Imagine a family show that seamlessly blends laughter with spine-chilling moments—it’s a rare feat, but playwright Lewis Hetherington masterfully achieves it in his bold reimagining of the 18th-century fable Beauty and the Beast. But here’s where it gets controversial: while most adaptations lean into the story’s romantic undertones, Hetherington’s version dares to explore the complexities of love in all its thwarted, unrequited, and misunderstood forms. This isn’t your typical tale of feminine grace taming the beastly masculine; it’s a deeper, more nuanced exploration of connection and acceptance. And this is the part most people miss: the humor isn’t just for laughs—it’s a clever counterbalance to the eerie atmosphere, proving that a story can be both lighthearted and hauntingly serious.
Take, for instance, the hilarious yet relatable quirks of the characters. Baron Aaron (Tyler Collins) is in deep denial about his failing shipping business, a modern twist on financial woes. Beauty (Israela Efomi) clings to an etiquette manual titled How to Be a Lovely Young Lady, a charming nod to societal expectations. Her sister, Bright (Holly Howden Gilchrist), prioritizes inventions over emotional expressions, adding a layer of wit to their dynamic. Even the cat and dog (Michael Guest and Martin Donaghy) share a sweet, blossoming romance that tugs at the heartstrings. And let’s not forget Mrs. Flobberlyboo (Elicia Daly), whose penchant for modernist singing stands out against Nikola Kodjabashia’s otherwise angular score.
Here’s the twist: The Beast (Nicholas Marshall) is introduced with shadow-puppet ferocity and off-stage growls, only to appear in feathery turquoise with sticky-out ears and, later, a pink bow tie. It’s a bold departure from the typical menacing portrayal, inviting us to question our assumptions about what makes a character truly fearsome. Beauty’s affection for this forlorn creature feels less about taming and more about seeing beyond appearances—a refreshing take on love that challenges traditional narratives.
While some might miss the tension often associated with the Beauty/Beast relationship, Dominic Hill and Joanna Bowman’s staging more than makes up for it. Beneath the fun and musicality lies a serious, even scary, undercurrent. Rachael Canning’s set design, with its broken slats and deep perspective, creates a dreamlike, almost provisional world. The Beast’s palace is a labyrinth of shifting staircases and passageways, where doors—and the secrets they hide—constantly shift in and out of focus. Lizzie Powell’s gothic lighting amplifies the intensity, especially when Mrs. Flobberlyboo declares, “I’m not upset, I’m evil,” sending shivers down the spine.
As the sisters and their pets embark on an interspecies quest for the true meaning of love, the story becomes a nourishing tale of acceptance. Acted with urgency and wit, this production invites us to rethink what love and connection truly mean. But here’s the question: Does Hetherington’s focus on thwarted love diminish the story’s romantic core, or does it elevate it by making it more relatable? Let us know in the comments—this is one debate that’s sure to spark differing opinions!
