Get all your news in one place.
100’s of premium titles.
One app.
Start reading
The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Entertainment
Ryan Gilbey

Tony! (The Tony Blair Rock Opera) review – Harry Hill puts the party into politics

Charlie Baker as Blair makes a grand gesture at the door of No 10 in Tony! (The Tony Blair Rock Opera)
Bopping vitality … Charlie Baker in Tony! (The Tony Blair Rock Opera) at the Park Theatre, London. Photograph: Mark Douet

Harry Hill and Steve Brown’s X Factor spoof I Can’t Sing! was hamstrung by having Simon Cowell as a producer. No such conflict in the duo’s follow-up, Tony! (The Tony Blair Rock Opera), which subjects the messianic ex-PM to a prolonged and enjoyable ribbing.

Charlie Baker brings the gormless, bopping vitality of Jack Black to the role of the former MP for Sedgefield, who drifts into public life to meet his hero “Mick Jaggers”. Returning to No 10 deranged and dishevelled after pledging solidarity with George W Bush over Iraq, he resembles a man who has sold his soul or had the most debauched weekend of his life. Or both.

Baker just about holds together a production with the jamboree-bag messiness of a student revue or a children’s party (there is balloon modelling courtesy of Peter Mandelson). The 10-strong cast, dressed uniformly in Blair’s suit and red tie, play everyone from Neil Kinnock to Diana, Princess of Wales (a standout turn from Madison Swan). Howard Samuels doubles up as puppet-masters Mandelson and Dick Cheney, and Holly Sumpton’s Cherie Blair comes on like Lady Macbeth crossed with The Liver Birds. In art as in life, Gordon Brown (Gary Trainor) gets a raw deal, calling for meaningful change while Blair – who bests him at the Granita dinner, staged here as a wrestling match – rides the celebrity cyclone.

Charlie Baker as Blair holds up a union-jack guitar in Tony! (The Tony Blair Rock Opera)
Celebrity cyclone … Tony! (The Tony Blair Rock Opera) at the Park theatre, London. Photograph: Mark Douet

The second act brings a double-whammy of numbers aiming for the bad-taste highs of The Producers or The Book of Mormon. Kill the Infidels, sung by Osama bin Laden and his Real Housewives spouses, is followed by a Groucho Marx-style Saddam Hussein crooning I Never Done Anything Wrong. Too often, though, the delivery props up lyrics that lack a certain comic gleam and precision.

Opening the show with Blair Methuselah-haired on his deathbed also whets the appetite for speculation about his dotage, which sadly never transpires. Still, it’s fitting that he is wheeled in on a gurney under a sheet, smoke swirling around him. The effect is very James Whale, neatly setting up the climactic suggestion that we voters are the Frankensteins who created this Prime Monster.

Sign up to read this article
Read news from 100’s of titles, curated specifically for you.
Already a member? Sign in here
Related Stories
Top stories on inkl right now
One subscription that gives you access to news from hundreds of sites
Already a member? Sign in here
Our Picks
Fourteen days free
Download the app
One app. One membership.
100+ trusted global sources.