★★★★

“it’s a joy to watch the exuberant camaraderie spread among the cast”

When Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve’s “La Belle et la Bête” was first published in the early eighteenth century, it rapidly entered into folklore, spreading beyond its native France to Italy, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Eastern Europe, Scandinavia, Southern and Eastern Asia and North and South America. You could say worldwide, I guess. Along the way it adopted many different titles, but we all know it by its literal translation, “Beauty and the Beast”. Why am I telling you this? You already know. Embedded in childhood and then reinforced in adulthood through stage and screen, the story is like a comfort blanket for us; a seasonal favourite – instantly familiar.

Familiar, that is, until writers Jon Bradfield and Martin Hooper get their filthy little fingers on it. The story’s path does kind of lead you from start to finish, but its twisting, staggering, drunken meanderings will trip you up from the outset. ‘Losing the plot’ is an apt phrase here. It’s best just to follow blindly and go with the flow. Though you’re still likely to lose your footing, for you’ll be creasing up with laughter. You simply won’t have time, nor the inclination, to scrutinise the storyline.

We are in the Scottish hamlet of Lickmanochers (neighbouring village, Suckmacoch, is just across the valley). The eponymous ‘Beauty’ is now Bertie, who helps run the town’s only petrol station/general store along with his sister and overbearing mother. They each seem to be looking for love, or rather just the raunchy side effects. This is “Beauty and the Beast: A Horny Love Story” after all. Some may argue it’s nonsense, but that just shows a lack of imagination. It goes without saying, surely, that our protagonists will end up on a North Sea oil rig staffed by pop band Village People’s failed auditionees. Via the beast’s castle of course. The beast is called Charlie (a pretty sexy beast, mind, if you happen to go for the hirsute look). Bertie’s sister, Bonnie, hits it off with good fairy, Juno, but by now Bertie is too busy rescuing his mum, Flora, from the beast’s castle to notice. Charlie’s brother, the villainous Cornelius, is responsible for his beastly curse. True love will put it all to rights, with the help of magic plums, origami table decorations that are actually legal documents pertinent to the plot, adult jokes-a-plenty, some cracking songs and dollops of cream pies flung into the audience.

It’s all over the top, but the cast perform with a restraint that allows the clever witticisms to land perfectly alongside the obvious jokes. The songs are sassy – hilariously warped Disney pastiches – while the dialogue is strewn with filmic and theatre references, many of which may be missed; but don’t worry – there’s plenty to go round. And it’s a joy to watch the exuberant camaraderie spread among the cast. Matt Kennedy plays Bertie with a wide-eyed innocence – like a children’s television presenter who lets his scandalous side slip once the cameras stop rolling. Laura Anna-Mead, as his sapphic sister, is a cheeky wee lass that Dani Mirels’ Juno understandably finds irresistible. Chris Lane is all moustachioed villainy as the baddie Cornelius and Keanu Adolphus Johnson’s beast is an unexpected heartthrob. Many in the audience might wonder why Bertie would want to reverse the curse on this dashing castle-dweller. At the heart of the show is Matthew Baldwin as Flora. The epitome of the ‘dame’, Baldwin is ‘extraordinaire’; holding the audience in the palm of his hands with a seasoned ease, while sporting some delightfully outlandish costumes (designer Robert Draper provides the sartorial icing on the cake).

Billed as a queer pantomime, it out spins its classification. The irreverence and humour is obviously targeted, but the unashamedly adult humour is universal. The theatre company, ‘He’s Behind You’, are behind this show and it has the balance spot on. Anybody can in indulge in the mischievous magic. Well – almost anybody. This ‘horny love story’ is not what you’d call a family show. But it welcomes you into its own naughty little ménage. Gorgeously gay – whatever dictionary you’re using to define the word.

SUPERSONIC MAN

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★★

“entertains with a heartwarming tale of courage in the face of adversity”

Just to get a couple of things out of the way to begin with. The title of Chris Burgess’ new musical, “Supersonic Man”, is misleading. So is the Marvel comic styled publicity artwork. Oh, and also the backdrop of David Shields’ set that depicts an over-sized ‘Greetings from Brighton’ postcard. None of this does remotely does what it says on the tin. Whether intentional or not, that is in fact a blessing. If you ignore the packaging and leave behind any preconceptions you might have, you are in for a real treat.

