Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

There’s something both shameless and sensational about Chitty Chitty Bang Bang that makes resistance ultimately futile. Though I wasn’t entirely swept away when I first saw it on opening night in 2002, two and a half years later I am now surrendering to its frequently overblown, occasionally mechanical, charms.

For make no mistake: in an age of musical downsizing, this show delivers big in every department. Sure, it’s all laid out in front of you so literally that it leaves little scope for the audience to activate its own imagination – but then why does it need to work when so much work is being done for you?

Here, you both get what you see and see what you get: between an adult cast of 40+ actors, plus a rotating kids’ ensemble of 17, a robust-sounding orchestra of 20, and even a teaming pack of dogs, every nook and cranny of the vast stage and pit of the London Palladium are entirely filled, with the action even extending beyond the footlights as far as the theatre’s roof.
And that’s before you even mention the eye-popping spectacle of Anthony Ward‘s incredible sets and costumes.

Adrian Noble‘s production remains in gleaming, well-drilled shape. Jason Donovan, returning to the stage where he took the town in 1991 in a loincloth in the revival of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, now stays fully dressed as he graduates into the adult role of single parent and inveterate inventor Caractacus Potts. Though his quietly earnest rendition of Hushabye Mountain made me realise for the first time how similar that song is to Joseph’s Close Every Door, he brings a sweaty vigour to Me Ol’ Bamboo.

Though mostly drawn in cartoon strip characterisations, Christopher Biggins and Louise Gold have campy fun with the roles of the villainous Baron and Baroness Bomburst, while Stephen Gateley brings a more dark-hued quality to the sinister Childcatcher, though there was a touch of Taboo‘s Leigh Bowery in his make-up.

– Mark Shenton

NOTE: The following review dates from September 2003, cast changes may have occurred please see listings for up to date details.

Seeing Chitty Chitty Bang Bang for a second time proves that, however intentionally silly and over-produced this musical is at times, it certainly delivers in terms of sheer spectacle. This is undoubtedly not only the biggest show in town, but also offers the capital’s single most amazing theatrical effect in the flying car.

If size isn’t always everything, it is here – but Adrian Noble‘s production also has some heart and a little art. That’s partly thanks to a cracker of a new cast who are clearly enjoying the luxury of being in a genuine hit that exerts a genuine grip on its rapt audience. Everyone on stage is having a great time, and it’s infectious.

Though the star is still the car, it’s now flown with incredible relish and goodwill by the perpetually smiling Gary Wilmot, while such terrific talents as Russ Abbot (as Grandpa Potts), Wayne Sleep (the Child Catcher), Victor Spinetti and Sandra Dickinson (as the Baron and Baroness) have a high old time in their supporting roles, taking flight in their own ways (and in Sleep’s case, literally being hoisted all the way to the theatre’s dome). There’s also the truly scrumptious Caroline Sheen in the role of, naturally enough, Truly Scrumptious.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang remains the perfect family show.

– Mark Shenton

NOTE: The following review dates from April 2002 and this production’s premiere at the London Palladium.

Yes, the car does fly – twice. And no, you can’t see how (or not very easily)! Fully laden with three adults and two children, it even comes out over the front few rows of the stalls, does a U-turn and heads for the stage ceiling. In a four-fendered flash, The Phantom of the Opera‘s plummeting chandelier and Miss Saigon‘s helicopter are erased from theatrical folklore.

The vehicle in question is, of course, the titular Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, which an eccentric single-parent inventor, Caractacus Potts (Michael Ball), is now turning into a flying machine to the amusement of his twin children and soon-to-be-mistress, Truly Scrumptious (and with a name like that, she could be a Bond girl; not for nothing, of course, was original author Ian Fleming also responsible for creating Bond. As one astute capsule review of the film of Chitty summarises its plot, “James Bond goes to Romper Room”).

But the show itself frequently sinks. And occasionally, stinks: literally so. As yet another of Carcactacus’ inventions goes up in smoke, a heavy smell of sulphur pervades the London Palladium’s soporific air, and this stage adaptation of the much beloved 1968 children’s movie musical rarely rises above it.

Director Adrian Noble – slumming it from his day job running the RSC – and most especially his designer Anthony Ward certainly give you an eyeful, but other adult senses are little engaged. As rather camp, corny spectacle – complete with the kind of chorus dancing (courtesy of choreographer Gillian Lynne) that is straight out of panto-land – it works a treat. And children – the target audience – will undoubtedly be beguiled.

In the theatre, however, less is often more; and here, more is definitely less. Sure, you can see every penny of your ticket price on stage: not just the bedazzling sets, but also a cast of 46, not to mention 17 children and even a full set of live dogs (eat your heart out, Cats). But the creative team of this musical are so busy creating, they’ve left nothing to the imagination. The result is a very literal translation of the film, which in the process turns it into more of an overproduced pantomime than a fully realised musical. (The audience quickly gets the idea and starts hissing the villains and clapping along to the tunes.)

In the circumstances, there isn’t much opportunity for individuality in the performances from an on-paper top-notch cast including Ball, Anton Rodgers, Richard O’Brien, Edward Petherbridge and Brian Blessed – most of whom resort to caricaturing their film equivalents. Only Nichola McAuliffe – outrageously funny as Baronesss Bomburst – wins through, almost effortlessly stealing every scene she’s in.

– Mark Shenton