Some stories are better known, and loved, in their adapted forms. This black-and-white speckled tale of dalmatians and dognapping is one of them. Originally a book by Dodie Smith in 1956, it has had several stage and screen makeovers though it is still arguably at its finest as the exquisite 1961 Disney cartoon.
So this family musical, adapted by Zinnie Harris, has form to live up to. It comes with lots of puppyish enthusiasm and Toby Olié’s adorable puppets, but it does not quite manage to melt our hearts in the way of its forebears.
There are few standout or sparky songs (music and lyrics by Douglas Hodge) while Johnny McKnight’s book is oddly bland. There are some puzzling directorial decisions by Timothy Sheader with what seems like too many people on stage – actors, puppeteers, musicians – and a lack of central focus or dramatic momentum. It is certainly enthusiastic and endearing but has the slightly low-budget, homespun look of a CBBC show.
There is little dance until 30 minutes into the show and then, when Liam Steel’s choreography kicks in, it is basic, with teen pop band style formations for the ensemble and no real wow factor.
Colin Richmond’s set is underwhelming, too; it is made up of this musical’s title, spelled out in letters that are turned around to form different settings but seem to litter the stage in block-like shapes.
Thank God for Kate Fleetwood’s Cruella de Vil (fur, stilettos, big wigs), who plays her part for kicks at first but brings a baroque darkness later on and channels the sinister energy of her creepy Disney cartoon forebear. It is hammy, and sometimes panto-ish, but it works. She also has an excellently jazzy voice in songs such as Für Fur but is the only character whose singing is showcased in the score. Harris’s updated story casts her as a social media influencer and this is promising but feels latched on, sometimes straining for its relevance and humour.
Dog owners Danielle (Karen Fishwick) and Dominic (Eric Stroud) remain faceless with little opportunity to shine while Cruella’s henchmen are her nephews, whose mother has died in a train crash, and whose backstory brings some darkly unsubtle lines about spinal injuries which verge on bad taste for a children’s show.
Most of the highlights come in Cruella’s scenes, with one wonderful moment in which her hot pink sports car comes together in parts held by the ensemble.
There is also the highlight of the show’s two canine leads, Pongo (head by Ben Thompson) and Perdi (voice by Emma Lucia), which are handsome creations. Their puppies are represented by 15 identical puppet heads which is cute, collectively, but they cannot develop any individuality and are limited in visual dexterity or spectacle. In fact, when actors appear dressed as the cavalry of canine heroes who rescue the puppies (boxing boxers, a tap-dancing pink poodle, etc) they bring much more humour and personality, but disappear quickly.
The show certainly improves as it goes along, and it works best as a children’s show: my two young nieces stayed hooked throughout on press night. So, perhaps a crowd-pleaser for the kids but one which may leave some parents wanting to go walkies.
101 Dalmatians is at Regent’s Park theatre, London, until 28 August.
