The Crown Jewels review: Royal comedy is lacklustre, but Al Murray and Mel Giedroyc still sparkle

The Crown Jewels is not pretending to be subtle. After all, this is a historical comedy written by the creator of Men Behaving Badly and starring a cast of comedians; broad, slapstick humour is what the audience should expect. But despite this, Simon Nye’s first original play somehow manages to be tame, obvious and impenetrable at the same time, leaving the actors flailing as they try to mould the bland script into something worthwhile. With stand-up comic Al Murray (in his West End debut) and Mel Giedroyc leading the cast, you should, at least, hope for something funny, but the moments of humour are few and far between. Anyone expecting a right royal knees up will be sorely disappointed.

The audience is welcomed into Sean Foley’s production by the tinkling of a harpsichord and a richly adorned set. The year is 1671; the true story we’re about to be told follows King Charles II (Murray). The flirtatious monarch, with a luscious wig tumbling over his shoulders and a penchant for squeezing innuendos into every sentence, awaits his coronation. Unluckily for him, Irish army officer Colonel Thomas Blood (Aidan McArdle) is hatching a treasonous plan to steal them.

That’s the basic version of the plot, anyway. You’d have trouble keeping track of anything more complex from Nye’s confusing script. It’s not aided by the play’s time-jump structure, which, when paired with multi-roling within the cast, makes it unclear who anyone is playing at a given time. The dialogue is stilted, the characters are basic archetypes (the women in particular are the doting bedchamber maid, the stroppy daughter, the sassy actress), and scenes often end mid-thought.

And then… there are the songs. As the show opens with Carrie Hope Fletcher belting out praises to the slovenly king, the woman next to me whispers that she “didn’t know this was a musical”. Spoiler: it’s not! These insipid musical theatre imitations are peppered throughout simply to give Fletcher alone (the original “Bad” Cinderella in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s doomed production) a chance to show off her undeniably strong voice.

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Fletcher does her best with the little she’s been given, but there are a number of acting and directorial decisions elsewhere I wouldn’t even give that credit. The conspiratorial trio of McArdle, Neil Morrissey and Joe Thomas are the biggest offenders and largely resort to shouting at each other in an attempt to inject some volume (not to be mistaken for enthusiasm) into Nye’s plodding script.

There is, however, a saving grace to The Crown Jewels: Murray and Giedroyc. It’s hard not to be charmed by Murray, as he purrs in RP and riffs with the audience, insisting with heavy irony that “unlike most members of the monarchy, I understand common people”. Mel Giedroyc, too, is at her physical comedy peak here, she and Murray wringing out the sub-par script for all it’s worth. Still, it’s telling that the funniest moments in the show come when Murray and Giedroyc are allowed to just improvise. No script could dull their sparkle, even when The Crown Jewels elsewhere struggles to shine.

Garrick Theatre, until 16 September