Reviews

He might be the planet’s last survivor but Mitch Jones stirs up pathos and laughter, even as he finally eats himself.

In his dystopian space of rubbish furniture, plastic bags and skewered lighting, he first blends into a smoothie all his available bits – dandruff, hairs, piss, sweat – but with the theatrical aplomb of a TV chef.

Perhaps he’s a former newsreader. In his shredded suit, he looks like those others flashing up on the old TVs amongst the scaffolding, with news of meteoric temperatures and new laws allowing the sale of body-parts.

When I was a lad, enamored with Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, the stagings were slavishly ‘traditional’ - W.S Gilbert’s original 19th century direction remained the increasingly stale holy grail for enthusiasts. Thankfully, times have changed.

Since the handbrake of copyright was released, Gilbert’s satirical topsy turvy scripts and Sullivan’s delightful scores have had many a new interpretation, or fresh coat of paint.

The doors were open again and despite an audience wearing face-masks and 50% capacity, there was a heightened buzz in the air. This was, after all, the first major production to open at QPAC after the Coronavirus lockdown.

Shrek The Musical is based on Dreamworks hugely successful 2001 animated motion picture and the 1990 book by William Steig, about a green ogre, Shrek (Ben Mingay) whose swamp has been invaded by various fairytale characters who have been kicked out of Duloc by the diminutive Lord Faquaad (Todd McKenney).

LaBute’s play, written in 2001, has lost none of its astute ability to manipulate the audience. Nor does it lose the power of its final, disturbing scenes. LaBute craftily beguiles the audience with what appears to be a love story, albeit one that appears to condone the power of one person to hurt another in the name of art. In doing so, he raises such issues as the real nature of romance, friendship, personal identity, body image, honesty in relationships – and just what can be called ‘art’.