Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, New Wimbledon Theatre, London
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Priscilla Presley is the ex-wife, or widow of Elvis, though she does look uncannily like a little sister. And you may have seen her in Dallas, or the Naked Gun movies.
She is, for panto purposes, a Wicked Queen "with a strange American accent" who comes on like a mini-Joan Collins, her spangled dresses slit from the waist, her crown a devil's headpiece, her best moment a down-and-dirty-ish version of "Trouble" with four bare-chested hunks in dark glasses.
And she doesn't mind being booed, even though she is a former Miss Tennessee. The Prince requests an audience. "He can have this one," she spits, "they're rubbish." That got us going all right, though I noticed a distinct diminution in the number of light-up swords and bracelets this year. It must be the recession.
Compared to the Birmingham Hippodrome's spectacular pantomime, say, there is a general sense of every expense being spared here. The stage is just about a-glitter, though, and there is a full complement of dwarfs, even though one of them wanders off.
"We're one short," shouts the Prof – Warwick Davis, game butt of Ricky Gervais' jokes – only to be reminded, "We're all short!" One of them is besotted with the Paralympian swimmer Ellie Simmonds, another talks of fighting off the goalies – picking on someone his own size (not), Manchester City's Joe Hart – when he means ghoulies.
The little people welcome the abandoned Snow White of Lizzie Jay-Hughes – who, confusingly, looks like Priscilla's younger sister – to the Madness song "Our House." After the interval, she's still scrubbing away while the dwarfs lie exhausted all over the place. It's been a hard night.
And when their cook and cleaner is found "dead" after biting the poisoned apple, one of them merely shrugs and says, "Oh well, looks like a takeaway tonight." The children love them, these lewd little people who don't even draw the line at impersonating Susan Boyle singing "I Dreamed a Dream".
There's a handy small band under David Roper, and director Ian Talbot has organised the coming and going efficiently, with a nice blue and silver royal wedding at the end that compensates for the low-tech Mirror on the Wall and the worst joke of the season (which I loved) from the comedian Jarred Christmas, the Queen's henchman.
To 13 January (0844 8717 646)
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments