★★★★

“There is a playfulness that fits the season perfectly. Like a Christmas jumper. It is great fun, but any other time of the year you could never get away with it.”

Yes, it’s that time of year again. Time for normal rules to be put on the back burner. Sparkly and ridiculous clothes are worn without embarrassment or comment, and behavioural patterns stray from the straight and narrow. Usually induced by festive merriment and alcohol, social barriers are pulled down and liaisons instigated (a polite euphemism) that would normally be questionable. It is the time that, in the grey, sober light of a January, many of us will look back on with a touch of regret.

Suffice to say, Dave Hearn, Amy Revelle and Michael Dylan, who comprise ‘Original Theatre’, will look back with befuddled amazement at their antics at the Park Theatre. But there will be no regret whatsoever, such will be the triumphant success of their seasonal yet anarchic take on H.G. Wells’ “The Time Machine”. I say success maybe prematurely – time will tell – but if there’s any justice in the world, my prediction will be right.

It is also timely. ‘Time’ is a trending topic at this moment in time. With Doctor Who’s 60th anniversary occupying our screens and far too many column inches in our media. And with ‘The Time Traveller’s Wife’ soaring into the West End. Time travel has always fascinated us – it is a weighty issue that is usually treated with reverence and intellectual respect. ‘Original Theatre’ are having none of that. Apart from making it one of the most hilarious explorations of the theory, they also bring it riotously into the realms of reality. Almost.

“The trio take us on a delightful tour in H. G. Wells’ time machine, taking liberties with wild abandon and fuelled by reckless and irreverent gags”

Dave Hearn has adopted the surname Wells, claiming to be the great great grandson of the prolific writer and social critic Herbert George Wells. He has taken it upon himself to convince us that his great great grandfather’s novel was, in fact, science fact rather than fiction. After all, he found the original, ink-stained manuscript in his aunt’s attic to prove it. What ensues is a high energy romp through plays within plays within plays (that inevitably go wrong), with much emphasis on the three main paradoxes that render time travel theoretically illogical. The tone is set from the outset. It is bold and heightened, which is a good thing as it needs the chutzpah to overcome a few clichés before it gets into its stride. The pseudo under rehearsed conceit is over-egged, while the dramatic interruptions veer close to predictability. Sometimes the subject matter is at odds with the delivery, but once the concept is fully established, the chaotic, over-the-top humour falls into place. The trio take us on a delightful tour in H. G. Wells’ time machine, taking liberties with wild abandon and fuelled by reckless and irreverent gags.

In the second act, the plot appears to be irrevocably lost, but by now we are absorbed in the personalities and the human touch. A subliminal message of friendship, loyalty and hope is glimpsed somewhere beneath the mayhem, melodrama and histrionics. Writers Steven Canny and John Nicholson have cleverly pulled the characters out of the story and seemingly left them high and dry. It is shrewdly scripted but the performances convince us of the disarray. The audience are invited to help save the show – and perhaps save a life. It could all go horribly wrong, but Orla O’Loughlin’s sprightly direction inspires reassurance, mixed with some Hitchcockian suspense and Buster Keaton style daring – courtesy too of Fred Meller’s set design.

Hearn, Revelle and Dylan have a natural ability to connect with an audience. Yes, the big questions are either glossed over or pebble-dashed into puzzlement, but such concerns are drowned out by the laughs. There is a playfulness that fits the season perfectly. Like a Christmas jumper. It is great fun, but any other time of the year you could never get away with it.

POTTED PANTO at Wilton’s Music Hall

★★★★★

“Basically, you’ve just got to see it to believe it.”

Daniel Clarkson and Jefferson Turner (thereinafter referred to as Dan and Jeff) take on the task of presenting six-and-a-half popular pantomimes in the space of eighty minutes. They’ve been doing it for some years now, so are probably getting quite adept. Just to show off, immediately after the interval they summarise the first act (a mere four pantomimes) in three minutes. ‘Potted Potted Panto’ they call it. They don’t stop there – they then recap (donning their ‘recap caps’) in one minute. Yes, you guessed: ‘Potted Potted Potted Panto’. It goes on. Until breathlessly they somehow revert to the task in hand. This is their modus operandi. They are constantly having to rein each other in, pulling themselves away from the many digressions and bizarre, surreal, outlandish embellishments they have piled thick and fast onto the traditional stories. It is a miracle that they are condensed at all, what with the sheer number of laugh-out-loud moments packed in.

