Review: Rapunzel the Rock 'n' Roll Panto at Liverpool Everyman ***1/2

Hair we go! Christmas is a-coming, and that means fairy lights, the mainlining of mince pies and the arrival of the Everyman Rock ‘n’ Roll panto.

The theatre is in the middle of celebrations for its 60th anniversary, and one of the cornerstones of its annual programme remains its famous Christmas show.

It’s morphed through various incarnations over the decades, although pulsing live music remains at its core.

Under Francesca Goodridge’s lively direction, this season’s show Rapunzel is as big and colourful and loud and energetic as you expect a rock ‘n’ roll panto to be.

And the all-important musicianship on show is impressive – the multi-tasking, instrumentalist-swapping actor-muso cast putting the rock into the panto’s rock ‘n’ roll title with spirited performances of a host of rousing numbers from the opening Don’t Stop Me Now to The Final Countdown. They sound great.

They’re also evidently having a blast, and throw their all into their performances, not least a guitar-wielding Zoe West as the villainous crimper Danny Ruff, a preposterous preening ‘man’s man’ complete with viva Zapata moustache who storms around the stage spouting ‘manly’ gibberish in a Mancunian accent.

Above: A slideshow of images from Rapunzel. Top: Ai Kumar as the titular heroine. Photos by Marc Brenner.

Meanwhile imprisoned high up in the St Johns Beacon (this fairytale’s tower) above Ruff’s rival salon (named ManFerIt) is Ai Kumar’s pink-haired Rapunzel, forced to use her ‘magic’ tresses to help him to world hairdressing domination. Or something.

Into her life comes friendly support in the form of actor-choreographer Rebecca Levy’s kooky trainee stylist Laurie and Ben Boskovic’s enjoyably idiotic Prince Timotei, the latter clad in lurid fluorescent colours and merrily channelling the ridiculousness of Monty Python in his delivery.

And yet. And yet. Despite all that, the production somehow lacks the glorious sense of impending, riotous anarchy that it used to possess.

Leaving aside the cheese dream of a plot, and the need for more really good laugh-out-loud gags (Liz Truss jokes are very 2022), it all feels nice and polished and, well, a little bit safe. It’s Multi-Coloured Swap Shop when it should be Tiswas. And yes, I realise that analogy ages me!

Above: The cast of Rapunzel. Photo by Marc Brenner.

The water pistol soaking feels quite polite, and even the male audience member traditionally targeted on the front row (a seemingly willing Rob from Waterloo on press night) is let off incredibly lightly. He doesn’t set foot on stage, let alone become a hapless stooge in the show. There’s a bit of gentle, suggestive rib-tickling, and a soupcon of singing, but that’s his lot.

What it’s crying out for is the reinstatement of a proper comedy double act as its engine room. Adam Keast twinkles and gurns and pays playful homage to his hero Rik Mayall as he works the audience with cheerful ease. But he’s a lone Dangerous Brother in need of a silly, saucy, slightly unhinged sibling to really make his Fairy Fixer-Upper fly.

It’s frustrating that he’s not given the chance to develop a proper partnership with Michael Starke, back in drag more than a decade after giving the Empire his Edna Turnblad and here taking on Dame duties as Debbie Updo, blousy proprietor of the failing Blonde Bombshell hair salon.

There’s still plenty to enjoy, particularly in the sparky performances, and the audience around me seemed happy to ‘let down their hair’. The show just really needs to do the same.