Return to the Forbidden Planet, based on the 1956 sci-fi film ‘The Forbidden Planet’, itself based on Shakespeare’s The Tempest (itself thought to be based on Erasmus’ Naufragium) is now based at the New Theatre. The programme for this 25^th anniversary tour promises “an alchemical blend of Shakespearean language, […] science fiction spoofing […] and good, old-fashioned rock’n’roll.” While, like most alchemy, it doesn’t quite live up to what it promises, the Olivier-award-winning musical does offer a fun evening of entertainment.

When The Forbidden Planet landed on silver screens in the fifties, it was at the cutting-edge of special effects technology. With matte painting, scale models, and an intricately-wired, budget-breaking suit for ‘Robby the Robot’, estimated to have cost MGM over $125,000 dollars, it was genuinely ground-breaking. The production at the New Theatre employs many of these original techniques to great effect; a model space shuttle ‘flies’ overhead, projections of painted backgrounds evoke hyperspace and desolate, alien worlds, while the character of the newsreader (played in this production by Queen’s Brian May), also appears via projector.

It must be said that while the lighting is slick, and the backgrounds are wonderfully evocative of the cel-painting that defined the sci-fi films of the fifties, it is the low-fi effects that are the most charming. Cast members shaking their microphone stands as the beast approaches (to simulate the vibrations), and officers threatening to shoot each other with hairdryers spray-painted silver were, for me, particular highlights.

While there’s much to be praised about the technical aspects of the show, there were also some strange decisions. Take microphones – there were either too few microphones, or too many cast members. Whenever a character needed to speak, they had to borrow (or share) a microphone with a character who had just spoken. Whether this was a conscious decision by the touring company, or a move to adapt to the kit available at the New Theatre, is unclear. Either way, it did prove a bit of an obstacle to the suspension of disbelief, when you could tell whose line was likely to be next by who was hurriedly striding over to whom with a microphone.

The songs are (no pun intended) the show’s forte. The cast are, without exception, talented multi-instrumentalists. Particular praise should go to Mark Newnham (in the role of Cookie), for his intricate guitar solos, Jonathan Markwood (in the role of Prospero), and Joseph Mann (as Ariel). The cast churn out seamless renditions of classics from the fifties and sixties, dropping riffs here, and hinting at chord sequences there, to include more modern references – from the Mission Impossible theme tune, to a brief interlude of Nirvana. Amidst this success, it is, perhaps, worth nothing that Return to the Forbidden Planet was the first West End show created specifically for a cast of actor-musicians.

The dialogue is a mixture of sci-fi B-movie and Shakespearean soliloquy. While some parts of the audience clearly take delight in spotting the classic lines (“two beeps, or not two beeps?” “that is the question”, and “But soft, what light through yonder airlock breaks?” being lines that garnered a particularly big reaction), the gimmick seriously hinders character development. Despite the players representing well-worn tropes (the evil scientist, the infatuated teenage girl, the valiant space captain, and the loyal robot/ Shakespearean trickster), it’s difficult to empathise with any of the characters – or to see them as anything other than talented multi-instrumentalists taking a forced break between songs to recite lines of Shakespeare out of context (some weird form of purgatory). Whereas, in Rocky Horror, one actually cares for the naïve newlyweds Brad and Janet, the magnetic Frank N’Furter, and the indentured Magenta and Riff-Raff, and while in Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens, one cares about the fate of the cadets (and the cabaret performers they are interrogating), the sketches of the characters in Return are too superficial for any real empathy or engagement.

The show is advertised as ‘fun for all the family’, and I do genuinely think the performance has something to offer for each age-group. Younger members would have a (tinsel-spangled) whale of a time following the props and the pantomime action. Older audience members might appreciate the music, and the references to the Bard and the silver screen.

In conclusion, if you liked the show the first time it appeared, you’ll still enjoy it. If you’re new to (this particular iteration of) the story, there’s a lot to enjoy – but don’t expect alchemy.