Oh the sight of a Gin-Soaked Tinkerbelle, oh the sight of a transvestite governess, oh the sight of a Hook so camp as to make Adam and the Ants look like a tribute act. In short: oh the hilarity. What you are watching is not an adaptation of Peter Pan but a realistic vision of a student night; Neverland for all intents and purposes can be understood as a nightclub.
From curtain to curtain I didn’t stop braying. Not only I, nor my companion but the only whole audience was in fits of hysterics at a script, score and cast which were genuinely funny. From the very beginning in the Pyjama party with a certain ‘club’ t-shirt as night-wear you become aware that this production is going to realise a childhood vision but in the palette of the debauched university student. The costume team have done a stellar job in creating a look in the production of genuine student stereotyping. Particularly delightful were the Lost Boys with their onesie juvenilia. Hook’s pink silk admiral number too, worked to accentuate the high camp of Jamie Beckett’s Errol Flynn esque portrayal. The team also succeeded in Tinkerbelle’s dress taken by the looks of it from the wet dreams of a Gothic witch with a desire to be the belle of some hellish ball; allowing Lewis Chandler to make as many suggestive flashes as was feasible. This left the audience howling in joy as well as fear and in doing so gained the audience’s favour.
Peter Pan was played with a demonic glee, a prescient perkiness that can only be found in the memory of day school, nursery and any other childhood club. Emma Gallacher took genuine pleasure it seems from breaking out from an enforced regime of fun. Smee, as played by Ed Wellington, brought a bi-polar take to a character which has been neglected in adaptations for too long. No longer just a snivelling side kick, he waxes almost philosophically at points debating what villainy and what love are: coming to more than one conclusion for both. Wendy, as played by Lizzie Maxwell, too was at the heart of quasi-serious questioning about the toils and tribulations of being middle-class; oh the horror of Jack Wills night-wear.
Moreover praise must be given to Vicky Noble, Helen Peatfield, Matthew Corry and Dan Jones for providing a welcome change of tone and pace in the overall narrative whilst still maintaining the laughs. Particularly noteworthy is the knife happy Shank. The entire Lost Boys were a whirl of boyish energy with the relationship between Binkie and Marmaduke, played by respectively Stephanie Bartlett and Rihanna Johnson, being a heart-warming touch. As was the brotherly bond of Diederick Van Wersch and George Hughes.
The Pirates with their posturing and brooding gang mentality provide some of the best songs, notably a wickedly indulgent spin on Call me Maybe. This along with a play on the Grease ‘hit’ Summer Nights warbled and crooned out by the deliciously indulgent Tinkerbelle and Peter Pan must be what one remembers from this night. Either that or Rhys Hayes in mini shorts and not much else save a pair of go-go boots. The boys it must be observed make a very suspiciously good job of prancing in heels.
Thus, this is Peter Pan subverted and twisted. It’s been made self-aware and self-effacing, placing itself firmly within the audience’s collective memory of childhood television, music, fun and pantomime. Throughout the play, the script is littered with references to what must have been present in the original pantomimes and which we now understand to be terribly, terribly inappropriate. Beyond this it is rammed with references to our childhood of Furbies and Jungle Temple games on ITV. This is done with the wizened and nostalgic eye of the seasoned student. As you watch the lost boys in their Onesies you realise that Neverland is not an imaginary place but actually exists for three years of any middle-class life. It is no doubt a world which is as debauched as this Neverland of fairy dust and cursing ten year olds. As Wendy realises it has to, unfortunately, at some point end. Yet before that happens you can spend a good two hours watching nearly grown-up men and women make such magnificent foolery as to leave with a childish grin from ear to ear. How often do you get to watch a gin swilling fairy, a camp hook wielding crooner and a hoard of sword waving children? If you’re feeling the January blues, or just want to laugh then this the production for you. It is watchable, enjoyable and downright hilarious.
I say, sounds and absolute wheeze, what!