Dreadful. Absolutely effing dreadful. A terrible script, barely coherent to even those of us familiar with the story, and full of unnecessary “we must find something for the chorus to do” sections. Dire, uninspired, unimaginative choreography by Robin Cousins. Unimaginative costumes and some truly horrendous wigs. BAD music – there are only so many times one can reprise “Reach for the Stars” before it becomes irritating, even for S Club 7 fans (Im sure there are still some). Lugubrious narration in the forced “Hewwo, kiddiwinkies! Isn’t dis wuvvley!” style – which fools nobody, particularly not sassy and streetwise kids - by Smiley Smiley Carole Smiley. Dreadful voice-overs by Bonnie Langford (as the Oldest Wendy In Town) and Brian Blessed (reprising his famous “Play Every Part As Brian Blessed” role). Tinkerbell dressed in a ghastly red costume wearing a red fright wig that made her look like Ruby Wax crossed with Cleo Rocos (from Hot Gossip). Extra special touch – red sparkly top hat perched at a “jaunty angle”. (In the famous “Clap your hands if you believe in fairies to save Tinkerbell from dying” scene, I gladly and willingly withheld my applause just to be rid of the talentless old cow). Extremely badly staged aerial fight scene at the end between Pan and Hook – most of which was obscured by the sails of the “Jolly Roger”. Couldn’t get home fast enough.
Couple of good points – dance of Tiger Lily and the Indian Brave (obviously the “Spesh Act” – the choreography of this put all the rest to shame and showed up just how bad the rest of it was). Cute little Peter Pan, ideally cast and with a costume that showed off his flat stomach and pert butt to perfection – would certainly not have minded giving him a Jolly Roger, even if he was French.
Tickets for this crock of shit would normally have been £27.50 each. If we’d paid that, I would have been pig sick, and probably would have lugged half a dozen of the seats home in an attempt to get some value for money out of the evening. As it was, we paid £5.50 each and I still feel ripped off.
But it wasn’t an entirely wasted evening – I found a plastic-wrapped cucumber on the path on the walk back to the bus stop, which I will slice up and put in my sandwiches next week. And that, dear readers, was the high point of the evening.
Couple of good points – dance of Tiger Lily and the Indian Brave (obviously the “Spesh Act” – the choreography of this put all the rest to shame and showed up just how bad the rest of it was). Cute little Peter Pan, ideally cast and with a costume that showed off his flat stomach and pert butt to perfection – would certainly not have minded giving him a Jolly Roger, even if he was French.
Tickets for this crock of shit would normally have been £27.50 each. If we’d paid that, I would have been pig sick, and probably would have lugged half a dozen of the seats home in an attempt to get some value for money out of the evening. As it was, we paid £5.50 each and I still feel ripped off.
But it wasn’t an entirely wasted evening – I found a plastic-wrapped cucumber on the path on the walk back to the bus stop, which I will slice up and put in my sandwiches next week. And that, dear readers, was the high point of the evening.
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