There's an excellent article in The Stage about the growth and pain-points of immersive shows (free registration required to read).

One thing that most creators agree on is that while the word immersive remains the most accurate umbrella term, it is largely functionally meaningless. The sense is that it will have to do as there is not currently a better one. “The word ‘immersive’is one that we have to continue to own,” says Matt Costain of Secret Cinema. “Because I think the fad of calling everything immersive will pass, but it’s a broad church. I went to an immersive art exhibition and what are they supposed to call it? They have as much right to it as I have.”

The idea of an "immersive" performance is somewhat nebulous. Sitting passively in a theatre is not immersive - but what about a self-guided tour of an art gallery? You can make the case for pantomime being immersive (oh no you can't!) - but it isn't in the same league as Phantom Peak.

In an article about the immersive Elvis show, Amanda Parker succinctly describes what audience expects:

The whole point of immersive theatre is the blurring of boundaries.

Live performance is expensive. A single ticket to a 90 minute show can cost more than an entire year of Netflix. A drink before the show and an ice-cream in the interval is the same cost as a month of Disney+! Audiences want blurred boundaries, but they also want value for money. I don't think it takes much money or effort for any show to become more immersive.

Here's my 6-point guide to making any theatrical experience more immersive and more entertaining for the audience.

Pre-Pre-Show

Even before booking, there's a chance for a show to be immersive. Most shows have trailers on YouTube - but are the characters on social media? Where are the opportunities to learn about the costume designer's vision (outside a one-paragraph entry in an expensive programme)?

Once booked, there are some brilliant opportunities for pre-pre show immersion. Emails shouldn't be the usual hectoring affair of reminding people to be on time; they should build a sense of excitement. What makes the paying customer feel like they're going on an adventure?

If I remember correctly, when schools booked group tickets for the 1990s run of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat", they were sent colouring-in packs or some activity worksheets (it was a long time ago and my memory is hazy). What can a theatre do to make its paying customers excited about making the trip outside to sit in an unfamiliar building?

Pre-Show

This is probably the easiest one to get right, and the one which most shows fail at. Decorate the venue. That's it. It is that simple. It costs next to nothing to put up posters on the walls, or fun little Easter-Eggs on the back of toilet doors, or to have a themed cocktail menu. The Stranger Things show does this brilliantly - there are lots of little clues dotted around the show in the form of newspaper clippings and yearbook pages.

Shows like Just For One Day had "selfie pods". Big posters which let audience members take cool looking selfies with the stars of the show. The guest gets a fun memento, the show gets free advertising.

You can go further and have the cast play with the audience. When I saw "Cats" in New York, some of the actors were roaming the stalls - fighting, stealing licks of ice-creams, miaowing at each other. It was brilliant to watch and got the audience in the mood.

More recently, The Play That Goes Wrong has the on-stage crew setting up the stage while the audience enters. It's pre-show which rewards early attendance - it gets people rushing back to the bar to drag their friends in. It feels improvised and rewards returning guests.

You can spend time in the KitKat Club before the start of Cabaret. A seedy underbelly with bored dancers and sweaty patrons. A brilliant way immerse the audience before the show. (Although not everyone agrees.)

Operation Mincemeat has an online pub-quiz for audience members. Sit and chat about what you think the answers are, try to get on the leaderboard, see if it motivates you to learn more about the real history of the operation.

A bunch of theatres offer "Touch Tours" for visually impaired visitors. They get to come on stage and feel the set, have it described to them, so that they can get more immersed in the performance without constantly trying to guess the layout of the set. The stage magicians Penn and Teller invite members of the audience onto the stage before the performance so they can check for hidden wires and other trickery. That's probably not possible for every show - but can be sympathetically integrated into some.

Show

I'll defer this to the director! It's up to them whether they want to make use of the audience! I've been to operas where the lead performer appeared at the back of the stalls singing to his love on stage. Confetti falls into the auditorium with regular abundance.

It doesn't suit every show, of course, but there are a dozen little tweaks which can remind the audience that this is a high-quality experience worth paying for. That this is something they simply can't get by watching TV.

The Interval

The interval isn't just a chance to go for a piss and an over-priced drink. It's an opportunity to reflect on what you've seen, discuss what you think will happen, and stretch your legs.

All of the pre-show decoration is available to browse again - but is there anything else to do?

At a performance of Misalliance, a character hides himself in a portable Turkish bath at the end of Act 1. Throughout the interval, the audience were encouraged to follow the character on social media. He sent messages about his predicament and replied to people who interacted with him.

During the interval of a schools' performance of La bohème, the curtain was raised so that we could see the hard work which went into changing all the sets around. Is that suitable for every show? Probably not. Does it interfere with the fire curtain? Maybe. Was it a fascinating look literally behind the scenes? Absolutely!

Although I hated Murder Trial Tonight, it used the interval to encourage audience members to discuss the case laid before them. It's high-risk to get a reserved British audience to talk to strangers, but it can pay dividends.

Post-Show

The audience have risen to their feet in applause. Perhaps the lead actor (the one from that TV show you like) gives a short, heartfelt speech thanking everyone for coming out and encouraging them to tell their friends about the show.

