The seventeenth-century garb and easily believed den of Restoration iniquity that awaits a wet and windswept audience inside the Baby Belly promises an onstage Black Adder, but sadly James Butlers script fails to live up to such a premise.
The beginning is a whirl of booming voices and dubious slapstick, during which very little sense of narrative is conveyed. However, it is eventually ascertained that Wolfio is an aspiring playwright. Haunted by his dead mother, Nimbus, and surrounded by a chorus of larger-than-life apothecaries, he attempts to stage his masterpiece. However, a murderous leading lady has other plans.
The well-meaning and high-energy cast certainly give their all, yet this is sometimes a little too much, and the constant barrage of gurning, shrieking and nudge-nudge wink-wink delivery soon begins to grate. The script certainly possesses no scholarly affectations, yet its nonetheless frustrating that Butler seems under the impression that the occasional hey nonny and well-timed thigh slap is a suitable substitute for Jacobean lexis. It appears the company have decided the premise theyve stumbled upon is so hilarious that theres little need to join the dots, with neither script nor performance showing signs of finesse.
There are moments to enjoy here Paul L Martins Nimbus (a dead ringer for Nursie) steals most scenes, and David Shuker plays the idiot soldier Crimbo with gusto. Butler also provides us with one soliloquy late on which suggests perhaps there is more to his versifying than first meets the eye, making the general lack of polish to this performance all the more frustrating. With so much to see at the Fringe I would struggle to recommend what is so clearly still a work in progress.
