Though fully prepared that pantomimes are by their very nature camp, this production thoroughly exceeded all expectations. I have always been very wary of any production that trades on sexuality alone for the shock factor, and the fact that Lady Gaga’s constant refusal to define her sexual preferences is no longer headline worthy proves my theory that this topic is redundant in its aim to be controversial. Few people care whether you like boys or girls or both or neither. I don’t think exploitation of sexuality for a reaction alone makes a good story and, unfortunately, in this instance I was right.

Despite a lack of any sub stories to break up the two hour show, the cast had fantastic energy throughout. And regardless of my opinions on the story itself, full marks must be awarded for the Richard Lambert’s clever lighting and David Shield’s  truly enchanting set. Even some of Jon Bradfield and Martin Hooper’s writing could be considered very tight with clever poetry. But together? It was just. Too. Much. And not in a good way.

In its own right I suppose the story could stand as a modern fairytale of sorts for a specific audience, if they neatened the plot a little and cited that inspiration was drawn from Sleeping Beauty. As a “remake” of the original (albeit with a twist) I think it deviates too far away to justify being touted under the same title.

One of the two redeeming features was Mandy Dassa’s Fairy Glowstick who held the show together with perfectly timed and charmingly animated delivery of the rhythmic poetry narrating the story. Dassa was genuinely a pleasure to both watch and listen to. The other was Matthew Baldwin in fantastic drag as Beauty’s mother with just enough tongue-in-cheek acidic jibes and subtle pointed looks to keep me tremendously entertained, proving that less is definitely more.

The rest of the cast were literary criminals, hoarding all of these wonderful words in their mouths and then suddenly letting them rush out in a jumbled and incoherent stream with little to no ennunciation. In the back (third) row, I missed most of what was said, which is a real shame.

Of the little I could hear I found there to be too many cultural references with no sense of logical cohesion, from Chekhov and Edgar Allan Poe to Eastenders. It seemed as though they were aiming to please each possible individual taste of each audience member but in the process managed to please no-one.

Pantomimes bravely feed on audience participation but these actors appeared to not be prepared for any reaction at all, even dipping in and out of character during one of the more robust heckles.

This made any suspension of reality impossible, especially as most of the cast were really not singers. Or if they were, they shouldn’t be.

I’m afraid to say that for me, the only sleeping beauty in this production were the tired and really quite offensive clichés being trotted out as often as possible. I sincerely hope that the play was intending to offend everyone regardless of sex, sexual preferences, race and political aspirations as it certainly achieved that if nothing else. I was waiting for it to end and when it finally did, I had long since given up trying to follow the plot, which was farcical even by this genre’s standards.

In spite of my opinion, I was really quite perturbed by how much the male dominated audience seemed to enjoy the production, squealing with glee at every single double, triple, quadruple entendre. Judging by their delighted reaction I would encourage you to go and see it because as a heterosexual woman, perhaps I just didn’t get it.