What next?

Musicals often go with an encore where they specifically encourage the audience to take photos and sing along. Hey! You're part of the show! You'll probably never watch that video again, but you'll get the joy of communal singing and will feel like you're contributing.

As we left Just For One Day, we were handed commemorative leaflets which turned out to be discount vouchers. A little memento and a way to get repeat custom!

At the end of Accidental Death of an Anarchist, the audience were encourage to learn more about various historical and modern cases of police corruption by scanning QR codes projected onto the set.

Walking out of The Storeroom, we found ourselves in a lovely cocktail bar with an amazing view. Of course we paid for a fancy drink while discussing the evening's entertainment. Most West End theatres shove you out into the cold night air as though you're a guest who has overstayed their welcome.

Stage door autographs have been a thing since time immemorial. Probably a bit annoying for the actors, but a huge part of building a post-show buzz for some people. There are shows which have a paid meet-and-greet option (which feels a little icky to me).

I've been to plenty of shows which have a Q&A with the cast and director afterwards. Again, not something which can be done every night, but a brilliant opportunity to reward people for coming.

Even Shakespeare used to end his plays with a jig.

The point is, a show can do some aftercare. A little something to keep the audience happy and engaged.

Post-Post-Show

The audience has gone home. Is that the end of the experience? Sending out a survey email or asking them to share their memories on social media is a pretty cheap (and lazy) option for a show. It doesn't do much for the audience though.

What about competitions? Can a show encourage the audience to enter a prize draw. Why not offer an upgraded seat at a discount for your next visit - as a little thank you for being a customer?

It beggars belief that most shows don't offer a "come back and bring a friend" offer.

After every roller-coaster ride, the theme park attempts to sell you a photo of you and your friends screaming. What's the equivalent for a theatrical show?

This doesn't have to be a full-on marketing assault. Just a little nudge to make the audience feel special and like they'd want to repeat the experience.

Is all this really necessary?

No.

If you think people are happy to spend £150 to sit in conditions worse than the nastiest budget airline, and that they're delighted to be screamed at by over-officious security guards, then you don't need to do any of this. Leave the theatre decorated in its faded glory with faded photos of faded stars. Over-charge for the drinks, pad the programme with adverts, and hope the audience don't reflect on whether they enjoyed the experience.

I'm not saying every show needs to be Secret Cinema's Grease, but a little effort goes a long way.

Premium Netflix costs £19 per month. Find me a single ticket at the back of the gods which costs less than that! Even the last-minute seat filler shows I go to have trouble getting down to that level. Live performance cannot compete on cost-per minute. Instead, theatre has to play to its strengths.

• Live actors are there!
• It's a communal experience!
• Something unique happens every performance!
• The building is interesting!
• You can't distract yourself with your phone!
• You can show your appreciation directly!
• It's part of a night out!
• The audience is an integral part of the experience!

All theatre is immersive because you are there - with actual people in front of you. Theatre needs to capitalise on the fact that it is different to being sat at home watching the telly. And that means putting a little effort into treating the audience like valued guests rather than treating them like cattle.

Phantom Peak takes you inside an Old West mining town in a weird steam-punk alternate reality. The corrupt mayor is on the prowl, demons stalk the land, love is in the air, but can you uncover the secrets of town before it is too late!??!!

It was exceptional!

With a large cast of incredibly talented improvisers, a delightfully daft plot, and lushly decorated sets, I was tempted to just sit back and drink in the atmosphere. But there's no time to lounge around; there are puzzles to solve!

Firstly, I have to acknowledge that the playtest was nearly complete. Several of the videos were replaced with text and few of the puzzle elements had some rough edges - but that's what this sort of preview is for. We were encouraged to give feedback to the writers (nestled in a corner) and to let them know what things were confusing.

There are 10 different "trails" to complete, we just-about managed to do 4 of them. Even if you were an expert player, I think you'd struggle to do more than five, so there is some re-playability if you want to come again. The individual elements of the trails all have the same basic template:

• Speak to a person, get a clue.
• Go to a different location, use that clue, get another task.
• Watch a video or listen to some audio, get another clue.
• Scurry across to someone else and give them information.
• Interact with some of the gloriously tactile machines to get the next location.

And repeat. In truth, they aren't puzzles as much as tasks. You won't be deciphering anagrams, opening combination locks, or piecing together different things. But it is a lot of fun and, across our tasks, I think we managed to visit most rooms in the space. Every completed trail earns you tokens which you can use to help your colour-coordinated team win.

You'll need a fully charged phone as there's a useful interactive website to track your progress and enter the clues you've found. If you get stuck, there is a "help" button - or you can ask the cast who all are game and willing to help you out with tips, tricks, and witty asides (but do not ask about the pet rocks). It's all very low-stakes; you aren't going to be trapped or ostracised if you can't complete something. There's no rush, play at your own pace.

That said, Liz and I enjoyed running about between the various rooms determined to experience as much as possible. As we did, we caught sight of what the other players were doing. Everyone was happy to chat about what they were experiencing and eagerly exchanged tips & tricks. About half the testers had played a previous season, and were really enthusiastic about the experience. I'm sure there were plenty of inside jokes, but I didn't feel like I missed anything by being a newbie. There were plenty of kids and teenagers - who all seemed to be having a whale of a time. None of the storylines are too raucous or salacious for younger minds.

