BWW Reviews: RETURN TO THE FORBIDDEN PLANET, New Wimbledon Theatre, March 23 2015

It was a nostalgia-fest when it opened back in the 80s, so, on its 25th Anniversary flight, Return to the Forbidden Planet (at New Wimbledon Theatre until 28 March and on tour) is meta-nostalgia-fest with plenty in the audience remembering the songs they remembered the first time they saw the show. Got that?

If you have, you'll get the convoluted plot (based - loosely based - on Shakespeare's The Tempest) and you'll catch plenty of the lines drawn from that and other Shakespearean favourites that are wittily inserted / clumsily crowbarred into the script. The show is a strange mash-up of 50s sci-fi movie, jukebox musical and rock and roll revival gig, but its longevity and worldwide success proves that the formula works more for some than it does for me!

But if the storyline is tricky to follow (mad scientist marooned on planet; evil wife returning to finish him off; beautiful daughter wrapped up in a love triangle; robot with supernatural powers) maybe we should concentrate on the songs. And the songs are worth that attention! There's hit after hit from the 50s and 60s, all played by the gifted cast who move from clowning to singing to dancing in the twinkling of an eye - the full-hand of musical theatre skills are required by everyone on stage and it's hard to criticise them giving their all.

Unfortunately the sheer breadth of talents required of the actors does impact on the quailty of the music. Though visually impressive as plectrums are swapped with drumsticks with everyone (it seems) taking a turn on every instrument, the playing can often be a little one-paced, with Good Vibrations particularly sludgy. The old book problem of songs breaking up a musical's narrative arc is a little more noticeable than it might be, possibly because there's a quote from Julius Caesar to be slid in alongside Johnny B Goode, That said, Christine Holman's Go Now is a real showstopper and Sarah Scowen is impressive whenever she grabs the mic, her take on The Byrds' Mr Spaceman a lovely closer.

A long show gets longer when the cast jump out of their costumes (how they must enjoy that freedom) and tear up some classics, with everyone on their feet for a grand old knees-up, the laboured plot long forgotten. All around me, people were loving the finale and, despite the running time going past the two and a half hour mark, they were demanding more. It had been energetic and noisy throughout. They may even have heard Mark Newnham's Hendrixian guitar solo in the International Space Station - it was loud enough to carry the distance - and everyone left happy with the entertainment. I rather enjoyed the quiet at last,

Photo Nobby Clark

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