thu 05/12/2024

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Theatre Royal Drury Lane | reviews, news & interviews

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Theatre Royal Drury Lane

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Theatre Royal Drury Lane

The sweet smell of success proves disappointingly elusive in Sam Mendes' musical production based on Roald Dahl's story

Sticky moments: Douglas Hodge heads the cast as the mysterious master chocolatier Willy WonkaHelen Maybanks

It’s all stick and no lollipop, a chocolate box stuffed with nothing but empty wrappers: what a walloping letdown this intensely anticipated musical based on Roald Dahl’s perennially popular 1964 children’s book turns out to be.

With songs by Scott Wittman and Marc Shaiman – the team behind the irresistible feelgood hit Hairspray – a book by the highly respected playwright David Greig, and direction by the Donmar Warehouse founder and Oscar-winner Sam Mendes, it ought to be a giant peach. Instead, it’s as bland and sugary as cheap confectionery. And with so little to savour of Dahl’s delicious treacly darkness, it’s effortlessly kicked into orbit by Matilda and her sassy cohorts, singing and dancing up a storm of wit and wonder over at the West End's Cambridge Theatre and on Broadway.

Hodge's Wonka comes across as little more than avuncular and faintly world-weary

For a show that purports to be so starry-eyed over the potent magic of imagination, it’s clod-hoppingly literal – and nowhere is this a more serious problem than in the dismayingly dull first act. It begins with a needless cartoon by Dahl illustrator Quentin Blake, in which we are tediously introduced to the chocolate-production process. Things hardly get any more exciting when we meet our pint-sized hero, Charlie Bucket (played at the performance I saw by Jack Costello, pictured below right) picking his way through a giant rubbish heap, courtesy of designer Mark Thompson. “How do you do?” he enquires of the dubious treasures he unearths – a single glove, a broken umbrella – before trotting off to the dismal home he shares with his cheerful but impoverished parents and his four winsomely eccentric, bed-ridden grandparents. It’s tooth-rottingly sentimental.

A welcome dash of colour is delivered when Dad wheels in the erratic TV so that Charlie can follow the worldwide search for lucky Golden Ticket winners – the select few who will get the chance to enter the hallowed portal of the Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory and meet the mysterious master chocolatier himself. Appearing on the over-sized set are that victim of the childhood obesity epidemic, Augustus Gloop, a lederhosen-sporting Bavarian boy and his fond Mutti, singing along with an oompah band; Veruca Salt, a blonde mini-monster in pink tutu and tights, with her long-suffering, over-indulgent tycoon father; Violet Beauregarde the chewing-gum addict, transformed here into a ghetto-fabulous, blinged-up rapper with a fame-hungry soulman dad (Paul J Medford); and, most repellant of all, Mike Teavee, a pathologically aggressive video-gaming obsessive whose pill-popping mother is, inexplicably, a beehived Sixties housewife.

Jack Costello as Charlie in Charlie and the Chocolate FactoryIt’s not until the act one closing number, though, that we finally get our first proper glimpse of Douglas Hodge’s Willy Wonka – and even then, we don’t actually make it into the factory itself before the interval. Moustachioed and dapper in his bright top hat and tails, Hodge cuts a genial but curiously unengaging figure. Dahl’s Wonka may be enigmatic, but a dramatic portrayal demands some sense of character; Hodge comes across as little more than avuncular and faintly world-weary. It’s not a lot to suck on to see us through until the second half.

Happily, though, there are a few treats to come as Charlie and his doughty Grandpa Joe (Nigel Planer) potter through Wonka’s secret sweetie-land. Chief among these is Jamie Harrison’s puppetry, which staffs the factory with adult, full-sized Oompa-Loompas with little puppet legs. Their first entrance, singing and dancing in an eye-popping, high-kicking row poised on an industrial pipe, is the show’s highlight; also hugely appealing is the shrinking of the loathsome Mike Teavee to a tiny, shrieking action-figure in Wonka’s experimental teleporter, and the Nut Room, where a slightly menacing horde of bushy-tailed squirrels sorts out the wholesome kernels from the rotten, and at whose furry paws brattish Veruca meets her grisly end.

Yet still there are further disappointments. Thompson’s Chocolate Room, with its minty grass, candy blossoms and chocolate waterfall rippled like brunette mermaid hair, is luridly bright yet strangely flat; Jon Driscoll’s pedestrian video projections are singularly unenchanting. Wittman and Shaiman’s numbers roll flavourlessly by until they merge into a single slick butterball of inconsequentiality; and even the choreography by Peter Darling – who can usually be relied upon for terpsichorean dazzle – lacks thrills and the lift-off of sheer exuberance.

The climactic flight of the Great Glass Elevator – which, oddly, is executed to the strains of "Pure Imagination" from the 1971 film version, shoehorned in here for no very obvious reason – may well be jaw-dropping; it was malfunctioning when I attended, so I can’t judge. But even if it executed quadruple loop-the-loops over the heads of the audience, it’s unlikely that it could have fully compensated for so much that is lacklustre in what precedes it. Perhaps affection for Dahl’s story and awe at what spectacle the show offers will be enough to ensure steady business at the box office. But the sad truth is, this ain’t no golden ticket.

Comments

Sam Marlowe must have forgotten to take his/her happy pills that day!! 16 members of my family went to an evening performance of the show on 6th June - and every single member of our group was completely and utterly blown away by it. What a terrible shame that one person's completely skewed opinion - of what my (extended) family believed was one of the greatest shows we've ever seen (and between 16 of us, that covers a fair few shows) - will now no doubt influence thousands and thousands of people that read his/her article. My review would be in complete contrast to the writer's. We had a wonderful time. The show is completely magical and witty and I seriously could not recommend it highly enough.

All we can ask for is that Sam makes her case eloquently, which she certainly does. I'd like to see a parallel child's review, though: the kids I know see through hokum, cheesiness and boredom very easily. It rather begs the question whether one or two press tickets were provided - if only one, the promoters shot themselves in the foot there.

I'm shocked, to say the least, at Sam's review! I can only imagine her view was restricted and her hearing impaired. My family and I (inc. 2 young children, ages 4 & 7) thought the show was fantastic, and despite attending the late showing, both children were on the edge of their seats the whole time. As a qualified sound engineer, I found the sound, lighting, and visual effects to be totally outstanding and cutting edge! The actors too were excellent and the play well written, bringing something new to the original story. Please ignore everything that Sam has said, go see it and judge for yourself, you will not be disappointed!

Add comment

The future of Arts Journalism

 

You can stop theartsdesk.com closing!

We urgently need financing to survive. Our fundraising drive has thus far raised £33,000 but we need to reach £100,000 or we will be forced to close. Please contribute here: https://gofund.me/c3f6033d

And if you can forward this information to anyone who might assist, we’d be grateful.

Subscribe to theartsdesk.com

Thank you for continuing to read our work on theartsdesk.com. For unlimited access to every article in its entirety, including our archive of more than 15,000 pieces, we're asking for £5 per month or £40 per year. We feel it's a very good deal, and hope you do too.

To take a subscription now simply click here.

And if you're looking for that extra gift for a friend or family member, why not treat them to a theartsdesk.com gift subscription?

newsletter

Get a weekly digest of our critical highlights in your inbox each Thursday!

Simply enter your email address in the box below

View previous newsletters