There were a few niggles which probably weren't the fault of the playtest. Some of the rooms can get a little crowded so you may have to watch someone else solve a different quest before you get on to your next step. The crowding can also make it difficult to hear some of the audio-only clues - although videos are subtitled. There are various heaters around the indoor parts of the experience, but it is pretty cold - so bring a coat. I suspect the outside parts work better in summer.

The "team" element didn't really work for me. We were split into groups with different wrist-band colours. Nominally, that put us in different worker groups - but that didn't have any effect on the story or trails. The tokens we won were tallied up by team - but the piles looked pretty equal to me. It might have been interesting if there was a distinct ending at the closing ceremony depending on which team was victorious. Or perhaps if there were some team-specific storyline elements. As it was, it felt a little tacked-on.

Would I go again? Adult ticket prices are between £40 & £48 each - which is excellent value for money considering it is a four-hour experience. Certainly better value for money than TaskMaster Live. There are plenty of toilets, a not-too-extortionate bar, and snacks to buy. There's a large outside section with a separate bar (which was closed for the test).

You can spend the four hours mooching about, drinking cocktails, playing at the arcade, and chatting to townsfolk. Or you can whizz about exploring graveyards, conducting matchmaking, and punching codes into terminals.

It is a lot of fun and cleverly constructed. There are plot-strands which we only caught glimpses of, but didn't get a chance to explore. There are a delightful amount of pop-culture references (some of which I had explained to me by an over-excited teenager) and a healthy amount of satire.

So, yeah, I can see us going back - although perhaps when it is a little bit warmer!

Photos and (Minor) Spoilers

One quest had me wearing these nifty glasses. I was rather sad when I had to give them up.

There are seemingly hundreds of little details about the world scattered throughout the venue.

There was a minor bit of confusion during one trail where we were asked information about "Terrence" which, coincidentally, is my name. Luckily, we cleared it up by establishing that I am not a platypus.

Some quests are slightly spooky - but most are a bit silly.

The overall texture of the world is lush.

From the moment you enter the theatre, you are having "an experience". The atmosphere created within the venue all adds up to how much you enjoy the show. Parts of that experience are usually outside the director's control - for example the number of toilets, price of drinks, or friendliness of the security staff. But so much is within the ability of the show to influence.

Let me give you a few examples.

We recently went to "Taskmaster - the live experience" - from the moment we went in, the show started. There was an art gallery of props from the show, they had recreated various sets for us to wander around, photographs were encouraged, there were hidden quests, and the atmosphere was full of fun.

Similarly, when we went to Immersive 1984, stepping through the doors took us into a new world with appropriately costumed staff, a haunting soundscape, and little bits of interaction.

If you've been to London's Cabaret at the KitKat Club, you'll know that the bars are full of entertainers and venue is designed to heighten your expectations.

The "Stranger Things" show in London is more subtle. All the artwork around the building has been replaced with thematically appropriate images. Newspaper headlines which give you some background details. Adverts for in-universe products. A dozen bits of "did you notice that?" decorating everywhere from the bar to the toilets.

Some of these are expensive to do and some are cheap. But I've been to so many shows where the attitude is "get them in early, pack them like sardines, and make them buy expensive drinks". Going to a gig at the O2 arena is a prime example - it's a bit of a soulless venue, but they could improve the pre-show by putting up some memorabilia, or asking people to do vox-pops, or offering anything to hype the crowd up after queuing for so long.

When I went to see "Spitting Image The Musical" I was expecting to see some puppets in the foyer, or some classic sketches on TV screens, or perhaps some photo-opportunities with cardboard cutouts. Instead it was "buy a drink and piss off". Grim.

As much as I enjoyed Macbeth with David Tennant and Cush Jumbo, there was very little to help build up the excitement. The mandatory headphones played some sounds to make sure they were working - but they could have given us some sonnets to listen to, or some pre-commentary by the director, or anything to liven up the tedium of waiting for a show to start.

Let's talk about the post-show experience. What happens when the cast have taken their bow and the curtain has come down?

Depressingly little.

About the only show that gets this right is "The Mousetrap". At the end, once the killer has been revealed, a cast member swears the audience to secrecy. It is a cute little tradition and sets the audience off into the night feeling a bit special.

Lots of musicals and gigs will do a (prepared) encore. We know it's coming, they know we know, but we still pretend it is a little extra treat for us being such a good audience.

A few shows, like Doctor Who Time Fracture and the aforementioned Taskmaster, have you exit through the gift-shop. Perhaps it is a little tacky. But it can be fun to see what tchotchkes are available.

If you go to a preview performance, you might get a survey immediately after the show or emailed to you a little later. It can be fun to reflect on the experience and it is useful for a production to know what an audience thought of it.

Some shows will do a Q&A with the director and cast. We went to a delightful one with the cast of "Peter Pan Goes Wrong" - only a few dozen of us stayed for that, so it felt particularly convivial.

