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Ariel, Flotsom, Ursual and Jetsom flashing the cash. Pictures: Pamel Raith Unfortunate Wolverhampton Grand **** Hans Christian Andersen set the ball rolling almost 200 years ago with his sad and rather dark fairy story about the princess willing to give up her life as a mermaid to gain a human soul. It was given a romantic sugar coating, with songs, in a Disney movie some 30 or so years ago then, via the Edinburgh Fringe, Unfortunate arrived to smash through the lovey dovey Hollywood schmaltz and reveal the true story of Ursula the sea witch, Ariel the sex obsessed mermaid princess and Eric the human prince with an IQ that starts with a decimal point. Its fast, furious, fabulously funny, and just to keep the F theme going it’s f****** filthy – we are at the Chubby Brown end of musical theatre here. (Note: If filling in the asterisks is beyond you, or leads to palpitations this show is not for you!). Most of the action is under water with expletives swimming around everything in shoals and you have to admire the skill of writers and lyricists Robyn Grant, who is also director, and Daniel Foxx in the inventive ways they have found to rhyme with body parts, genitalia and sexual proclivities. We even get a collection of bizarre sea creatures singing of how various ailments and personal problems meant We Didn’t Make It To Disney – reasons it seems to inducate that pc has yet to reach the ocean depths.
Shawna Hamic shaking a tentacle or two as sea witch Ursula The story is simple . . . sort of. Ursula is a super intelligent sea witch and toilet cleaner, while Triton is a wildly romantic prince, heir to the undersea kingdom of Atlantica, and he falls for Ursula, a romance thwarted by Triton’s dad Neptune who frames Ursula for the murder of the sea cucumber princess and banishes her to the dark depths. Twenty years later Triton’s daughter Ariel finds a copy of Cosmopolitan and becomes obsessed with sex, in particular the dangly bits below the waist that evolution has denied male fish, fins just don’t cut it for her anymore. In the original back in 1837 she wanted a soul, here it’s, well, a bit more basic and probably easier to achieve as she sings she wants to be Where The Dicks Are. And sadly the one she finds and saves is Eric, a Prince who if he married a genius would sire half wits. And that’s sort of it in an oyster shell. Shawna Hamic is a class act as Ursula, proving why she is a TV and Broadway star with exquisite timing, glorious stage-filling brashness and a voice just made for musical theatre. Thomas Lowe became a crowd favourite as the romantic Prince Triton, giving his royal highness at times a rather sad and poignant air – the nearest we will ever get to a love interest. He’s the sea prince while up on the land with have Prince Eric played once again with a wonderful air of congenial and congenital stupidity by Jamie Mawson, still with chest height vision when it comes to the ladies. Mawson helped out with a shift in Act I as the bearded, scheming Neptune. Doubling up being an unfortunate trend with Julian Capolei appearing as Eric’s aide de camp or whatever, Grimsby, when he is not Ursula’s shape shifted seductress Vanessa, in thigh high leather and able to do the splits. She appears top heavy enough to impress Eric to marry her although the moustache might have flagged a hint of caution for anyone brighter than a house brick. Vanessa, or Ursula lite, was Ursula’s creation to scupper the chances of airhead Ariel, a real in yer face, splendid performance from Rupaul's Drag Race star River Medway, who revels in the role with camp delight – and who knew Ariel hailed from the seas off Essex.
Julian Capolei as Ursula's alter ego Vanessa with a don't try this at home moment Then we have Allie Dart as . . . well loads of people. She is the Irish crab Sebastian who sort of looks after Triton and Ariel and the Atlantica royals, and in her spare time she is Chef Colette, even managing to be both characters in one scene with a new number Les Poissons which sees Ariel, the girl who can’t speak, in the kitchen with Colette who is about to cook fish and crab . . . or Sebastian as it turns out – shock horror Dart and Capolei also pop up as Ursula’s helpers (?) German eels, Flotsam and Jetsom in the dark waters of banishment. The rest of the cast of what appears to be thousands is made up by an incredibly hard working and lightning fast costume changing ensemble of Corrina Buchan, Jack Gray, Jamie McKillop and Milly Willows. Abby Clarke’s simple and wonderfully effective set from its fringe days has been expanded with the excellent five piece orchestra under musical director Arlene McNaught, on shelves, or in this context, I suppose reefs high up on either side of the stage. A more than doubling in length has seen some new characters, more fabulous costumes and additional puppets creating a magical visual display enhanced by Adam King’s lighting. Sound was less illuminating. Too many words and lyrics were lost, particularly in ensemble numbers, which, probably lost not only sparkling wit but a fair number of laughs. To be fair things did improve a little in Act II, largely because we had more solos and duets which, by their nature, were more focussed. Tim Gilvin’s music turns the lyrics into rock ballads, love songs (sort of) and tunes that have the familiar ring of pop about them in a wonderful pastiche of genres all adding to what is a joyful, laugh a minute, brash, irreverent, pc defying, night of fun – with one simple proviso.
River Medway as sex obsessed Ariel There is crudity, sexual references a plenty, inuendo, and language and content that would give maiden aunts the vapours and see them clutching for the smelling salts. Age guidance is 16, Hans Christian Andersen and Disney this ain’t, its more 50 shoals of grey territory. Bigger is not always better, which is a dangerous observation to make in a show of this nature, but it is, as you might say, unfortunately true. I saw the original, Fringe fresh and running to just over an hour, back in 2019, with director Grant as Ursula, Allie Dart as Sebastian and Mawson as the stupid and as obessed by ladies’ lumpy bits as ever, Eric. It was fast, innovative, witty, full of bawdy smut and beautifully balanced and rounded. Like Topsy, though, it has grown, more than doubled in size (two hours 25 minutes with interval), become more sophisticated in both staging and ambition, more brash with added crudity, new characters and scenes, so much so that perhaps it is even trying to pack too much in. But it is still wonderfully witty and funny, with some brilliant songs and plenty of throwaway lines, such as Colette’s vegan comment, and it has gained a lot in both size and stature, becoming an infant terrible in mainstream theatre, but, growing up has come at a price. It has lost that cabaret, comedy club, reach out and touch the audience intimacy. In 2019 in studios we were close enough to be part of the show, drawn in to Ursula’s strange world, now we sit back in main houses and laugh as observers. Not that that detracts from what is glorious,
Risqué, with a capital R, entertainment chronicling the version Disney
didn’t want to tell, complete with an unexpected twist at the end. There is even a
little gentle environmental campaigning in there, well hidden among the
laughs, no preaching, no speeches, just pointed jokes about pooing in
the sea along with humans throwing rubbish into the ocean and Ariel’s
mermaid sister choking to death on a plastic bag. Ariel and Ursula will be splashing about to 14-07-24 with the final performance 5pm on Sunday, ending before the 8pm Euro final kick off. Roger Clarke 11-07-24 |
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