THEATRE REVIEW: The Hunting of the Snark – Vaudeville Theatre  

So what is a snark? Of course, Lewis Carroll, at the time of writing, left it for you and me to decide. Later in life he admitted it might be a metaphor for happiness. The four-year-old I chatted to after this excellent adaptation is sure that the snark is a magical bird. Either way Carroll’s delightfully silly nineteenth century nonsense poem is fine starting point for witty, engaging, imaginative musical theatre for children.

The cast are a highly talented bunch. Simon Turner does an exquisitely ridiculous slinky Elvis turn in When You’ve Got Money, Polly Smith has an impressive portfolio of accents. Jordan Leigh-Harris sings beautifully and finds the right balance of innocence, vulnerability and feistiness for a young motherless boy who is bullied at school. Will Bryant’s wicked Bandersnatch, dressed like a Christmas tree ornament, prances malevolently when he’s not being the timid baker. And Ben Galpin gives us an earnest khaki-suited explorer – David Attenborough merged with Jacob Rees-Mogg.

Gareth Cooper’s eight musical numbers – lots of ensemble harmony and counterpoint – are gloriously diverse. The costumes (designed by Justin Nardella) are bright and daft but also homely – a multicoloured knitted dress for a banker who loses his trousers for instance, and a series of stereotypical nationality hats. And it’s all played out on a spare set which evokes the London skyline, the moon and more. Ceri James’s lighting – from near blackout to flushed rosy pink manipulates the atmosphere well too.

The plot (“What plot?” as one of the characters comments) takes Turner as the money-obsessed, soon-to-be trouserless banker to Snark Island with his mostly ignored son (Leigh-Harris) to find and exploit the elusive snark. With them goes Ben Galpin’s Bellman because he’s a natural history expert and Will Bryant as the baker – gay, nervous and hilarious. Polly Smith’s butcher, meanwhile, charges absurdly about with a meat cleaver looking for creatures to kill and eat. Think Monty Python crossed with The Tempest.

 

Review by Susan Elkin