West End theatre review

On TV it portrays the Royal Family as a heightened soap opera; in the new stage version, The Windsors mixes in elements of Shakespearean historical drama and pantomime, too.

Camilla is the Lady Macbeth, manipulating her feeble-minded husband in her plot for absolute power once he takes the throne after his mother’s abdication. That the Duchess of Cornwall is depicted as an even bigger villain than Prince Andrew may seem a little harsh, but wild exaggerations are built into the genes of this broad comedy.

Meanwhile, it’s down to Wills and Harry and their wives to put their feuds behind them to tackle the existential threat to the nation posed by the new King and his scheming consort.

So much for a plot that, though thin, creaks under its preposterousness at times. However, no one’s really here for story. The caricatures are broad and scurrilous, the insults pointed, and the gags rude and crude - all making ribald fun in a show that takes itself even less seriously than the archaic notion of Monarchy itself.

Topical jokes abound, right down to the ‘Noncegate’ headlines from that very morning about Prince Andrew being sued by Virginia Guiffre, one of Jeffrey Epstein’s victims. 

The scandal forms the B-plot, as Bea and Eugenie try to clear their father’s name, so convinced of his innocence they’ll sing it from the rooftops – one of several jaunty, if forgettable, musical numbers here. The running joke, as on TV, is that the Sloaney York siblings, played by Jenny Rainsford and Eliza Butterworth, are so posh they can barely pronounce common words, a gag that - perhaps surprisingly - doesn’t get old.

Needless to say, this is not a show for Royalists. The roars of derisory laughter that greet Harry and Meghan from the moment in yoga poses demonstrate just how much of a laughing stock their new-agey utterings have made them, even before George Jeffrie and Bert-Tyler Moore’s script can wreak its full mischief.

The star of the show is Harry Enfield, reprising his role as Prince – now King – Charles. Donning the finest prosthetic ears in the West End, he largely walks around in a daze of benign bewilderment, perhaps wishing he was chatting to the hydrangeas, but occasionally emitting an intolerant bark about some subject or other. A perfectly pitched performance in other words. 

But the spotlight is stolen by Tracy-Ann Oberman,  camply evil as the pantomime baddy. Meanwhile Matthew Cottle exudes an eager underdog vibe as Prince Edward, trying to relive his time working for Andrew Lloyd-Webber. He’s sometimes bit-part actor, sometimes chorus fleshing out the story.

With a strong sense of impish contempt throughout, every real-life reference is warmly received, from Andrew’s Pizza Express alibi (‘Woking’ is rhymed with ‘groping’ in the lyrics) to the reported bad blood between Meghan and Kate.  

The show’s probably less strong when it deviates from reality to service the plot, but needs must – and often these scenes are played out with a slapstick glee, from the young royals’ ‘snogathon’ in a tent to a catfight between the two Duchesses (Kara Tointon and Crystal Condie). This is not subtle, even by the show’s  lax standards, yet even in their grotesques, the family members have surprisingly endearing humanity.

It’s patchy, but mostly frivolous fun, right down to the curtain call, when Enfield demands the tables be turned and the audience bow at the cast, as royal protocol surely demands. 

• The Windsors is at the Prince Of Wales Theatre until October 9. Tickets.

Review date: 11 Aug 2021
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett