Palladium panto! I’m all for a spot of nostalgia, but this rather takes the biscuit with an inordinately long introduction wallowing through the last ten years. Pretty heavy-handed stuff! Mind you, as Julian Clary himself points out, there’s not much to the story of Sleeping Beauty – five minutes worth of plot and the rest is padding.

But what delightful padding it is. As you would expect from a Michael Harrison pantomime, the sets are extravagant, the costumes outstanding, and the orchestra (under the baton of Greg Arrowsmith) sumptuous. The first Act concludes with us all arriving at the Forest of Thorns, a theatrical tour-de-design which not only monopolises the stage but the auditorium.

A superb ensemble of boys and girls in the chorus carry the responsible load of driving the musical numbers with the appropriate mix of fun family fantasy  and inimitable Palladium knowing naughtiness. In fact, it was an alumnus from last year’s Palladium Panto, Robin Hood, who grew into this year’s Prince Peter of Pimlico, Amonik Melaco; a confident jump towards stardom with some terrific material about how he got the job. I was surprised that Mr Clary didn’t remark on what a good fist he made of it.

He is matched by a charming performance by Emily Lane as the super-goody Princess Aurora; but it is a mark of the Palladium Panto that they are the least two important characters in the entire show. It’s really a showcase for individual stars to come out and do a routine in the Grand Old Tradition of the Palladium Revue – perhaps nowhere illustrated better than in Dave Knox’s couple of minutes of fire-eating as Master of the Royal Flame.

However, I’m sorry to say that it’s not all Cakes and Ale. In the first half, some of the script seems a little underpowered, and scenes rather peter out into nothing. I went into the interval feeling that this year’s show was a little forced and flat. Things cheer up enormously in the second Act, including a very jolly Twelve Days of Panto routine, Paul Zerdin’s mastery of ventriloquism with two hapless punters from the audience, and lots of Evita references, including an inspired moment with Nigel Havers on the balcony.

In addition to the usual fare of endless opportunities for Julian Clary to be outrageous and Nigel Havers to be ridiculed, much of the show relies on the increasingly National Treasure-to-be Rob Madge providing a theatrical conduit between the audience and the stage as The Diva of Dreams, and they are fantastic as always. New recruit Jon Culshaw makes us shudder with terror at his impersonations of both Donald Trump and Keir Starmer, although, personally, I think he should drop the Martyn Lewis.

Much of the success of the Palladium panto relies on how well the big guest star takes to the challenge. Whilst comparisons are odious (but I always do them anyway) Catherine Tate is among the best of the bunch. She relishes the campy cruelty of playing Carabosse, with an enviably callous vocal delivery. The show is dotted with appearances from some of her favourite characters; her sketch based on gay-denying Derek in the first Act doesn’t really work, but the appearance of am I bovvered Lauren near the end works very well, but the best moment in the show comes with Nan Taylor fronting the ensemble in a rousing rendition of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. There’s no doubt that she received the biggest cheer from the audience.

Enormous fun and some tremendous routines – just a shame they spent so long getting going with all that tenth anniversary material! At time of writing there are just sixteen tickets left for the last five performances, as it closes on Sunday 11th January. But we are promised a new Panto for 2026-27, so hurrah for that!

4-starsFor They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – The Enfield Haunting, Ambassadors Theatre, London, 28th December 2023

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Sometimes, gentle reader, a theatre review will virtually write itself. You sit down at the computer and start tapping away and all your thoughts and insights come spilling out and within ten minutes you’ve filled the equivalent of a sheet of foolscap (yes, I am that old.) And on other occasions, you stare blankly at the screen, then blankly at the programme, then blankly at the hurried notes you made as you walked out of the theatre and think to yourself, Jeez where the hell do I start?! And writing about The Enfield Haunting is such an occasion.

No one, apart from Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder in The Producers, sets about creating a lousy show. In The Enfield Haunting, the component parts are all there. An extraordinary supernatural thriller, based on the real life events of a house in Enfield in the late 1970s where there were reports of unexplained poltergeist activity. Reliable witnesses reported seeing furniture being chucked around, levitations, grisly voices, thrown toys, knocking on walls; all the elements you’d look for in a decent scary paranormal show. There’s a cast led by two stars, Catherine Tate and David Threlfall, both great for Box Office. The creative team boasts experienced set and costume designer and directors, and award-winning lighting and sound designers. When I first heard that this production was going to hit the West End, I was at the front of the queue flourishing my credit card.

But then came the word of mouth from its opening try-outs in Brighton and Richmond in November; almost universal in its criticism of unmitigated boredom, confusion, pointlessness and terrible performances. Surely some mistake? Its original press performance, scheduled for 6th December, was put back to 10th January. Its running time has been cut from an original 1 hour 50 minutes, then to 1 hour 40 minutes; the programme states it will last 90 minutes, but the production we saw lasted 75 minutes. There’s clearly been a lot of slicing out of material – in fact, there are some characters listed under Cast in the programme who do not appear in the play, unless I nodded off during their spot. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that it is improved for being shortened; I’d much rather spend 75 minutes getting nowhere than 110.

This was the second time we’d seen a play in 2023 that showed much promise in the adverts but really wasn’t ready for public viewing by the time people were resting their bums on seats – yes, I’m looking at you, The Inquiry. But it is amazing how a talented and hard-working creative team can come together and create something that’s so lifeless, dull and incredibly confusing. Writer Paul Unwin has come up with a kind of Waiting for Poltergeist, but unlike Godot, the poltergeist does turn up every so often. Trouble is no one sees him except us, so we’re left with an unfunny version of the bench sketch in a panto where we shout Behind You! whenever the ghosts appear.

I couldn’t decide whether the writing was deliberately or accidentally confusing; suffice to say, we never really get to the bottom of whether spirit hunter Maurice Grosse is only there because he likes little girls – I can’t imagine what his remaining family and friends must think about the insinuations in the play. There’s also confusion about whether eleven-year-old Janet Hodgson, through whom the poltergeist makes his presence felt, is somehow linked to or a replacement for Grosse’s daughter (also Janet) who (genuinely) died in a motorcycle accident. What’s all that about?

However, it’s not all bad. There are a few nice moments of tension, and a few scenes lighten the mood with occasional humour. The set looks good, and the acting is all perfectly fine (well, nearly all). The role of middle-aged single mum Peggy Hodgson is something Catherine Tate could probably do in her sleep; it doesn’t stretch her in any way, but then again, it doesn’t need to. David Threlfall gives a more interesting performance as Grosse, a balance of kindly curiosity and otherworldly creepiness. Ella Schrey-Yeats is pretty scary as Janet, and Grace Molony is amusing as her challenging teenager sister Margaret, although both actors appear to be way too old to convincingly portray an eleven- and a thirteen-year-old.

My main takeaway from the show was that it simply felt like a great opportunity wasted. It should have been so much scarier, so much either funnier or more savage (depending in which direction you want to take it) and the end should be much more conclusive. It is, clearly, however, hugely better than when it first went on the road; and the moral, should you wish to look for one, is don’t keep the previous dead tenant’s armchair when you move in. Take it to the skip and you can avoid a lot of unpleasantness.

Two Disappointing For More!

Review – Assassins, Menier Chocolate Factory, 11th January 2015

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The musical theatre is a very broad church. Only a few hours ago I was writing about how Anything Goes is a brilliant show but ever so lightweight. Today I am writing about Assassins, also a brilliant show (in a different way) but as dark as dark can be. If Anything Goes can be likened to nibbling at a stick of candy floss (and I think it can), Assassins is like tucking in to a lump of nutty slack. It first hit the UK stage in 1992, at a time when Mrs Chrisparkle and I didn’t see much theatre, so it’s great to be able to fill in the gaps of one’s Sondheim knowledge. Up till now the only link I had between the notion of assassins and musicals theatre was a character called The Assassin, who sang “I’m an A double S a double S I N”, from Tim Rice’s long forgotten Blondel. I think I used to irritate Mrs C by singing it a lot. Fortunately it’s a phase I’ve grown out of.