But, other than those few examples, I can't think of many things that a show has done in terms of "aftercare". Reading the programme on the way home and discussing the show with my date is usually all that happens. Theatre is a social object - can something more be made of how we continue to interact with it after the performance?

I suppose, in part, this is because people usually want to rush to catch a train home (although some theatres are experimenting with earlier start times). But, also, do the audience want this? Do you think a show is a one-off event that only exists from curtain-up to curtain-down? Is the catharsis of applause enough to send you back into the real world? Should we return to the tradition of the Shakespearean Jig at the end of a performance?

Theatres are competing for attention with every other entertainment experience. They are a premium product - a single ticket is often the same cost as several years of NetFlix - and the experience needs to much more than just get in, sit down, get out.

The problem with biographical plays is they need to give the audience a summary of a life in a few short speeches.

The problem with historical plays is they have to give a précis of the context needed to understand the times.

The Lightest Element is a historical science biography, with the net result that it feels like a play based on a dozen smushed together Wikipedia articles⁰. The text veers towards the didactic, with the occasional piece of heavy-handed Socratic dialogue thrown in for variety. The ninety minute runtime (without interval) doesn't allow much time for character development - which makes the supporting cast feel like caricatures.

It has a great deal of wit, and contains a powerful message about the overblown "culture wars". But are the keyboard warriors who rail against the nebulous concept of "woke" actually visiting the theatre?

It is a good play, with fine performances. Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin's story has been tragically overlooked for too long - this is an interesting, if uneven, attempt to set the record straight.

It was glorious!

Big Finish could have cheaped out - even with a bare set and a cast of newbies, the fans would have flocked to it. Instead, we got this lushly decorated set:

The console pulsed away during the interval. Swirling lights played around the TARDIS when the *Vworp Vworp* SFX played. And the DALEK told noisy theatre-goers that their mobile phones needed to be silenced on pain of… well, you can probably guess!

The cast (a mix of old favourites like India Fisher and Alex MacQueen joined by newbie Gabriel Clark) all bounced on to the stage dressed in their regular, casual clothes. Then in bounded Paul McGann dressed in full Eighth Doctor regalia! Now, perhaps he usually dresses in a full-length coat and knee-high boots - but the audience roared with appreciation.

If you've ever been to a radio recording, it was pretty standard. Cast standing behind the microphones, sitting down and flicking through their scripts when not needed, and only the occasional flub. But, rather magnificently, the music and sound effects were played in for the audience. Sat in a little booth to the side were Nicholas Briggs and Gabriel Clark. Briggs and his magic microphone brought to life the DALEK hoards, effortlessly switching between voices and arguing with himself.

Stealing the show, however, was Gabriel Clark. Not only providing sundry voices, but acting as a one-man Foley Artist. It was mesmerising him bring the sound of Who to life with rubber gloves, paper bags, and a biscuit tin. A joy to both watch and listen to.

The story was fun - plenty of intertextual references, megalomaniacal monsters, and regional accents. There was no great world building, and (spoilers) The Master escaped a little too easily. But all good knockabout adventures.

Joyously, they asked the audience to assist in some of the vocal effects - which we all did cheerfully. Listen closely when the recording is released and you will hear the sound of me drowning. Better add that to my IMDB page 😂

It was an absolute blast - and the audience jumped to a standing ovation. Doctor Who stage plays are something of a rarity - mostly due to technical constraints - but this is an excellent way to bring the stories to the stage.

Jukebox musicals have a variety of viable routes to success. You either do a Mama Mia / We Will Rock You and just spin a weak story around the tunes - or you do a straight biography interspersing songs with whatever anecdotes the surviving members can agree on.

Janis treads a different path. It is presented as a gig, with Janis singing and telling stories. The "twist" is that she is talking about all the singers who inspired her and, as though in a dream, they join her on stage. It turns the show into "An Evening with Janis Joplin… and Friends".

That's no bad thing! The powerful screeching vocals playing beautifully against the classic soul singers.

The show is loud - with warning signs dotted around the theatre.

This may be in deference to the average age of the audience - what hear shall miss our stack of speakers turned up to eleven will toil to mend!

We were sat in front of this bad boy.

Every crack of the drums was like rifle-fire, every little piece of my heart got a thorough shake, rattle, and roll.

The band is a joy, the banking singers punchy, and Mary Bridget Davies as Janis sings like she's gargled bourbon and barbed-wire.

If you're happy with a gig-style show rather than a traditional musical - and if you like your rock and/or roll deafening - you'll love this show.

I knew nothing about Pippin, but my dad saw it back in the 1970s and loved it - so I snagged us a couple of tickets. The story itself is fun enough; an over-privileged princeling goes off to find his purpose and finds himself waylaid by vices, murders, and ducks. It's a silly, wry, and self-knowing show. More like Into The Woods than anything else.

As this was an "in concert" production, I was kind of expecting the cast to just come out, sing into a microphone, and wander off. Instead, choreographer Joanna Goodwin treated us to the full "saucy-Fosse" - all bowler hats, shoulder jerks, and shimmying. The singing was, of course, divine. Alex Newell (Unique from Glee) was fabulous and soaked up the whooping and cheering from the audience like the star they are. Patricia Hodge - who was in the original 1972 production - returned and was obviously having a whale of a time prancing around with the dancers.

