Theatre Review: Betty Blue Eyes

Did you see Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland last year?

If so, you’ll know exactly how the audience feels at the end of Betty Blue Eyes.

Burton’s Alice seems to be everything we want it to be, clever, inventive, whimsical, respectful of the source material… but then this happens.

The Mad Hatter dances.

Dances.

The effect is one akin to seeing your favourite member of Girls Aloud shitting in a bucket, and for some reason, Betty Blue Eyes director Richard Eyre has chosen to include something similar, but more on that later.

Betty Blue Eyes is a retelling of the 1984 British film A Private Function (scripted by Alan Bennett), and sticks with the basic idea of a chiropodist and his wife stealing a pig that is being reared illegally for a royal wedding banquet. Much play has been made of the similarities between the Britains of 1947 and 2011; in ’47 the country was rebuilding itself after the war, and while we’re not experiencing anywhere near the same kind austerity (I fear huge swathes ofthe population would die if meat rationing was reintroduced. No McDonalds – what would they do?!), it would be unrealistic to ignore the connections. And, of course, now, as then, we are in middle of the almost unbearable hype surrounding a Royal wedding.

The atmosphere of stringent penny-pinching extends to the action onstage too, with relatively sparse sets and an economical approach to songwriting. While it’s obviously a conscious decision, it wouldn’t come as a great surprise if it was a necessity after the huge expense of Betty herself. Producer Cameron Mackintosh has spent a reported £200,000 on a pair of animatronic pigs who will oink, squeal and flutter their eyelashes on cue. This is both a blessing and a curse. While having a fake pig means there aren’t the attendant issues (misbehaviour, mess, etc…), the undeniably cute Betty creates a problem – one that we encountered most recently with The Wizard of Oz; every time the damn thing appears, half the audience feels the need to go ‘OOOOOH’, like a child at their first firework display. Furthermore, should a robot get the biggest applause at the end of a performance?

Certainly not when the rest of the cast is as strong as this. While the big names are The League of Gentlemen’s Reese Shearsmith and Corrie/Where The Heart Is alumna Sarah Lancashire (both very funny), the real star is Adrian Scarborough as the government meat inspector Mr Wormold. He is by turns creepy, threatening, pathetic and hilarious, and is by far the show’s stand-out. Also very deserving of a mention is Jack Edwards who imbues tubby Henry Allardyce with real heart and who has a wonderful high tenor.

Betty Blue Eyes is a very, very funny musical with a fantastically British sensibility and while watching it, I found myself smiling for no real reason – it’s just one of those shows that engenders a sensation of delight. But now we come to the Mad Hatter moment.

Throughout the performance, the pig just does what real pigs do; aside from having nicer eyes than the average sow, it’s a fairly unremarkable creature. However, when we get to the end of the show, the pig sings.

Sings.

It’s a moment that at once destroys the world the production has created, crushes the goodwill of the audience (or, at least, the audience that aren’t fucking idiots) and cheapens the whole musical. It’s a moment so monumentally stupid and embarassing to watch that it’s actually uncomfortable and the sooner it’s cut from the show, the better. If I squirmed in my seat any harder I would have ended up sitting on the Piccadilly line.

The pig’s voice is provided by Kylie Minogue, which probably cost Cam Mac a fair bit, but still, sometimes it’s best to cut your losses.

Betty Blue Eyes is a quintessentially British show, and a hell of a lot of fun, but if you go, leave before the last 30 seconds.

You can book tickets to Betty Blue Eyes here