BEAUTY AND THE BEAST: A HORNY LOVE STORY

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“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.

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:

GET DOWN TONIGHT | ★★ | September 2025

THE DAUGHTER OF TIME | ★★★ | July 2025

BEAUTIFUL WORLD CABARETS – ALFIE FRIEDMAN | ★★★★ | July 2025

STILETTO | ★★★★ | March 2025

JACK AND THE BEANSTALK: WHAT A WHOPPER! | ★★★ | November 2024

TATTOOER | ★★★ | October 2024

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

★★

“the prophesy of doom should be more inherent in the performances rather than the dressing”

There is no denying that “White Rose: The Musical” comes to the stage with a pertinency that it may not have held when it first premiered Off-Broadway a year ago. Its powerful premise is built around a group of young activists defying an authoritarian regime – one in which rights are stolen, one by one, under a state system presided over by criminals. The setting is, however, Munich in 1943 and the musical focuses on a group of students who stood up to Hitler. They put their lives on the line as they formed the White Rose resistance movement to challenge oppression and propaganda, distributing leaflets at immense risk to themselves. There are echoes of Hans Fallada’s 1947 novel ‘Every Man Dies Alone’ (adapted into the 2016 feature film ‘Alone in Berlin’), and the complexity of the real-life narrative offers a goldmine of raw material. Brian Belding’s book chips away at the surface without really getting its hands dirty; the result being a show that lacks depth, peopled by similarly shallow characters.

At its heart are siblings Hans (Tobias Turley) and Sophie (Collette Guitart) Scholl. Hans is the overprotective brother, ashamed of his former allegiance to the Hitler Youth. Sophie spends much time resisting her brother’s safeguarding nature – until she eventually persuades him to accept and join in with her cause. The dialogue treats the whole affair like a high school romp, and we never get a sense of danger, despite shadowed, moody SS officers occasionally watching over them. A side plots involves Lila (Charley Robbie) who runs a print shop and helps with the printing of the leaflets. A young Nazi officer, Frederick Fischer (Ollie Wray) spends a lot of time with the oppositionists. Being an old schoolmate of Hans and ex-lover of Sophie’s, he also spends much time in a state of confusion, repeatedly removing and replacing his swastika armband. Such meandering motives are indicative of Belding’s book and lyrics and Natalie Brice’s music. The score belongs to another show entirely. Led by an even mix of guitar chugging, mid-tempo pop and searing ballads, it is jarringly detached from the setting and from the themes of the story. Following each number there is a palpable dip in energy, during which the dialogue never matches the passion of the singing.

Director Will Nunziata fares as well as he can with the stuttering structure of the narrative but suffers from a lack of variation in character. There is little build up to the symbolic and climactic gesture of hurling leaflets out into the audience: an act of defiance that mirrors the real life-threatening events (Hans and Sophie flung them from the balcony onto their fellow students). The horrific events the show presents are ill-served by simplistic exposition that dampens the emotional clout. The performances are solid but miss the trick of reaction. Often – particularly during the solo musical numbers – the onstage cast seem to be assessing an audition piece at the end of a long day.

Despite an overall lack of presence, we are occasionally drawn into the characters’ plight. But the hook is not strong enough for us to make the plunge. There are moments when the depth and the gravity is glimpsed, and Justin Williams’ evocative design sets the tone, depicting a ravaged Munich, along with Alex Musgrave’s suggestive lighting. But the prophesy of doom should be more inherent in the performances rather than the dressing. This story should definitely be told – it is not just a poignant reminder of the past, but an urgent alarm call that the past has a habit of repeating itself. Unlike its protagonists – the show seems unsure whether to deliver its message. Or whether to be entertainment. The two can (and do) easily co-exist, but “White Rose: The Musical” doesn’t find that harmony.

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BEAUTY AND THE BEAST: A HORNY LOVE STORY

★★★★

Charing Cross Theatre

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST: A HORNY LOVE STORY

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

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