Half the audience remembered the original production, the other half were fresh-faced drama-school kids who relished the bedazzling displays of terpsichorean delights. Has Pippin got a cult following on TikTok or something?

I can't quite understand why this was only on for two nights. A dozen case members, a twenty-piece orchestra, and a 50-strong choir can't have come cheap. Are they prepping for a tour? I can only hope so!

It is baffling that this is somehow less than the sum of its parts. The acting and singing are incredible - Nicola Hughes in particular has a magnificent stage presence. The directing and staging is wonderfully innovative - giving even the most distant seat a close-up view. The songs are all great - with "You gotta make magic" a standout hit. The whole ensemble comes together in a perfect display of a what a West End musical is supposed to be.

And yet... there's nothing there. Part of the problem is the paper-thin and scattershot story. An actress doesn't like her part because... ummm... she's not old enough? She sort of manifests a younger version of herself, but that's never really explored. There's a bit of sexual tension which doesn't really have an emotional arc.

The use of handheld cameras to project the action on screen (similar to The Mind Mangler down the street) makes the whole thing feel more cinematic. When people are paying a fortune for nose-bleed seats, they deserve a decent view of the action. But, like any gig, I sometimes felt I was watching the screen more than the stage. At which point I might as well have been home watching it on Netflix rather than paying a tenner for a glass of wine. It also suffers from the same problem as the movie version of Les Mis; the actors are doing stage acting - designed to project emotions to vast distances - when caught on camera it can look like a little ridiculous.

There's very little space for audience appreciation, which is weird. In most musicals, there's a suitable pause after each big number so the audience can applaud. Due to the naturalistic way the show is presented, many songs immediately segue into dialogue - which means a smattering of applause quickly withers on the vine.

Sheridan Smith dominates the stage. She is an utter powerhouse, giving it her all. The rest of the cast - including a tragically underused Amy Lennox from Cabaret - are spectacular. The various background players make for an impressive Greek Chorus. It is impossible to fault their performances.

It's just their performances are in service of such a mediocre and incoherent story. Even at the end I was left confused about what I'd just seen. There's no particular resolution, the characters aren't especially sympathetic, and there's nothing interesting to be said afterwards.

If you're happy to be swept along by the spectacle, and don't want to think too hard about the plot, characters, or meaning, then it is a fine night out. I just found it a bit incoherent.

But, at the end, the rest of the audience rose for a standing ovation - so what do I know?

The Mind Manger is a crap magician dealing with his shitty home life, a tosspot stooge, and an audience full of idiots. Naturally, everything that can go wrong does go wrong. Imagine a very grumpy Tommy Cooper who despises his audience and, against all the evidence to the contrary, is convinced of his own mesmeric ability.

It's a fully interactive show - the whole audience become part of the act in various misconceived ways. Of course, when the magic does work, it is spectacular.

If you can, get front row seats. We had a close up view of all the mishaps and were drawn in to some of the tricks. Joyous to peek just a little bit behind the curtain.

The London run ends in a few days, and then it is off on tour. Absolutely worth grabbing a ticket. Positively daft fun for all ages.

It is Noises Off versus The Patriarchy as we discover how hard it is to be a actress (and authoress) in a world where female celebrity was only just beginning. It bounces between high drama and farce effortlessly. There are some very "actorly" meditations on what it means to be a performer, the price of fame, and how to handle a truculent audience.

The show runs for another week and is exceptional.

The plot isn't particularly original (it is hard being a teenage girl!!!) but the way the story unfolds is magical. It is witty, irreverent, and cringey in just the right amount. Charithra Chandran has easily enough stage presence to sustain the show alone. She takes up space and brings her various antagonists to life in a stunning display of thespianism. She effortlessly floats between witty teen-angst and a deeper, more profound pain.

The staging is a delight. A plain bedroom, enhanced with video projection, and a complete absence of production trickery. It really is Charithra alone up there - dragging us through her growing pains.

In an age of cheap and infinite content on Netflix, how do you convince kids to come to the theatre? Firstly, you cast a bone-fide Netflix star and, secondly, you make the tickets reasonably priced. Decent seats in the stalls are £25 - that's excellent value for a West End show. There are plenty of seats at that price and, although you can pay up to £60, the staging means a briliant view wherever you're sat.

And - judging by the predominate age of the audience - that strategy is working! The matinee audience was full of young women excitedly talking about the show.

This is what the West End needs more of. Not hyper-expensive productions (looking at you, Stranger Things), not cynical Disney movie cash-in shows, and certainly not yet-another jukebox musical - but brilliant actors, compelling stories, and sensible prices.

The show runs until 28th April 2024.

Brendan Murphy has prepared a dose of 100% pure 90's nostalgia and wishes to inject it into your eyeballs. Ahhh! Go on then!

The show styles itself as all 7 seasons, told in 70 minutes, from Spike's perspective. And that's just what we get. Murphy does a commendable job recreating Spike's "authentic" cockernee accent, and is delightfully dappy taking on the mantle of the other characters.

