Return To The Forbidden Planet
New Wimbledon Theatre
24 March 2015
3 Stars
What are the chances of two of the musicals which vied for the Olivier Award for Best Musical 25 years ago both having significant professional revivals in 2015? Small, possibly infinitesimal? The nominees in 1990 were Miss Saigon, The Baker’s Wife, Buddy and Return To The Forbidden Planet. It was a curious year for the Olivier Awards as that year productions over both 1989 and 1990 were honoured in the one ceremony. Miss Saigon did not win. The passage of time makes that result seem more surprising now than it perhaps did then.
Now playing at the New Wimbledon Theatre, as part of its UK tour, is the Queen’s Theatre, Hornchurch 25th Anniversary revival of Bob Carlton’s Return To The Forbidden Planet, a work the author/director suggests is “an alchemical combination of the Shakespearean language, the 1950s science fiction spoofing…(and)…the good old-fashioned, toe-tapping Rock’n’Roll soundtrack.” Whether it was that unique, and unlikely, combination of ingredients which led Return To The Forbidden Planet to Olivier Awards success in 1990, or the then quite novel notion of actor musicians playing instruments live onstage as well as singing and acting, or simply the phenomenal energy and exuberance of that original production, cannot now be determined with any certainty.
But what is certain is that the current touring production is not a revival in the sense that the production of Miss Saigon now playing at the Prince Edward Theatre is; it is more a remount of the original. At least, so it seems. It does not appear to have been updated or rethought in any significant way, and if it has, no attention is drawn to that.
Rather, the feeling in the auditorium is one of cosy familiarity. It’s a completely silly story, complete with silly costumes, that shamelessly bastardises Shakespeare’s words in a goofy, nerdy Sci-Fi way while banging out Hit Parade tunes loudly and wholeheartedly. Depending on your own perspective, it can be heaven or hell to watch.
The Shakespeare part of it is curious. On the one hand, there is the joy of identifying the quotes or mis-quotes (“To Beep or not to Beep” is a crowd favourite); on the other, only rarely does anyone give full or even scant attention to the beauty and possibility that language offers. The exception is Mark Newnham’s Cookie.Newnham knows how to use the colour in Shakespeare’s verse and prose, and is unafraid to utilise proper technique even in the admitted absurd excesses of this parodical work. When Newnham is in full flight, you can see, clearly, the high point the show could easily reach if his cast members were equally versed (so to speak) in the ways of the Bard.
The Science Fiction idiocy provides a great potential for fun. The monsters encountered along the way pay their own homage to Doctor Who (echoes of the Tom Baker stories The Invisible Enemy and The Power Of Kroll are clear enough and quite funny) as does the audience participation routine based on the concept of “reversing the polarity”, which must have been funnier when this show first premiered and the memory of Jon Pertwee’s Doctor was still fresh and well-loved.
The costumes evoke any number of B Grade Sci-Fi films and television series and firmly cloak proceedings in a sense of nostalgia, the notion of simpler times. The sound-effects and weapons are twee and therefore great fun in this context. The robotic Ariel is like a cross between an old fashioned Cyberman, the Crush-Kill-Destroy Android from Lost In Space and a spacesuit kitted Ken Doll; again, twee but great fun.
But far and away the Force here, to take a different Sci-Fi allusion, lies in the choice of music to punctuate or propel what passes as a plot. It is a jukebox full of lively hit after hit just some of which are Great Balls of Fire, Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood, Good Vibrations, Young Girl, She’s Not There, All Shook Up, Shake Rattle and Roll, Monster Mash and I Heard It Through The Grapevine. There is something undeniably joyful about huge hits like these been played and sung live; the bop-along feeling is almost irresistible.
But here’s the rub. Time has moved on since Return To The Forbidden Planet first raised the bar in relation to the notion of the way actor musicians might invigorate stage performances. Just last week in this same venue, a troupe of gifted actor musicians performed Calamity Jane and they managed sharp performances, lively choreography and good singing with their instrument expertise. By comparison to the expectations modern theatre places on performers, the cast in this production are very firmly, one or two exceptions aside, in the “stand and deliver” camp.
The playing needs more energy, more interesting choreography and a sense of dynamic interaction between instrument, text and performance. Again, Mark Newnham is the leader of the pack here – his Cookie is properly charged and he uses his whole body to give expression to the musical and dramatic extremes of his character. His eyes and expressive face constantly squeeze value out of the material.
But many of the others are too lukewarm in their assault on the material. Sean Needham’s Captain Tempest is particularly lifeless when there is no need for that, and his singing is almost terminally deadpan. Joseph Mann is quirky and interesting as Ariel and Sarah Scowen channels her intergalactic Sandra Dee to some effect as Miranda but both, as well as most of the cast, could do with more focussed energy; the roles here require exuberance, and commitment that is off the scale. Rather like Cats, this is an all or nothing theatrical piece – mediocre or medium effort will not suffice. It needs full throttle engines at all times.
As the curious, slightly manic but very peculiar Dr Prospero, Jonathan Markwood is more mild Willy Wonka meets H G Wells meets Mr Hyde than anything else. His strange semi-Victorian showman attire sits curiously well amongst the sea of space patrol silver and Markwood certainly understands the need to be “odd”. But it is a bucket half full performance and you feel sure that there is a much more energised, more manic, more satisfying performance within Markwood’s grasp, waiting to be unleashed.
Queen’s Brian May provides light relief as a Narrator/Chorus of sorts and there are some bad jokes nicely delivered by Steve Simmonds’ feisty Bosun Arras. And the sound generated by the on stage instruments is as expectedly demented and loud as one might hope.
More than anything else, this production of Return To The Forbidden Planet demonstrates the likely reality that a new, fresh production team, willing to re-examine the piece and find new, invigorating ways to enliven it is probably what this show needs. If wafer-thin excuses for pounding out mega-hits from the 50s and 60s is your thing, this is the show for you.
