Carry On Nell Gwynn is saucy, gaudy fun
Nell Gwynn (Apollo Theatre) Girl Power turns panto
GIRL power is getting a good workout in the West End, with transfers of two shows about women doing it for themselves.
The first is Jessica Swale’s frisky play about 17th-century actress Nell Gwynn, which stars Gemma Arterton in the title role.
The other is the musical version of the Bob Hoskins and Judi Dench film Mrs Henderson Presents — the one about Soho’s tiny Windmill Theatre, kept open by highbrow erotica i n the Thirties and Forties.
The Nell Gwynn rags-toriches story originally starred the enchanting Gugu Mbatha-Raw as the proto Spice Girl who gives up being a Cheapside moll to flog oranges in london’s theatres, then finds work as an actress and winds up with a steady job performing in King Charles II’s boudoir. Outdoors at Shakespeare’s Globe, Nell’s irrepressible rise seemed bawdy and joyfully exuberant, but indoors on Shaftesbury Avenue it looks more like a pantomime. Still, it’s never less than good fun, with gaudy characters, satirical setpieces lampooning the King’s rival mistresses, and lashings of Carry On gags. I could have done with more grit invested in Nell, who is pitched s o mewhere between Barbara Windsor and Eliza Doolittle. But Arterton certainly rises to the occasion — especially when she lays off the comedy and turns on the taps. Until then it’s the batting eyelids that drive her performance, reducing Jay Taylor to rubble as the leading actor of the day, Charles Hart.
David Sturzaker as Charles II, though, is the real star turn for me. Where others serve up thick slices of theatrical ham, he is stately and boyish, potent and understated — with a wry twinkle in his eye.
This is not, however, an occasion for psychological insight and the tone of Christopher luscombe’s hearty production is best characterised by the wobbly flats, giant tassels and dripping velvet of Hugh Durrant’s louche design.
It may not be a defining show for Arterton, but it remains a very merry one.
Mrs Henderson Presents is a more compelling, four-star display of girl power at the Noel Coward Theatre. Its topless tableaux appear to be a hit less with dirty old men than with women of all ages – partly because, as writer-director Terry Johnson says, it’s more empowering than exploitative. It’s a performance that sets itself alongside Calendar Girls and The Full Monty, showing ordinary people breaking down personal boundaries.