The ‘supersonic man’ in question is a young chap called Adam (Dylan Aiello), living a charmed life with his partner Darryl (Dominic Sullivan) in Brighton, surrounded by good chums Shaz (Mali Wen Davies), Ruth (Jude St. James) and Ben (James Lowrie). It has a feel of the ‘Friends’ sitcom about it, but this dissipates as it morphs through other genres and influences. This chameleon quality is a reflection of the writing. We think it is going to be a biographical account of the real-life character, Peter Scott-Morgan, whose battle with motor neurone disease was famously chronicled in the TV documentary ‘Peter: The Human Cyborg’. But, as Burgess has said, his musical is ‘loosely inspired by’, rather than ‘based on’, Scott-Morgan’s story and consequently reveals more about the human spirit in general.

And spirit is something this musical has in spades. Burgess isn’t afraid to give the serious subject matter a camp, glossy and comedic veneer. One that makes us laugh and tap our feet along to the catchy numbers, but one that doesn’t conceal the message either. Adam and Darryl’s life together is shattered when Adam is diagnosed with the disease. The short and long-term reactions are portrayed with integrity and without sentimentality. Aiello manages to mix the strength of Adam’s resolve to fight with a confused and lost anger that just wants to lash out. Sullivan’s Darryl is the force that keeps him going, along with Davies’ brilliant, no-nonsense Shaz, St. James’ solidly empowering Ruth and Lowrie’s cheerfully mocking yet motivating Ben. Yes, the focus is on Adam, but this is a close-knit ensemble. With a fair bit of multi-rolling thrown in.

The share of the songs is equally democratic, although Sullivan does seem to have been dealt the best hand here. His number, ‘The Life We Live’, is a keenly observed and moving ballad, with a touch of Barry Manilow’s ‘Could it be Magic’. That could well sound like an insult, but in context it is actually a huge compliment. (Oh – a quick note: in the absence of a song list, I’m giving the numbers my own titles… apologies to Burgess in advance if they are misnamed). Later, ‘Give Me A Voice’ is a gem steeped in metaphor and double meaning. The cast may not have the strongest voices, but they do capture the energy and character of Burgess’ lyrics.

Already a successful author and expert in robotics, Peter Scott-Morgan embraced every technology going in order to fight the progression of his disease, using himself as a test subject to help the cause of others with extreme disability. The Channel 4 documentary celebrated the story. Burgess, however, uses the parallel to expose the media’s cynicism. A domestic argument caught on camera is described as ‘TV gold’. One-liners pepper the text that on the surface are throwaways but, on closer inspection, shield a wealth of meaning. ‘I am in denial of being in denial’ quips Adam. ‘Jesus loves you’ he is told, to which he wryly replies, ‘tell him he’s not my type’. As the show progresses, the comedy gives way to poignancy. ‘I want you to be my lover, not my carer’. The show also drifts away from reality into dreamscape, reminiscent of the Bob Fosse ‘All That Jazz’ biopic. While Adam lies on the operating table, we witness his thoughts and dreams during a surreal, out of body sequence.

Richard Lambert’s atmospheric lighting constantly adapts to the varying sequences of the show, while musical director Aaron Clingham’s arrangements suit the mood of each number. Some of the musical staging is a bit repetitive and overall, the show does have rough edges. An epilogue feels like an afterthought, but it is still deeply moving, and the show is truly celebratory. We have spent the best part of two hours laughing (sometimes guiltily) and enjoying some catchy tunes. We have also been surreptitiously given a lesson. Sly, eh? Still, they say the best way to get people to listen is to entertain them. “Supersonic Man” definitely entertains with a heartwarming tale of courage in the face of adversity, with a powerfully honest love story running through it.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST: A HORNY LOVE STORY

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“it’s a joy to watch the exuberant camaraderie spread among the cast”

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST: A HORNY LOVE STORY

Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 4th December 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Gregson

Most recent shows reviewed at this venue:

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

SUPERSONIC MAN

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★★

“entertains with a heartwarming tale of courage in the face of adversity”

SUPERSONIC MAN

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 11th April 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Louis Burgess

Previously reviewed at this venue:

SUPERSONIC MAN

SUPERSONIC MAN

SUPERSONIC MAN

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