Avenue Q West End review – puerile puppetry perfection

Aside from being the show that introduced explicit puppet sex to Broadway and West End stages, Avenue Q is primarily remembered as the small-scale tuner that beat the mighty Wicked to the 2004 Tony award for Best Musical. Watching this giddy remounting, not an exact replica of the first production although several of the original creatives are still onboard, it’s easy to see why people rooted for this scintillating, humongous-hearted little show.

If this Sesame Street for adults sometimes feels like a period piece (does anybody under 40 know who Gary Coleman is without Googling?!) it has an abundance of sardonic bite and vitality. Cosmetic changes have been made to Jeff Whitty’s book, Jason Moore’s direction and the lyrics of Jeff Marx and Robert Lopez: Trump and ChatGPT are mentioned, graduate Princeton now makes a playlist rather than a mixtape for his beloved Kate Monster, Lucy The Sl*t is now an Only Fans star…

Fundamentally though, this is the same zany confection, peppering kernels of relatable truth and human feeling amongst the pop-eyed joy and puerile but hilarious rudeness. There’s as much emotional insight in Kate Monster’s rueful cri de coeur solo “There’s a Fine, Fine Line” as in similar songs from more conventional scores (“if someone doesn’t love you back it isn’t such a crime / but there’s a fine fine line between love / and a waste of your time”). The mini gutpunch of Lucy dismissing flailing Princeton as less unique than he imagines himself to be is unmistakable, and the sense of flawed people (and puppets!) just trying to do their best is oddly moving. 

People who remember Avenue Q from first time round will know what they’re getting, the uninitiated may find themselves taken aback at the assertion that “everyone’s a little bit racist” or the eye-watering crudeness of a number like “You Can Be as Loud as the Hell You Want (When You’re Makin’ Love).” Attitudes and sensibilities have moved on in the last 20 plus years, but the lessons these lovable loafers and neurotics learn – that we’re all longing for connection, altruism makes you feel better, that schadenfreude makes you you feel even better, (well, possibly) and life can be disappointing – haven’t changed so much. Lopez and Marx’s earworm tunes, pitched peppily between theatrical pop and the comforting tum-ti-tum-ti tunes of kids TV, retain their sparkle and freshness.

It’s surprising how much you become invested in relationships between puppets, whether it’s recent graduate Princeton and feisty cutie Kate Monster (Noah Harrison, in a remarkable professional debut, and rising star Emily Benjamin) or freewheeling Nicky (Charlie McCullagh) and closeted Rod (Harrison again), the mis-matched roommates clearly modelled on Sesame Street’s Bert and Ernie. McCullagh also plays, brilliantly, the far-more-endearing-than-he-should-be Porn-obsessed Trekkie Monster, like your worst Muppet nightmare made flesh, I mean fur. The astonishing Benjamin also doubles as pneumatic Lucy,  investing her with a world-weary drawl and diva vocals. Rick Lyons’ puppets remain largely unchanged, but why mess with perfection. 

The humans are fun too. Dionne Ward-Anderson is more “yass kween” fabulousness than dejection as Gary Coleman, the former TV child star now reduced to working as a handyman and selling his possessions on Facebook Marketplace, but she works the audience like a total star. Oliver Jacobson is a hoot as would-be comedian Brian.

Maybe best of all, Amelia Kinu Muus is take-no-prisoners jaw-dropping as his fiancée Christmas Eve, the fierce but golden-hearted Japanese therapist. A glorious comedienne with a singing voice like cream about to sour, Kinu Muus reinvents probably the most problematic character out of this cast of adorable oddballs, playing her with a magnetic combination of bat-s**t crazy, sweetness and, crucially, genuine intelligence. She’s gorgeous.

Anna Louizos’ urban brownstones set, spinning elegantly as lit by Tim Lutkin, and Stephen Oremus’ satisfying original orchestrations, add to the overall pleasure of a show that gets almost everything right. Jean Chan’s costumes are deceptively simple… but wait til you see what she created for a wedding. Paul Groothuis’ sound design ensures every witty, petty, heartfelt word registers.

Decades on, Avenue Q remains a delight, the theatrical definition of naughty but nice. Outrageous, smart and kind, it’s lovely to have it back.