This spectacular fairy-tale musical romance tells the love-story we all want to hear: the one where a tendency to flatulence is as unimportant as good looks, says Katie Jarvis
‘Think: dubious-looking man with very green tinge,’ I say, ‘on the pull all night for a girl… Oh, and think: equine with very specific talents.’
Ian’s face falls.
‘You’re absolutely right,’ he says. ‘Cheltenham Races. We need to leave early to find a parking space.’
And now it’s a stage musical.
A musical, moreover, with such razzmatazz, vigour and heart. It’s loud; it’s gymnastic; it’s funny and moving, and dazzlingly spectacular.
A story filled with metaphor about the cruelties of life and – particularly if you’re a man- (or woman-) eating giant – practical tips for overcoming them.
So here’s the action. Shrek, the seven-year-old ogre, is sent out into the world by his parents, to live by himself in a swamp of his own choosing. (I realise that introducing family court proceedings at this early stage might slow the action, but, honestly: surely Fairy Tale social services should have been alerted?)
As they grow up, both dream of love. True love that, as all children understand, involves far more flatulence than most adults are initially prepared to admit.
A love that is blind to outer hideousness (yes, Cheltenham Race-goers I came across while walking to the theatre: some of you do stand a chance); and open to kindness, humour and courage.
And friendship, too. When times are hard, you don’t look a talking gift-donkey in the mouth.
The magic of this production is utterly brought to life by the extraordinary staging, where the set becomes the unfurling pages of a fairy-tale book; it’s immersive; transportive; beautiful.
The cast, too, embodies our every imagining of these favoured characters: Antony Lawrence as heart-warming Shrek; Joanne Clifton, feisty Fiona; and the hilarious Brandon Lee Sears as Donkey.
Cherece Richards deserves a big hand as the dragon/witch (along with the puppeteers, who brought it all to life. Amazing).
Big shout-out, too, to the incredibly talented band who played the fairy-tale mob persecuted by Lord Farquaad as takes-one-to-know-one freaks.
My one question would be: this is a musical. The orchestra was fab. But would there be any song – just one even – that you’d leave singing? (The litmus test, for me.) I’m not sure I’d recognise one if it hit me in the face. Except, of course, for the final number: the Sixties hit, I’m A Believer. Not only summed up the story – but pretty much all of us (a multi-generational audience to boot) disappeared into the night with it still on our lips.
Everyman Cheltenham, Regent Street, Cheltenham GL50 1HQ; everymantheatre.org.uk
