★★★

“Dan Buckley’s Dionysos and Kevin McHale’s Xanthias make a wonderful double act”

“The Frogs” – the musical ‘freely’ adapted by Stephen Sondheim and Burt Shevelove from the ancient Greek comedy by Aristophanes – opens with a paradox. The time is the present and the place is Ancient Greece. This tells us that the writers have given themselves license to tweak (to put it politely) the original for a modern audience. The central premise, however, needs little updating: Aristophanes used his play – at a time of crisis – as a biting satire of politics and religion, bemoaning the corruption inherent in society’s leaders and calling for the rejection of the status quo. Two-and-a-half-thousand years on we can pretty much still relate to that. What the writers have done is sprinkle it with contemporary references, added a fair dose of Sondheim’s inimitable music and lyrics and, with the help of Nathan Lane (‘even more freely’ adapted) dished up a couple of hours of mind-bogglingly, zany and funny – but inconsistent – musical theatre.

The title is a touch misleading. Yes, there are frogs. Frogs that populate the River Styx (of course!) and close Act One with a droll and incisive choral number; but beyond that they barely make an appearance. What “The Frogs” focuses on is the epic journey of Dionysos and his slave Xanthias into the Underworld and back in a bid to put the world to rights. Dionysos believes only art can save civilisation but contemporary dramatists aren’t up to scratch, so he decides ‘to go to Hell and back’ (this particular joke is milked for all its worth) to bring George Bernard Shaw back from the dead. He finds Shakespeare down there, constantly at loggerheads with Shaw. The two of them end up fighting it out in a linguistic dual, competing to see which one Dionysos will choose to accompany him back to the land of the living.

The journey is a bit of a meandering rollercoaster. Or rather log-flume, or water-chute. Although mercifully no water tanks have been employed to create a realistic representation of the Styx. Instead, Samuel Biondolillo’s evocative lighting, and Libby Todd’s clever breakaway set depict the worlds we travel through. Dan Buckley’s Dionysos and Kevin McHale’s Xanthias make a wonderful double act. They don’t break the fourth wall, they just take it for granted there isn’t one – which makes their on-stage chemistry and affectionate rivalry as master and slave, even more of a delight to be immersed in. They draw us into the story with ease, and we are willing accomplices. Joaquin Pedro Valdes is having great fun as the ab-flexing Herakles. Carl Patrick’s boatman Charon ups the fun stakes, veering dangerously close to indulgent, but Georgie Rankcom’s strong directorial hand keeps the cast firmly in check, possibly with the exception of Victoria Scone, as Pluto, who brings her Drag Race persona crashing onto the stage with the confidence of a fully-fledged Goddess. (Scone plays Pluto only until 31st May, after which a rota of other performers takes a week each).

The comedy’s sharpness is honed during the later stages of the show, when Bart Lambert’s Shakespeare and Martha Pothen’s Bernard Shaw tackle each other with words like drunkards brawling with bottles. Lambert’s and Pothen’s comic timing and grasp of their respective character’s linguistic styles is extraordinary and the humour, whilst more subtle, becomes increasingly satisfying the more it ditches its pantomime pizzazz.

More of a play with music than a musical, “The Frogs” is full of anachronisms and topical updates that bring the message closer to a contemporary audience. Even closer than the musical’s 1970s premiere, with references to influencers and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ‘Bad Cinderella’ – among many others. This does add to the already heady mix of styles that can be a bit alienating, and the pointed political commentary (‘you get the leader you deserve’ for example) is a touch blunt and predictable. But there is no denying the sheer sense of fun, anarchy and silliness. Definitely worth hopping along to.

ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★★

“The thrill is in the spectacle and the sheer acrobatic virtuosity of the dancers”

We first see the eponymous heroine, in Jasmin Vardimon’s dance interpretation of Lewis Carroll’s nineteenth century classic children’s novel, as a chalk animation shifting across the page of a giant book. As it reaches the edge of the page, the real-life version (Liudmila Loglisci) peeps out in wonder and trepidation before taking her first balletic steps onto the stage – or, rather, into the rabbit hole. You can understand her reticence; there is a whirlwind of activity. It appears chaotic and surreal but there is a precision to the ensemble’s movement that is a hallmark of Jasmin Vardimon MBE’s acrobatic and intense choreography.

