The Menier Chocolate Factory has come up with the perfect foil to cold, dark winter nights: an evening of supreme silliness, with some surprisingly sophisticated illusions thrown in.
I say surprising; it is not surprising that, as with most Menier shows, this is a quality production with an attention to detail that raises it above some Christmas offerings. But given this is a show that revels in its own ridiculousness, it does become a surprise – pleasingly so – to find it comes with magic tricks that are truly impressive.
Let’s start with the ridiculous. Based on HG Wells’s 1897 novella, Ken Hill’s The Invisible Man is a play within a play, in which the Famous Follies – resident actors at the Empire in 1904 – stage, for our entertainment, the tale of the ‘orrible ‘appenings in the village of Iping. A tale of an outsider being driven to tyranny by a bunch of ignorant scaremongers, it tells what happens when the titular invisible man – the victim of a self-inflicted experiment – arrives in a backwater village and manages to make his invisible presence very much felt, if not seen.
Introduced by an MC and narrated by village scrounger Thomas Marvel (Gary Wilmot), the play within a play device offers a great excuse for plenty of silliness and farcical goings-on. Exaggerated rural accents, fake snow, truncheon-based violence, stick-on moustaches, a marvellous puppet dog and lots of good old-fashioned innuendo are embraced with vigour by the 10-strong cast.
Ian Talbot’s production is a truly ensemble effort, and all the cast give ample welly to the enjoyable proceedings. Jo Stone-Fewings as a nice-but-dim country squire and Gerard Carey as a closeted vicar are particular highlights, and it is not every day that you see Laurence Olivier Award-winning actress Maria Friedman having her bosom wiggled by an unseen force.
The production has employed the services of illusionist Paul Kieve for the magic side of things, which gives the invisible man a physicality even while remaining unseen. Books fly out of bookshelves, windows and doors open by themselves, handkerchiefs, guns and other ominous implements seemingly move on their own in the air, supposedly held by the invisible man. This enhances the silliness by demanding the cast summon all their physical comedy skills, lurching and jerking about the stage as though being kicked, hit or groped by the invisible man.
The cynical among us may be able to come up with explanations for some of the illusions (but why would you want to?), however the coup de théâtre at the end is truly remarkable, adding a wow factor to this cosy, jolly feast of fun.
CB