Sondheim’s assassins are not really in the Tim Rice mould. The show takes several famous assassins (or wannabe assassins), all of whom had a crack at taking out an American President (and I don’t mean on a dinner date). The show gathers them together and makes them confront each other, even though in real life they lived at different times and places. Sondheim forces them to look at their motives, their modus operandi, and their influence on each other. They challenge each other, they support each other, they goad each other on; and, for the most part, they each come to a sticky end. All this jollity set in a nightmare fantasy fairground. Well, where else would you set such a show? In fact when you descend those old steps into the Menier auditorium it’s like going to Luna Park in Sydney – a thoroughly creepy experience. The place is littered with all sorts of fairground ephemera, including those huge open mouthed clown faces and a decrepit old dodgems car. You have pick your way quite carefully to your seat, which may include encroaching on the stage a little -which is in traverse for this performance, something the Menier lends itself to superbly well.

Regular readers (bless you), may recollect my mantra that I prefer a brave failure to a lazy success. Well, this is an extremely brave and innovative show, and I certainly wouldn’t class it a failure by any means. To be fair, you couldn’t call it Sondheim’s strongest score, and I can’t really remember any of the tunes; but it’s very enjoyable. However, when it was all over, Mrs C and I looked at each other and just felt completely baffled by the whole thing. If I were to be able to ask Mr Sondheim just one question about it, it would be the one word: “why?” It’s an incredibly niche content – not just murderers, but assassins; not just assassins but assassins of US Presidents. I can’t believe Sondheim had people knocking at his door begging for this to be the subject matter of his latest show. I can only put it down to a huge burst of creative eccentricity.

One of the great things about the Menier is its intimacy. When you sit in row A, our usual chosen position, you’re within touching distance of the cast. Assassins has a cast of sixteen, the majority of whom are all on stage at the same time, and when they’re doing fairly intricate and powerful dance moves and gestures in that relatively small area, it feels incredibly close. There’s a lot of bringing your feet in as much as possible so you can’t trip anyone up (never send a murderer arse over tip is a good motto I feel); and there are some sequences when the cast sit on chairs staring out at the audience, which is an opportunity to see if you can out-stare them. They’ve practised that – they always out-stare you back. Much of Chris Bailey’s choreography is quite stompy (not a criticism, merely an observation), and as the cast stomp around you, you can feel yourself literally shaking in your seat. This is an all-round experience production – loud, vibrating, vivid, powerful and literally in-your-face. No one’s going to nod off during this show.

Whilst there are some star names in the cast, it’s very much an ensemble piece, and it’s hard to identify any particular role that outweighs the others – apart, perhaps, from the central character, “the Proprietor”, played by Simon Lipkin, whose fairground (I presume) we inhabit. He spends most of the show standing up to the assassins and getting regularly shot by them, all the time masked in the most terrifying circus make up. If you see Mr Lipkin’s face in the programme, you’d never believe they were the same person. Imagine an elaborately painted clown’s face that has been left out in the rain for an hour or so, resulting in streams of contrasting colours trickling down and ruining his vest. It’s a long shot, but if you remember the RSC’s Comedy of Errors from the late 1970s, his appearance reminded me strongly of Doctor Pinch, the Schoolmaster. I really enjoyed Mr Lipkin’s performance – powerful, terrifying, intense; the stuff of nightmares.

Another slightly strange role is that of the Balladeer. For the first three-quarters of the show, he sings and strums his banjo on the sidelines, commenting on the action, like an Everyman figure; pivotal in the show numbers but neither, as far as one can make out, an assassin nor a victim. However, towards the end he becomes Lee Harvey Oswald, antagonised by John Wilkes Booth (who despatched Abraham Lincoln) into committing a crime you feel he had no reason to undertake other than that supreme sense of flattery when everyone knows your name. He’s played by one of our favourite performers, Jamie Parker; you always know you’re in very safe hands with him in the cast.