There is so much to love about this performance. The script is written by someone who obviously has great love for the Scooby Gang, but isn't afraid to point out the tropes and weirdness of the series. It is a loud, manic, cavalcade of energy - urged on by a cackling audience who recognise all the obscure quotes.

If you grew-up on Buffy, you'll enjoy this show.

Book tickets for the show and remember to bring a stake with you.

This show has been done countless times before. You, the audience, watch extracts from a murder trial. At the end, you vote on whether she done it or not. It feels more suited to a Channel 5 show which asks punters to text their verdict in to a premium rate number. Overall, it is a tawdry - but thoroughly uninteresting - tale.

The main problem (aside from the naff script) is a complete lack of respect for the audience. In an attempt to make the facts more ambiguous, large swathes of evidence are simply omitted. The whole case rests on forensics - yet these are never really addressed. Instead we get a parade of irrelevance - the jealous ex, the bitter daughter, the creepy friend. It's all noise and very little signal. I don't know if it is bad writing or whether murder trials usually this bone headed. Every flubbed line, every piece of histrionics, every withering remark from the judge are just a distraction from the fact that there's no substance to the play.

This isn't a case where we're being asked to confront complex and contradictory testimony. It doesn't rest on a subtle or interesting point of law. There's no moral jeopardy about whether the murder was justified or provoked. Instead, as my wife remarked, despite being repeatedly told not to let our prejudices affect us - that's all we're left with.

The show isn't helped by some terrible sound design. There's a full minute of blaring "dramatic" music at the start of each act (which seemed to glitch and be restarted in the show we saw). Lots of flashing and swirling lights don't disguise the fact that it's a static stage with people extemporising at each other.

Despite all the signs telling us not to use our phones, the second act ends with a big QR code and chance to vote as the jury. I've knocked the rating up a star because it was interesting listening to the people around us discuss what they thought was relevant, and the obvious shortcomings in both the defence's and prosecution's case. But the rating promptly loses another star because the Aldwych Theatre's seats were designed by a sadist who thought budget airline seats were too comfortable.

Post verdict, we're shown a pre-recorded video showing what really happened - plus some coda text describing the fate of the protagonist. I'd be curious to know if they show a different ending depending on what the jury decided. But not interested enough to sit through it again.

During the curtain call, the lighting engineer left the cast in the dark.

For the first time in its illustrious 114 year history, the historic London Palladium will host a monthly orchestral residency beginning in February 2024, which will see iconic artists’ music celebrated.

This was an entertaining, but curious, gig. It isn't a tribute act - no sequinned sound-alikes strutting the stage here - it's a a full rock-n-roll orchestra fronted by three dazzlingly talented female vocalists. They blasted out hit after hit - knowing that the audience is probably unlikely to remember an obscure B-Side from a 1968 single.

The songs are played with joy and panache. The singers are outstanding - filling the Palladium with their roar. There are really only two problems.

First, is the audience. I know it's fun to rag on Boomers - but the event staff were constantly dashing around telling the oldies that they weren't allowed to record the gig on their phones. The youth of today, eh?

Secondly, as delightful as it was to have Cerys Matthews as a host, it seemed a bit of a waste to have her merely recite Wikipedia trivia for each song. She did her best to get the audience motivated - but I think it was a bit too late on a Sunday for the Boomers.

The residency continues with music from Bowie, The Bee Gees, and Phil Collins.

The name-dropping is outrageous! The stories scandalous! The singing fabulous! It feels like the whole performance is in italics with extra exclamation marks.

It feels slightly odd to say this, but it was delightful to hear him sing in his natural accent. If you've seen Schmigadoon or Cabaret or literally anything else he's been in, you'll know what a gift he has for accents. But hearing classic show-tunes done in a rolling burr was magnificent.

The song choice is, I think it is fair to say, eclectic. I've seen a lot of musicals but even I struggled to place them all. Yes, he does some from Cabaret (although probably not the ones you'd expect) and a delicious Disney medley, but the real joy is in the deep cuts and the self-composed number.

His backing band is modest - piano, drums, trumpet, and cello - but it is more than enough to fill the space without being overpowering.

It is a sweet, joyous, flirtatious, and wickedly funny show. Perhaps the only disappointment was that we didn't get to hear a rendition of the theme from "High Life" 😉

Tickets are available for tonight in London, Thursday in Manchester, and Saturday in Glasgow.

Shitfaced Shakespeare knows its West End audience have had a few refreshments before the show. Their twist is - so has one of the cast members.

Take six classically trained thesps, get one of them pissed, proceed with the show.

It so nearly works.

Having a chaos-monkey dart around the stage, forgetting his soliloquies, making rude jokes, and being a bit of a prat is funny. But it is obviously a lot funnier for him than it is for his castmates. We've all had to put up with a drunk wanting to be the centre of attention. It's a laugh… for a bit, and then gets tiresome. Let it be so with this.

It does bring out rare moments of unexpected beauty. When Claudio is told Hero is dead, he howls in pain. It's the sort of raw emotion that can only be conjured up by the terminally bladdered. It is heart-wrenching. Similarly, on seeing Hero unmasked at their wedding, he drunkenly belches "I fookin' love you! You're so fit!" Which is probably what the character feels, but is usually left to subtext.

