Spamalot

What an interesting evening at the theatre this turned out to be. ‘Spamalot’ is based on the work of the Monty Python gang (based primarily around the Holy Grail film from 1975) with the book and lyrics provided by Python member Eric Idle, with musical help from John Du Prez. I imagine the intention behind the show is to spoof the conventions of the musical genre and to provide a madcap comical romp which ticks off all the wacky and wonderful Python tropes along the way. Unfortunately, for a committed ophidiophobe such as myself, the show is one long supercilious, simple minded, humourless sneer and it’s one joke wears thin in minutes. Two hours enduring the noisy tyranny of enforced ‘zaniness’ was, for me, almost impossible to bear. In the same way that there are people who can’t hear the opening bars of any piece of G&S without fleeing in terror from the auditorium and those for whom the very mention of the word ‘Sondheim’ sends shivers of fear and loathing down the spine, my recurring nightmare is that of being trapped in a lift with a handful of Monty Python fans, each of them sniggering as they recite choice moments from the supposedly ‘surreal’ and ‘groundbreaking’ work of the Pythons into eternity. Those of you who are now purple faced with rage and shouting at your computer screen in disgust that it is merely the place of a lowly NODA representative to judge the production, not the show itself and to keep my own silly opinions to myself, I have only this to say: you’re quite right. Having got that off my chest however, let us now proceed with the show report proper and in the spirit of attempting to go with the flow, let me just say ‘And Now for Something Completely Different’...

The peerless Jill Harrison started the show off in the first of her many guises of the evening, giving the audience a brief potted history before a musical fish slapping episode (what else?!) gave the ensemble a colourful musical routine with which to kick off the show in some style. It isn’t long before we’re introduced to King Arthur himself - played with a good deal of style and panache by Darren Williams - and his trusty sidekick, Patsy. Charis Deighton gave what was for me the standout performance of the show; charming, sympathetic and humorous - and despite being saddled with the onerous task of starting off the dreary and tediously overdone little ditty ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’ in Act Two - Charis was a tonic. As Arthur rounds up his merry band of knights for his grail quest, we are introduced to a colourful cast of characters, each as wildly over the top as is necessary for an entertainment of this sort. 

The first cab off the rank - so to speak - was the cowardly Sir Robin as played by Sam Crabtree, busily discovered collecting dead bodies. Sam is a very capable performer who can turn his hand to anything and always shines in a production of any sort so we were lucky to have a performer of some ability who was able to breathe life into the character. The fiendish Sir Lancelot saw a triumphant return to the Hippodrome stage of Simon Jackson who also played a number of other roles in the show - and rather well too it has to be said. Simon’s absence from the stage in Colne has obviously been spent in expunging all traces of his tendency towards excessive vibrato which came as a most pleasant surprise. ‘Spamalot’ was very much ‘Simon’s show’ as he did a superb job in his many guises: the rumbustious Sir Lancelot; the spiteful French Taunter; the mischievous Knight of Ni.... A catalogue of memorable characters, each one carefully delineated and a testament to his versatility.

Another performer of some ability also appearing in various guises throughout this not especially comical romp was Josh Hindle, giving a tremendously acrobatic flourish to the character of Not Dead Fred and just the right amount of simpering camp to Prince Herbert. The doubling up of performers playing multiple roles was very well done in this production, with a skilfully selected number of performers excelling in their various guises. The aforementioned Jill Harrison excelled as a very forthright Mrs Galahad and was also a delight as the leading Minstrel; the always reliable David Smith was a solid presence throughout the show in a number of roles; Ken Horsfield was a breath of fresh air as the very Northern father of the effete Sir Herbert amongst his other appearances on stage - his brief time on stage as the shire of Swamp Castle came as something of a tonic; Chris Clarke really threw himself into proceedings on his every appearance, particularly as a very enthusiastic minstrel with some lovely moves thrown in for good measure... The list goes on. Matt Whatley was a tremendously forthright Sir Galahad (and also popped up as the Black Knight) and Blue Blezard made a very energetic Sir Bedevere, complete with an unforgettable speech impediment. 

