| Always Look on the Bright Side of Life |
Spamalot |
| Ambassador Theatre Group & Bill Kenwright , Swansea Grand Theatre , February 17, 2011 |
“Spamalot” is made up of three distinct parts. Spoken scenes are lifted straight from the 1975 “Holy Grail…” film. That film has cult status and the theatre atmosphere is similar to those nun-filled late night karaoke “Sound of Music” showings. A French flag is run up a pole on a castle tower. Before a word is spoken or a character appears, an audible ripple of anticipation runs through the auditorium. Indeed the French soldiers throw abuse, blow raspberries and fart wholesale over the battlements.Similarly, a wild-haired Scot has only to appear on a rock stage rear and a whisper goes up “Tim, the Enchanter.” A textual expert next to me hears the line “shat his pants instead” and tells me this is a twenty-first century update on “turned his tail and fled.” Much of this dialogue, to which the audience has gathered to pay homage, is still funny. An early scene in which peasants question the right of Arthur to reign over their “autonomous collective” has dated. The procedural obfuscation and “I’m all Right, Jack” committee-speak has lost freshness. On the other hand Arthur has a dialogue with God. “That’s a good idea./ Of course, it’s a good idea, I’m God , you stupid tit.” As Robin asks “How come, if God is all-knowing, that he’s lost the Grail anyhow?” Pythonisms abound. Sir (“whoops sorr-eee”) Not-appearing-in-This-Show promptly belts off-stage. A voice-over invites viewers to tweet, make calls, film whatever they fancy. At this level “Spamalot” comes closest to those tribute band gigs where fidelity to the original is the yardstick of quality. Director Christopher Luscombe has a genuine dilemma, whether to let his cast be themselves or be mimics. The characterisation is not always successful. But “Spamalot” is also a musical and the music (John Du Prez and Eric Idle) is very successful. The seventeen numbers, a few familiar, the bulk new are funny, parodic, witty, from the nimbly choreographed “Fisch Schlapping Song” on. (“I said England, not Finland!”) Comic rhymes abound- “blighty land/ “mighty land”. After “now” and “how” Dennis aka Sir Galahad sings “Oh, wow”. A nun runs on with a pram merely to sing “I have to push a pram a lot.” Graham MacDuff's Sir Lancelot ends up in spangly pants because his name dictates he likes to “dance a lot” and “prance a lot.” The third element towards the end brings in some pantomime elements of topical jokes, localism and audience participation. The writing here lacks sharpness (“Simon Cowell, a pain in the bowel”). The delivery is lacking in conviction and the references to Swansea lack warmth. I won't reveal the seat number to be avoided. Sadly, the casting of Phill Jupitus as King Arthur represents a real dilemma for theatre. Faces from the small screen sell tickets but frequently they need to be carried by more experienced stage performers. (Just this week a newcomer has grabbed all the acting attention from the double star-laden “The Children’s Hour.”) Mr Jupitus looks ill-at-ease, even on Swansea’s not-so-large stage. A stand-up is used to his own or tailor-made dialogue; his phrasing can miss a line’s rhythm. The general bodily stiffness is not aided by large, thick-rimmed glasses; acting is not all in the eyes but if you take away hands and eyes together it does not help. Happily, the ensemble has some dynamic movers. Jessica Martin's Lady of the Lake has a big voice, a beautiful dress and gives the “Diva's Lament ” and “the Song that Goes Like This” the volume and the humour the numbers ask for. David Langham plays his unlikely lankiness to full comedic effect. Samuel Holmes, as a fringe-haired Sir Robin, is trained in both drama and dance and it shows. His “You Won't Succeed in Showbiz” has the right applause-earning dash and flair to it. “Spamalot” has colour, movement, laughter, a cast of twelve of high spirits; it has an audience both loyal and enthusiastic. In the flow of comedy, homage and parody what it lacks is a touch of emotion. Heartlessness fits a sketch, is great for satire but over two hours the absence of just a moment of heart reveals the difference between screen and stage. |
Reviewed by: Adam Somerset |
This review has been read 542 times |
