ajhlovestheatre

Disney’s HERCULES

Music by Alan Menken

Lyrics by David Zippel

Book by Robert Horn and Kwame Kwei-Armah

Based on the Disney film

Directed by Casey Nicholaw

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London – booking until 28 March 2026

running time: 2 hours including interval 

https://www.herculesthemusical.co.uk

Some musicals feel organic, transporting, touched by a divine spark of inspiration while others come across as mechanical and formulaic. Despite its subject matter and beloved source material, Hercules, the high budget Disney confection newly ensconced in the West End, falls into the latter category. It’s not a bad show – it’s fast-paced and entertaining, with a large, talented cast working their Grecian sandals off – but few of the world class creatives are delivering their best work here. 

Director Casey Nicholaw’s visually attractive staging is loud, shiny and energetic but, like Alan Menken’s frequently rousing music, seems generic, never throwing up anything really distinguished or memorable, except for the five Muses (Candace Furbert, Sharlene Hector, Brianna Ogunbawo, Malinda Parris, Robyn Rose-Li), scintillating Black divas who ought to have their own show. Nicholaw’s dances are standard Broadway-style showbiz, decorative if over-familiar by now, but co-choreographer Tanisha Scott’s hiphop-infused contributions kicks up the dynamism several notches, especially in the uplifting act one finale when the Muses swagger and stomp on like a quintet of celestial cheerleaders, to the unbridled joy of the audience.

Robert Horn and Kwame Kwei-Armah’s book makes a reasonable fist of translating the cartoon film to the stage, but there’s even less heart here than there is on screen; the budding romance between Luke Brady’s hunky Hercules and Mae Ann Jorolan’s strongly independent Meg goes for very little. Despite the Ancient Greek setting, the original screenplay was always jokey and all-American, and the script here is even more determined to fling more gags at the audience than is strictly bearable or even funny (although some of them admittedly are). In that sense, it’s reminiscent of the recent Shucked, which was also Horn’s work, where joke after joke took precedence over plot or characterisation. It’s hard to imagine what Kwei-Armah’s contribution here was, but it certainly doesn’t seem to be anything to do with dramaturgy or pace of storytelling, both of which are pretty ropey.

David Zippel’s lyrics are genuinely witty although the booming, synthetic sound design renders them mostly indecipherable. Menken’s eclectic tunes are easy on the ear but mainly unmemorable, nearer in character to his decent but uninspired work on Sister Act than his really outstanding scores like Little Shop of Horrors or Disney’s own Beauty and the Beast. As in the film, the astonishing vocal performances of the Muses elevate the musical material.

Brady is perfect casting as Hercules, radiating a sunny cluelessness that it’s hard not to be charmed by. He’s beautiful but goofy, and it works. Jorolan, who previously played Meg in the German production, has a tendency to swallow her lines which becomes frustrating but possesses undeniable leading lady charisma, and Trevor Dion Nicholas has a ball as Phil, the innkeeper reluctantly tasked with training Hercules for his potential return to his Mount Olympus home. Stephen Carlile, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Alan Rickman, is more bitchy than properly evil as scheming God of the Underworld, Hades (he’s way more fun but a lot less threatening than the other Hades currently portrayed on the other side of the West End in Hadestown).

The visual colour scheme for Olympus is azure blue and burnished gold, with earthy tones for the bits amongst the mere mortals, and murky darkness leavened with greens and mauves for the Underworld. It all looks a treat (set by Dane Laffrey with giant Grecian columns in perpetual motion, lighting by Jeff Croiter) and, although overused, George Reeve’s video design has the lovely detail of making every landscape and moon lit sky look as though they’re composed of Greek mosaic. The costumes (Gregg Barnes and Sky Switser) and wigs and hair design (Mia M Neal)  are fabulous: colourful, inventive and frequently outrageous. The giant puppets by James Ortiz are bold and effective, but, apart from the multi-headed hydra, more cute than scary. Indeed, there seldom feels like there’s much at stake throughout the entire evening.

Although it was an accusation frequently levelled at Disney’s Aladdin onstage (which was a much better show), this truly does feel like a pantomime more than a coherent musical. It’s glossy, undemanding and, as long as you don’t overthink it, reasonably good fun, but has the uneasy sense of being a theme park show on a massive budget. It never quite lifts off the ground the way really satisfying tuners do, but it’s an enjoyable, colourful couple of hours that’ll keep this most venerated of West End venues warm until the next really special large scale production comes in.