Although a new theatre ought to be a cause for celebration, the Troubadour is a sterile stadium (capacity 1,200) in which Peter Pan’s lost boys have more reason to feel lost than usual. Sally Cookson’s National Theatre/Bristol Old Vic collaboration has flown in and has Peter, Wendy and others cruising 10 feet above our heads, winging their way across the auditorium. The flying is great fun to behold but the show is less compelling when their feet touch the ground. For in spite of ingenious ideas (possibly too many, with insufficient editing) and a talented cast, the production is, at the moment, incohesive and sometimes drags. I do, to some extent, blame the venue.
At least John Pfumojena’s Peter Pan is a scintillating Zimbabwean, wearing a green suit to trump Babar the elephant’s, who divertingly tries to get his stretchy shadow to stick to his trainers. Whenever he is on stage, the show comes alive. Daisy Maywood projects nicely as Wendy and Shiv Rabheru’s attention-seeking Tinker Bell, in flashing shower cap, boldly speaks his own language. Kelly Price as Captain Hook (and Mrs Darling) is satisfyingly evil with gold teeth, punky boots and a touch of Patti Smith to her singing. Apparently, Barrie intended this Mrs Darling/Hook doubling – Hook was not supposed to have been played by a man. In most Peter Pan productions, mothers are seen as soppily essential but, here, adults resemble noisy, silly, plaintive children who do not know how to put on bow ties, let alone know how to be parents. This production intriguingly respects Barrie’s view that mothers are, potentially, villains.
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