Dan and Jeff are a slick duo. Vaudevillian, but a touch more risqué. Morecambe and Wise but with the more modern, anarchic chaos of Rik Mayall and Ade Edmondson. Deep down we know that this show has been rehearsed to a tee, but it feels like a rampage. One that is forever teetering on the verge of collapse. The popular titles they have chosen are ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’, ‘Dick Whittington’, ‘Snow White’, ‘Sleeping Beauty’, ‘Cinderella’ and ‘Aladdin’. Ah, yes, the ones we know and love. Except that after witnessing Dan and Jeff’s interpretation we cease to know them – but love them even more. At Dan’s insistence, ‘A Christmas Carol’ is shoehorned in (hilariously mashed up with ‘Aladdin’ – I shall say nothing!). Strictly speaking, Dickens’ Victorian classic is not a pantomime. Jeff feels the need to point this out. Neither is the Nativity. Nor the John Lewis Christmas advert, nor the Doctor Who Christmas Special.

Dan concedes. And so, the roller coaster ride begins. Caught in the cyclone of activity are dozens of costume changes that more or less keep up with the plot twists. Our perceptions of the fairy tales we grew up with are not just stretched but snapped clean in two. We are in a world where giant moose lay golden eggs and Dick Whittington conquers London in his shiny green hotpants and thigh high boots. Where fairy God-chickens wave their magic baguettes and dinosaurs wander into Sleeping Beauty’s bramble-thick garden. Where the ghost of Christmas Present is summoned from a genie’s lamp… I could go on and list every bizarre twist, joke, reference, visual pun, innuendo, satirical zeitgeist. But it would take all day. And you wouldn’t believe it anyway so there’s no such thing as a spoiler for this show. I could hand you the script word for word and you’d be none the wiser. Basically, you’ve just got to see it to believe it.

Written by the pair (along with Richard Hurst) it is, despite all evidence to the contrary, an exceedingly witty and intelligent creation. The intricate balancing act of the language and the humour aims straight for the ‘grown ups’ and the ‘little ones’ simultaneously without any confusion being whipped up in the crossfire. It is difficult to decipher who is enjoying it the most as the laughter from each generation vies for supremacy in the auditorium. Similarly, it is a joy to witness the performers having just as much of a ball as the audience. Even when they are corpsing they are in command. They don’t really need it, but aid comes intermittently in the shape of stage manager, Sammy Johnson, who adopts a couple of idiosyncratic characters of his own. And Marie-Claire Wood matches their comic flair wordlessly, before stunning us with her beautiful singing voice.

If I were to put down on paper what this show is about (oh, hang on – that’s exactly what I’m doing) I’d be wary about letting anybody read it. I don’t think it would make much sense. What would make less sense, though, would be to miss this sensational, seasonal show. Even if the show itself makes no sense. But that’s the beauty of it. ‘Tis the season to be silly. Or is it jolly? Anyway, “Potted Panto” is jolly silly. ‘Potted’ – according to the dictionary – has more than one meaning: 1. Shortened. 2. Intoxicated. Well – that says it all.

THE TIME MACHINE – A COMEDY at the Park Theatre

★★★★

“There is a playfulness that fits the season perfectly. Like a Christmas jumper. It is great fun, but any other time of the year you could never get away with it.”

“The trio take us on a delightful tour in H. G. Wells’ time machine, taking liberties with wild abandon and fuelled by reckless and irreverent gags”

THE TIME MACHINE – A COMEDY at the Park Theatre

Reviewed on 5th December 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

Reviewed this year at the Park Theatre:

The Time Machine

The Time Machine

POTTED PANTO at Wilton’s Music Hall

★★★★★

“Basically, you’ve just got to see it to believe it.”

POTTED PANTO at Wilton’s Music Hall

Reviewed on 1st December 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Geraint Lewis

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Potted Panto

Potted Panto