The majority of the male assassins are rather dour creatures. David Roberts’ Leon Czolgosz, the anarchist who assassinated President McKinley, could be mistaken for Lenin on a dark night, despairingly flitting across the stage in an angst-ridden quest for justice, until he goes all gooey eyed at his heroine Emma Goldman – it’s an unexpectedly amusing scene between them. I was very impressed with Harry Morrison’s performance as John Hinckley, who attempted to assassinate Reagan; a seething mass of vengeance under a barely concealed veneer of calm – so different from the Mr Morrison we enjoyed a few months ago in Chichester’s Guys and Dolls, which is, coincidentally, where was last saw Jamie Parker too.

Steward Clarke’s Giuseppe Zangara, who attempted assassination on Franklin D Roosevelt, is portrayed as a vicious, angry victim himself – driven mental because of his constant stomach pains., Mr Clarke’s unnervingly wild eyes contribute to a very compelling performance, particularly when Zangara meets his electrifying death. Mike McShane, dressed as a rather bedraggled Santa Claus for a reason I couldn’t quite make out, takes the role of Samuel Byck, the unhinged wannabe assassin of Richard Nixon, whose murderous attempt was somewhat hapless and ended up with him killing himself instead. Mr McShane is a fine actor with a great stage presence, but I found his monologues where he is recording messages to Leonard Bernstein just a bit too long, and lacking in dramatic tension. It’s the only place where I felt John Weidman’s book needed some trimming.

On the other hand, a couple of the male assassins were much brighter characters. The always entertaining Andy Nyman (who we’ve seen at the Menier twice before – has he taken up residence?) plays Charles Guiteau (assassin of President Garfield), bouncing around the stage like an excited puppy. He’s obsessed with becoming Ambassador to France, and is clearly a maverick and a charlatan, and immense fun to watch. His death by hanging scene is a great piece of stagecraft, encompassing tragedy and hilarity at the same time. Broadway favourite Aaron Tveit takes the role of John Wilkes Booth, bestriding the stage, moustachioed like Van Dyck, cajoling and coaxing many a wannabe assassin into action. With controlled power, Mr Tveit gives us almost every emotion under the sun; never let him near an empty coke bottle. It’s a very enjoyable performance.

There are only two female assassins, both of whom acted in collaboration with each other in two separate attempts to assassinate Gerald Ford: Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme, played by the excellent Carly Bawden (unforgettable as Eliza in Sheffield’s My Fair Lady), and TV favourite Catherine Tate as Sara Jane Moore. Carly Bawden is wonderfully irrepressible as Fromme, balancing no-nonsense serious threats with totally loopy adoration of Charles Manson; and Catherine Tate is hilarious as the rather inept and definitely thick Moore, taking her son and her dog to the assassination, hurling bullets manually at the President when the gun doesn’t work (which is one of the funniest things I’ve seen on stage in a long time). If you like Catherine Tate’s TV show, you’ll love her in this – Sara Jane Moore would fit perfectly into her repertoire of weird and wacky characters. Mind you, I’d better be careful what I say about Moore and Fromme as they’re both out on parole now.

A big theatrical experience, with a great band, costumes, make up, and set; more gunshots than you would normally expect in a lifetime at the theatre; and a colourful finale that cleverly covers the entire stage and some of the seats in a sea of blood (don’t worry, it’s an illusion, you don’t get wet). A very high impact production and, rarely for me, one of the occasions when not having an interval feels strangely appropriate. Whilst there is some humour, it’s not what you’d call a Musical Comedy; and I can’t say that you leave the theatre on a high – we left it rather shell-shocked at what we’d seen. But it’s certainly a stunner. It’s on at the Menier until 7th March, but if you haven’t booked, it’s too late as the whole of the rest of the run is sold out. There’s got to be the potential of a transfer, surely – but it needs to be kept intimate, so as to preserve the claustrophobic power of the whole thing. Congratulations to the Menier, another winner!