ajhlovestheatre

BETTY BLUE EYES

Book by Ron Cowne and Daniel Lipman

Music and lyrics by George Stiles and Anthony Drew’s

Based on the Handmade film ‘A Private Function’ and the original story by Alan Bennett and Malcom Mowbray, adapted from the screenplay by Alan Bennett

Directed by Sasha Regan

Union Theatre London – until 22 April 2023

http://uniontheatre.biz/show/betty-blue-eyes/

I’ve tried so hard to love Betty Blue Eyes. When Cameron Mackintosh’s original production was in the West End back in 2011, directed by Richard Eyre and starring Sarah Lancashire and Reece Shearsmith, I went back more than once to try and pinpoint the magic and joy so many of my friends and colleagues were finding in it. To no avail: despite a handsome production, a strong company and a particularly beautiful central bit of non-human casting (more on that shortly), I found this workmanlike musical distillation of the post-war set film comedy A Private Function, remained, for me anyway, resolutely earthbound. Sure, it had some catchy tunes and amusing moments but the adoration it inspired in many other people who also really know their musical theatre pretty much eluded me.

To be honest, it still does, although Sasha Regan’s lovely new production makes a far more convincing case for it than the big budget original. If I still find it hard to get invested in the socially upward preoccupations of snobbish Joyce Chilvers and her milquetoast husband Gilbert (roles immortalised on screen by Maggie Smith and Michael Palin) or the shenanigans around a contraband pig (the titular Betty) being reared to feed local dignitaries at a feast to celebrate Princess Elizabeth (later QE2)’s wedding to Prince Philip, this new iteration has a lot of charm. It also tethers the show more closer to the uniquely English musical making traditions of Lionel Bart, Sandy Wilson and the Stratford East shows of Joan Littlewood rather than taking on Broadway at its own game, as the first production seemed to be doing.

There’s a considerable thrill to be had from seeing, at very close quarters, a cast of eighteen, unmic’d on a tiny stage, roaring through the production numbers, and Aaron Clingham’s slick three piece band brings a freshness and precision to George Stiles and Anthony Drewe’s toe-tapping tunes. The voices are uniformly magnificent. Kasper Cornish’s choreography matches the score in that it compounds every cliché in the book, but it does so with real flair and invention, and is some of the most striking work of it’s kind I’ve ever seen on a fringe stage. Reuben Speed’s split level set makes excellent, focussed use of the limited space available, and is atmospherically lit by Alastair Lindsay, conjuring up suggestions of parlours, pubs and barns out of the darkness and swirls of dry ice.

If Ron Cowne and Daniel Lipman’s book remains a bit of a plodder, and still has jarring inconsistencies in tone between gentle comedy, crudity and cruelty, Regan’s account of it is sensitive and smart, skilfully navigating between full company sections and more intimate sections. The mid-second act metamorphosis into domestic farce is particularly nicely done. The bewitching Betty, a sow with stunning blue eyes and a chronic wind problem, and the story’s catalyst, is embodied here as a rather beautiful, patchwork puppet (handled by Georgia Boothman), just lifelike enough to be relatable but not so real that the threat of her imminent demise verges on the distressing, although the constant meat references may turn the more delicate vegetarians stomach. The original production shot itself in the foot by having an animatronic Betty that was so cute, and responsive, that it pretty much voided any empathy one had for the human characters. This works so much better.

The cast do smashing work. Sam Kipling finds real emotion under Gilbert’s meek exterior, investing his second act cri de cœur solo “The Kind Of Man I Am” with authentic power. Amelia Atherton has star presence and a belting voice as Joyce. If she reads as a bit too young and uncomplicated, it does go some way towards excusing the woman’s unsympathetic behaviour. Already very good here, I suspect she’d rip the roof off a theatre in a more age appropriate role. Stuart Simons is hilarious as a particularly spiteful member of the local top brass, and David Pendlebury gets a lot of comic mileage out of Inspector Wormwold, all bent out of shape with his own importance and unresolved bitterness. Josh Perry is hugely likeable as a townsman whose devotion to the titular porker is pretty bizarre, and goes curiously unacknowledged.

The terrific 2015 Union production of the Viv Nicholson bio tuner Spend Spend Spend managed to improve on the overblown West End original, the snug confines of the venue helping to focus and amplify the piece’s strengths. The Union has since moved across the road but a similar thing has happened here, although it’s worth noting that anything that happens on the unraised stage floor (and there’s quite a lot) may be invisible if you’re not sitting in the front couple of rows. Betty Blue Eyes as a show is a bit parochial for my taste, but this is a very fine version of it, and the idea of famished Little Britainers turning on each other feels arguably more relevant now than it did back in 2011. I found it a cracking production of a so-so musical but fans of the original are unlikely to be disappointed.