The play itself its very well done. The script has been stripped back (no Dogberry 🫡) and the 90ish minutes are played directly for laughs. The cast give it their all and happily improvise around their inebriated friend and the audiences whistles & cheers.

In many ways, this would have been better as "audience participation Shakespeare". They do engage with the audience and even pull one up on stage (never sit in the front row, darling!) - but it feels like they could have made more of the pantomime aspect.

There's always a nagging doubt about how drunk the actor is. They're obviously all talented improvisers, but there's on knowing how much of the foolishness is rehearsed or expected. Does that ruin the magic? Well, it depends of how cynical you are. Best to have a pint or three at the bar beforehand.

If you can get cheap tickets or want a works-night-out, this is a tawdry and bawdy way to spend the evening.

The cast - all six of them - give the prologue in song. Reminding us (in updated English) that we all know what's coming. It had never occurred to me that the rhythm and rhyme of Shakespeare's poetry fits perfectly to music.

Now, by any count, there are at least 20 characters in the play. So the cast of 6 has to go through some rapid (and hilarious) costume changes to bring them all on to the stage. It also means that Romeo ends up marrying his father while Juliet is engaged to her mother. Freud would be proud. Various members of the audience are roped in to playing parts, holding scenery, and making music - which is rather jolly.

And I think that's the way I'd describe this production - jolly. We're all sat in a pub garden, beer in hand, catching a tan from the English rain, watching Bright Young Things dick about on stage. Half the audience muttering along to the half-remembered soliloquies while the other half are creased over with laughter. There are sword fights, fart jokes, teenage histrionics, and a scene-stealing nurse played by Vicky Gaskin. What more could you want?

The stage is cleverly designed multi-level bit of scaffolding - allowing the cast to clamber all over it, retrieve hidden props, and fits in well with the slightly shambolic æsthetic.

The entire cast were wonderful. They bantered with the audience beautifully, brought out the true emotion behind the play, and gamely gambolled away. The use of costumes to switch between characters is deftly done. And the whole thing ends with a song and jig, as is traditional.

The show is touring at a pub near you this summer and I thoroughly recommend it.

You can find out more by following Open Bar Theatre.

A Word On #ShakeRace

The term "#ShakeRace" was coined, I think, by Dr. Ambereen Dadabhoy. It looks at the intersection between Shakespeare and race. I've enjoyed reading several books about it.

We're firmly in the 21st century, so there's nothing particularly remarkable about seeing a mixed race cast in Shakespeare. And anyone who has been bedazzled by "& Juliet" will be used to a Black Juliet. But it is worth understanding a little about the history of how we got here.

The earliest evidence we have for a Black woman playing Shakespeare is a (sadly unnamed) actress touring the north of England some two-hundred and fifty years ago! Coincidentally she also played Juliet. John Jackson writing in 1770 had this to say:

John Jackson, History of the Scottish Stage (London, 1793), pp. 349-51

So anyone who claims a white-washed Shakespeare is somehow more traditional can get in the sea!

As noted by Jackson - does the intertextuality of the actor's skin colour change the meaning of the play? Does the speech need updating to account for the race of the players?

In the performance I saw, they skipped the word "Ethiop". Which I think makes sense. It's nothing to do with bowdlerisation, but rather a reflection on both the attitudes of the performers and the audience.

But, of course, as the play progresses we get more intertextuality. Consider Juliet's words as she speaks to Romeo:

Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.

In one sense, it is night and Romeo cannot see her. But what if she is making reference to her skin colour? It is unlikely that Shakespeare imagined the speech being given by a Black woman (although there were Black Tudors) - but this is the joy of seeing Shakespeare modernised! Whether it's a play set in outer-space or in a cliquey high school, Shakespeare's words become reinterpreted by our experience of seeing different actors play the parts.

Is the Montague and Capulet rivalry an ethnic conflict? After all, Lady Capulet reminds us that:

He is a kinsman to the Montague. Affection makes him false; he speaks not true. Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life.

Which is, of course, how West Side Story interprets the play.

All of which is to say, Romeo and Juliet remains as relevant as ever. As long as there are stars in the sky there will be people finding new and interesting ways to reimagine it for their audience.

If you're unfamiliar with the plot - as I was - it's a remake of a 1970s piece of agit-prop theatre in which the death of a suspect in police custody is investigated. The titular Anarchist died after falling from a 4th floor window. But did he jump or was he pushed? What are the limits of police responsibility? Can you trust what anyone says? Is the cover-up worse than the crime? Doesn't sound like a laugh-a-minute show, does it? And yet...

Every line contains a laugh. The absurdity of trusting the police with anything is mercilessly skewered. As are we - the audience - for treating abuse of power as entertainment. It was amazing to see how a powerful script and top class actors can flip an audience from screaming with laughter to gasping in horror within a scene.

It is hard to describe just how maniacal Daniel Rigby is. The whole show is built around his incredible talents - to the point where it almost feels like the other actors are somewhere between supporting cast and props. He is an absolute lynchpin with complete mastery of physicality and total command of his audience - and he deserves to win every award going. As do the Director and Stage Designer.

