Hercules – Theatre Royal, London
Hercules is the Greek superhero known for his 12 labours. On a mythological mission to take his place among the Gods, he slays lions, decapitates many-headed serpents and bags Cerberus, the ferocious guard-dog of the underworld.
But now he’s been reduced from legendary hero to close to zero by a laboured new musical version of his derring-do, based on the 1997 animated Disney film.
Opening in the West End amid much fanfare last night, the man of the hour (sadly without his flying-horse Pegasus from the film), is reborn in the hunky shape of Luke Brady. He comes with orthodontic gleam, oiled skin and a voice of molten sugar.
Instead of colossal strength, he’s admired for his style – his toga is a ‘Hermes original’ – and amusingly, he gives autographs on tablets using a hammer and chisel. But he’s such a placid soul, it’s hard to be excited by his quest.
Poor guy really needs a booster rocket. But while in the film he had Danny DeVito voicing his half-man, half-goat personal trainer Phil, stage Phil is a grumpy restaurateur running a mid-range taverna called Medusa’s.
Trevor Dion Nicholas makes a decent fist of the role, but it’s all a bit low key, low energy and low stakes.
As love interest Meg, Mae Ann Jorolan is a predictably hard-assed surly girly burdened with the limp catchphrase ‘stay safe, wonderboy’.
Stephen Carlile adds spice as a Vincent Price-like Hades, and makes something of his panto-villain gags – including the groanworthy verdict on baby Hercules: ‘So strong he could be a single mother.’
Pillars and statuary, shifting about in front of mosaic skyscapes designed by Dane Laffrey, add visual glitter. But the superhero action sequences are lugubriously undercharged, leaving Brady sleepwalking through adventures.
Hercules has been reduced from legendary hero to close to zero by a laboured new musical version of his derring-do, writes Patrick Marmion
Opening in the West End amid much fanfare last night, the man of the hour (sadly without his flying-horse Pegasus from the film), is reborn in the hunky shape of Luke Brady
Music and lyrics by Alan Menken and David Zippel are audaciously bland. And with the five gospel-singing muses adding diva-ish decibels, I couldn’t make out what they were singing.
Brady is almost alone in making his lyrics understood – particularly in a rendition of his misty-eyed anthem, Go The Distance.
A tap-dancing number in Hades before the interval attempts to scorch the infernal dance floor, but fizzles, thanks to director Casey Nicholaw’s zestless choreography.
After that we get a so-so R&B company number, followed by a Motown-style love song, redeploying the muses’ decibels in a romantic garden.
But all these moments lack the power and pageantry of Disney’s other theatrical hit, The Lion King. Simba’s underpowered sibling needs to go back to the gym and bulk up.