The pages of the giant book (courtesy of Guy Bar-Amotz’ – along with Vardimon herself – inventive, slightly shabby-chic design) slowly turn, sometimes engulfing Alice, sometimes hurling her into the action. The show is split into six chapters, each representing a sequence from Carroll’s fiction, and each being a formative rite of passage for the malleable young girl. The overriding theme is that of change, particularly focusing on Alice seeking her own identity as she hits adolescence with brute force. It is an ingenious device that superimposes the fantastical elements and characters of the original story onto a very modern tale of coping with today’s socio-political minefield. Barely a word is spoken. Our understanding of the concept relies entirely on the staging, which falls into the category of physical theatre rather than dance for most of the time. It is a visual feast, accompanied by an eclectic choice of soundtrack ranging from Vivaldi to Ryuichi Sakamoto, a touch of Bach, and scratch DJ Kid Koala, among many others.

It is a touch confusing, but then that reflects the bewildering and disconcerting changes our protagonist has to go through, and how it all affects her identity. Multiple pairs of arms reach out from behind doorways, along with shadow puppet hands that paw at the evolving Alice. One of quite a few references to a predatory world, and the unwanted male attention. The message is muddied further: a part of Alice seems to enjoy this while another part is repelled. Uncertain as to which direction to turn, Alice splits into seven copies of herself as the cast dance in unison to Smokie’s much parodied, seventies hit ‘Living Next Door to Alice’.

These welcome moments of light comedy puncture the over-surreal whimsical commentary, and Vardimon works the humour into the piece with ease, so that scenes that depict physical abuse or domestic violence give way to the pleasures that can be derived from turning into an adult. Imagery and metaphor give us the inner workings of Alice’s mind while striking visual projections and scenery create the world she has stumbled into. The Cheshire Cat, a vaping caterpillar, the Mad Hatter, the Queen of Hearts, are all there. Even Tweedledum and Tweedledee make an appearance, wandering from ‘Through the Looking-Glass’ into this wonderland of dance and music.

There is little emotional connection. The thrill is in the spectacle and the sheer acrobatic virtuosity of the dancers. It is often impossible to believe there are only seven in the cast. There are elements of the work of Aurélia Thiérrée, or the acclaimed performance company ‘1927’. However, comparisons do Vardimon an injustice. She is in a world – and a class – of her own, combining theatre and dance in a unique way to tell the story. Not only do we see the ways in which the world she enters changes Alice, but Vardimon also shows the ways in which the world reacts to her metamorphosis. Beautifully dreamlike and unusual, marred slightly by the jarring, yet fleeting, use of literal placards drawing focus on the issues of immigration. The message would be better served among the many others that are subtly woven into the fabric of the piece.

As Alice steps back into her two-dimensional form in the pages of the book, we come full circle. We are not sure whether Alice has escaped Wonderland unchanged or awakened. A twist in the fate of the hookah-smoking (vaping in this scenario) caterpillar gives us a clue. Clues are all we seem to get in Vardimon’s interpretation of Alice in Wonderland. But we have a wonderful time not solving them. Alice couldn’t explain herself “because I am not myself, you see”. This is a show that can be watched, without being explained, simply due to the astonishing choreography performed by masters of their craft.

THE FROGS

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★

“Dan Buckley’s Dionysos and Kevin McHale’s Xanthias make a wonderful double act”

THE FROGS

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 27th May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Pamela Raith

Last ten shows reviewed at Southwark Playhouse venues:

THE FROGS

THE FROGS

THE FROGS

ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★★

“The thrill is in the spectacle and the sheer acrobatic virtuosity of the dancers”

ALiCE

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Tristram Kenton

Last ten shows reviewed at Sadler’s Wells venues:

ALiCE

ALiCE

ALiCE

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