FAWLTY TOWERS THE PLAY

Apollo Theatre

★★★★

“the stage becomes a compressed farce machine – a pressure cooker of mounting chaos”

Reviving a show as beloved as Fawlty Towers for the stage is a feat fraught with danger. With just 12 original episodes broadcast in the 1970s, the sitcom has long enjoyed legendary status. So, how do you take something that is perfect in its own right, wrap it in theatrical garb, and not break it in the process?

The answer, it seems, is by doubling down on what people already adore. Director Caroline Jay Ranger’s slick, affectionate production at the Apollo Theatre does little to reimagine the world of Torquay’s most dysfunctional hotel, but it does an impeccable job of reanimating it.

This is not so much a reinvention as a meticulous act of resurrection. The script, overseen by John Cleese himself, splices together three of the series’ most memorable episodes – The Germans, The Hotel Inspectors, and Communication Problems – into a 90-minute parade of familiar gags, lovingly preserved and expertly timed.

This is a jukebox comedy, playing the greatest hits for the faithful:

Don’t mention the war. Check.

I know nothing. Check.

May I ask what you expected to see out of a Torquay hotel bedroom window? Check.

There’s enormous pleasure in watching Danny Bayne goose-step and rage his way into Basil Fawlty’s frustrated shoes. His performance is an astonishing feat of mimicry, down to the clipped vowels and furious flailing limbs, provoking cheers not just for the comedy but for the uncanny likeness to Cleese himself.

The supporting cast are similarly faithful to their television forebears. Mia Austen is spookily accurate as Sybil, her grating laugh and imperious glare brilliantly intact. Joanne Clifton channels Connie Booth’s Polly with quiet efficiency, while Hemi Yeroham turns in a wink-to-the-crowd Manuel. Paul Nicholas, meanwhile, gently steals his scenes as the absent-minded Major with a twinkle in the eye.

Designer Liz Ascroft deserves special praise for conjuring the hotel’s multiple settings within a single, beautifully retro set, even allowing for an exterior view of that classic black and white hotel façade (and sign). With cleverly arranged spaces for reception, dining room and guest quarters, the stage becomes a compressed farce machine – a pressure cooker of mounting chaos.

And indeed, the play’s structure, while episodic, leans into the genre’s strengths. The escalating misunderstandings, linguistic blunders and slapstick near-disasters all translate well to live performance. Few comedies have ever lent themselves so easily to farce.

While the adaptation’s loyalty is its triumph, it is also its limit. By mining the original show for greatest hits, the production struggles to establish its own momentum. Lines have been trimmed or lightly updated, but the framework remains largely untouched. The jokes are still funny – often hilariously so – but they’re jokes we already know. The audience laughs with a sense of shared affection.

People – giddy with glee – were applauding in recognition of an iconic line, character, or episode long before they duly arrived.

There’s no denying the sheer craft and zest on display. Ranger and her cast have pulled off a tricky balancing act, creating a stage experience that honours its source without sinking into lazy pastiche. It doesn’t reimagine Fawlty Towers for a new generation, because it doesn’t have to (and maybe the xenophobic tendencies make the material too problematic to try).

It simply invites us back, to laugh, remember, and marvel at the little slice of perfection John Cleese and Connie Booth carved into the very English comic canon.