The Lady of the Lake is blessed with the opportunity to appear in both of the only songs in the show which are worth hearing twice, ‘The Song that Goes Like This’ and ‘Whatever Happened to my Part?’ and fortunately, we were in the safe hands of the wonderful Jade Brett who brought a strength and power to the vocals, doing more than justice to both numbers. Jade was a great asset to the show in her role as Lady of the Lake and stormed through proceedings with her customary elan. Her Laker Girls were also in fine form in their numerous appearances and the ensemble as a whole gave a very good account of themselves when called upon to do so. There was a palpable feeling of a society really enjoying themselves on stage all evening and when the audience can feed off that enthusiasm - as they did here - a successful entertainment is guaranteed for both parties.

Perhaps the real ‘star of the show’ was the sumptuous set which looked a million dollars (and probably set the society back a few quid into the bargain) and the clever props and costumes which complemented it. Lending a professional edge to the production, the overall ‘look’ of the show was hard to beat, with a nifty Trojan Rabbit (don’t ask), a smaller killer rabbit (expertly worked by the aforementioned Chris Clarke), a limbless knight - again, very well worked and conceived - and the frequent appearance of a brace of smoke machines all adding to the jollity. Lighting was of a very high standard and really brought the stage to life, particularly when summoning up the Lady of the Lake and in the impressively choreographed ensemble numbers. The staging, scenery, costumes, wigs, props and technical work across the board was first class in every way. 

Paradoxically however, the production’s many assets were to a large degree the bright light which shone on ‘Spamalot’s many shortcomings. When a very talented and undoubtedly enthusiastic cast are having a high old time with the material, a regrettably ‘pantomime’ feeling - that those on stage are enjoying themselves far more than the audience could ever hope to do - seeps into the auditorium to a baleful degree. The show’s one and only joke - using the conventions of the Broadway musical to send up the nature of Broadway musicals in a studiously and comically self consciously clunky fashion - becomes tiresome almost immediately and actually, becomes almost frustrating with repetition. Knowingly humorous ‘bad’ rhymes abound, along with sardonic send-ups of generic theatrical tropes, which are admittedly chucklesome once or twice but become truly deadening to the soul after the fourteenth or fifteenth time of hearing. ‘The Song that Goes Like This’ and ‘Whatever Happened to my Part?’ are both clever and witty tunes but work much better and make their point far more humorously when extracted from the show as stand alone pieces in a concert or revue; in ‘Spamalot’, they get lost in the melée of chuntering one-note nonsense which surround them. Most of ‘Spamalot’s targets have already been skewered far more effectively by other shows: to give just one example, ‘Jerry Springer the Opera’ has its dancing Ku Klux Klan kick-line, ‘The Producers’ has showy Nazis goose-stepping marvellously; ‘Spamalot’ is very late to the party with it’s all singing and all dancing Jews and has far less to say about its subject matter, other than to remind the viewer of other shows which have made the same point with far more wit and intelligence. In fact as the show progressed, the reminders of other - and better - cultural offerings being offered up fell over themselves one after the other, the exercise becoming depressing in the extreme.

All of that said, there were many things to take away from this production which made a virtue of the show’s inherent shortcomings. Performances were of a top drawer standard across the board and Howard Raw had obviously inspired his fine cast to give of their best with clear sighted and insightful direction. There were many points in the production where a clear directorial vision helped to steer the evening in the right direction and if on occasion the humour was in danger of becoming laboured, I think my predisposition against the material was to blame, as the rest of the audience thoroughly enjoyed themselves from start to finish. Where things went wrong on stage - one thinks of a couple of technical hitches, chief among them Peter Hampson’s unfortunate entanglement as the Enchanter - they were most effectively dealt with by the quick thinking of the cast and became part of the character of the evening’s entertainment rather than a drawback: Peter’s turn as Tim the Enchanter was an unintentional delight as a result. The bright and breezy production looked good from start to finish and was peppered with memorable moments which proved that the talented members of the society can put a shine on even the dullest material. 

My thanks go to all at the Hippodrome for a tremendously warm welcome and for providing an evening of music and humour which was exceedingly well put together. I’m aware I’ve been rather miserable about much of the content of the show in this write-up but there’s no denying the level of commitment and ability which was on display in the production of it: Howard and his cast are to be congratulated for presenting an entertainment of some quality. In the spirit of the show however, I will leave you with this parting shot fired in your general direction: as those awful Frenchies say, chacun a son gout.

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