Sadly, at times the play does descend into MEN SHOUTING AT EACH OTHER which is a little grating. Don't worry, they let a woman have a few lines in the second act. But they mostly SHOUT AT HER AS WELL. The play also tries to inject as much topicality as it can - with mentions of recent scandals in the world of police and politics. But, at times, it feels a little like a Wikipedia article reeling off facts and figure. The pace is so furious that the righteous fury never has a chance to build.

As is par for the West End, the theatre had plenty of empty seats. Theatres need to realise that £75 a seat just doesn't represent great value for money. Not in a cramped row with no leg room, a long wait for the toilets, and a £4 programme consisting of little more than an IMDb précis of the talent. There's also nothing in the theatre to build anticipation for the show or to transform a visit into an experience.

If you can grab one of the cheap ticket deals, this is 100% worth it. Easily the most shocking set of laughs I've had. As with all satire, I'm never sure if it will act as a flashpoint for action or simply make people think they're doing something just by watching.

Either way, you should see this show, and then visit inquest.org.uk/

So what happens when a hit radio show is transformed into a West End Spectacular? Magic!

Radio 4's Bleak Expectations always surpassed other radio comedies by virtue of actually being funny. It's a long-running parody of all the tropes in Dickens' novels - and Victoriana in general. And now it has a short run at the Criterion Theatre as a two act play. We get a whirlwind of characters getting married, dying, seeking their fortune, being double-crossed, and sent to boarding school. Sound effects (and swans) rain down on them as prance through the plot. Accents are picked up and discarded like yesterday's bread. It is all very silly and a total delight.

Look, it isn't the most sophisticated comedy - and it lacks the detailed technical brilliance of something like The Play That Goes Wrong - but it has a hell of a lot of heart in amongst the mayhem.

The cast are having a whale of a time - giving us a cacophony of silly voices, frenzied dancing, and outrageously bad puns. It is delightful to see actors trying as hard as possible to make each other laugh. The jokes come in thick and fast - if one doesn't land, there's always a dastardly villain's guffaw to cushion the blow.

There's a new narrator every week - we had Adjoa Andoh who obviously relished the opportunity to stick on a moustache and pantomime her way through the proceedings.

It doesn't require you to have listened to even a second of the radio show. There's no back story or deep lore to worry about. Though, devotees of the series will recognise plenty of the characters and their catchphrases.

Sadly, the theatre was half-empty when we saw it. Maybe the radio series doesn't have the broad recognition that's needed to cut through the crowded West End market? The stunt casting of celebrity narrators is a good way to draw a crowd - but perhaps not enough to build excitement.

It's a pity because it is a genuinely funny show.

But, in an age where Netflix will give you endless comedy for a tenner, perhaps it is asking a bit much to expect people to pay up to £70 a ticket? There are cheap seats for £15 which represents excellent value for a night's live entertainment.

The problem with satire is that it relies on current events. If you watch old Spitting Image episodes on TV half the jokes fall flat because you don't remember that particular scandal, nor that has-been TV star. The stage show simply can't react to current events because all the voices are pre-recorded! There's absolutely no room for the show to grow. The performers can't even pause for laughter.

The stage show gets around this by setting the "plot" in the week before the coronation. It sort of works. The story is an incoherent jumble of sketches and songs. Some of the satire is breathtakingly good - literally had the whole theatre gasping at their audacity. Other bits fall flat. In that way, it's very similar to the original TV show - when it works, it soars. But it does feel flabby. Again, if the voices were live they could react to the audience and work out what needs trimming or beefing up.

Some of the satire is a bit lazy. It isn't exactly the height of sophistication to refer to Prince Andrew as "Nonce Andrew" or having Greta Thunberg going into a lustful frenzy over Stormzy. They're obviously playing to the crowd of geriatrics who remember the 1990s show - John Major being grey and boring isn't exactly cutting-edge comedy.

We saw the 2nd night performance and there were still a number of technical glitches - mostly with out of synch sound - which really ought to have been resolved. The sound mixing isn't great - I felt like subtitles wouldn't have gone amiss.

Overall, Spitting Image is daftly entertaining. Silly songs, a pull-no-punches glee at shitting over everyone, and technical brilliance. It's let down by a ramshackle script and inability to reflect this week's news.

I must also add that the theatre experience is dire. The auditorium doors didn't open until a few minutes before showtime - which meant a few hundred people cramped inside the bars, unable to move. Unlike, say, Cabaret, there has been no thought given to the pre-show experience. They could have had some of the original TV show puppets on display, or a TV showing clips, or concept artwork or people to view. Instead there is... nothing. A lacklustre programme, the standard overpriced drinks, and no understanding that a modern audience is there for an experience as well as a show.

Oh, and the toilets were filthy, cramped, and over-capacity.

Theatres have to realise that the cost of a single ticket pays for a year's subscription to Netflix. The West End is a luxury and has to reflect a premium experience. Shovelling as many people into a dilapidated theatre and asking them to pay a fiver for a tiny tub of ice-cream doesn't cut it any more.

The show runs until 26th August 2023.