Hard to believe but true. The most surprising moment in wonder.land is when a puppet baby does a spectacular projectile vomit. Equally unlikely: this extravaganza, a revised version of the show seen at the Manchester international festival, is directed by Rufus Norris. In London Road, Norris created one of the most imaginative, and low-tech, pieces of musical theatre of the last 10 years.
It starts with a good wheeze. Virtual reality is the new babbling unconscious. You can vanish into an online world rather as Lewis Carroll’s Alice disappeared down a rabbit hole. There you can be whoever you want. So dulcet-voiced Lois Chimimba acquires a Princess avatar to make her feel better about being bullied at school. But then her martinet headmistress, Anna Francolini, her acting as sharp as her bob, also goes online.
Rae Smith’s set, Katrina Lindsay’s costumes and 59 Productions’ huge projections create a woozy fluorescence. The online Cheshire cat has a grin like a five-barred gate; the in-flesh caterpillar is inventively realised as six swivelling ballet dancers. The swim of images is diverting rather than exciting. It is not sufficient to distract from didacticism. This sometimes feels less like a show than a project. Moira Buffini’s script overemphasises the worthy injunction to be yourself. Damon Albarn’s one-size-fits-all music – partly electronic, partly music hall – does not wire you into plot or characterisation.
The Alice books are transfixing because, like a dream, they sidle between the recognisable and the bizarre. The movement of life is the movement of thought: enlarging, diminishing and warping. This wonder.land just wheels on one strange thing after another. Mostly pink or purple. Mostly accompanied by an oompah.
