Review of the puppet caricatures's first stage venture

With its fantastic latex caricatures brought to life by astonishingly talented puppeteers and gifted impersonators, the live version of Spitting Image is a triumph of technical ingenuity.

Such skill and effort is – however – deployed to bring to impressive life a script that’s remarkably patchy. When a single gag might require detailed models to be created, props and scenery to be fashioned and a team to work out every detail of staging it. you might expect drum-tight material, but much of Idiots Assemble has a first-draft ‘will this do?’ quality.

That said, there’s plenty to enjoy too, with enough good jokes to believe something excellent is possible, and several memorable set pieces making the most of the theatrical setting and the caricaturists’ art. Among them are the Circle Of Life parody, Circle Of Jerks, parading strange and creepy creatures from the Tory ranks around the auditorium; the parody of the Queen’s Paddington sketch or the gloriously bad-taste song-and-dance number that has Carrie Johnson explaining how men think with their dicks. Even an obvious song parody such as Putin On The Blitz shines with its glitz, commitment and inventive Cossack dancing.

But sketches are linked with a laboured storyline with considerable chunks that struggle to land a punch, making the show sluggish – a surprise given its writers are Al Murray, Sean Foley and Matt Forde. The script can be updated to include topical references, such as Nicola Sturgeon’s resignation – requiring the impersonators to tweak the prerecorded dialogue – but it may be harder to do the necessary root-and-branch rewrite once you’ve committed to all the technicalities.

Nonetheless, this is said to be the third major rewrite of the stage show – changes enforced by political turmoil more than a quest to punch up the gags. It was originally due to focus on the scandals surrounding Boris Johnson’s Premiership, which were deemed passé after he resigned last year.

The plot now is that King Charles has become so dismayed at the dismal state of the fabric of society – very literally represented by a pair of soiled underpants – that he calls on lantern-jawed Tom Cruise and, for some reason, Ru Paul to assemble a magnificent seven to bring down those responsible. This cabal of baddies is led by Boris Johnson, supported by schoolboy lickspittle Rishi Sunak, and includes Donald Trump, Mohamed Bin Salem, Rupert Murdoch, Elon Musk and, most wicked of them all, James Corden. That’s easy to believe. Johnson as an evil mastermind, not just a shameless amoral chancer, requires a greater leap of faith.

The recruitment of the avengers to take this cartel down occurs via an almost endless Britain’s Got Talent parody in which various candidates state their case. The parade of celebrities should be quickfire scene, as they rattle through the famous faces, but almost every gag is a dud, and it feels interminable. The ensemble we end up with, including Idris Elba, Tyson Fury and Meghan (who gets off pretty lightly, given the target she presents) aren’t supposed to make sense, and nor do they.

Some puppets in the Britain Needs Saving skit and elsewhere seem to make an appearance only because they exist and might as well get a run-out before they’re melted down for condoms. Dominic Cummings (remember him?) shuffles out of No10 just mentioning Barnard Castle - a punchline that, like ‘Pizza Express Woking’ now no longer needs the effort of being attached to an actual joke – and is never seen again. There are more than 100 fabulous puppets here, so in the clamour to get them all on stage there’s not much space for more than a cursory gag.

Many of the best gags are visual, or stem from the creation of exaggerated yet strangely credible personas. Suella Braverman as a Victorian doll-child possessed by a Satanic force is surprisingly credible, Liz Truss and Jacob Rees-Mogg make excellent cameos, Keir Starmer is so delightfully boring he even makes grey John Major look charismatic. Talking of whom, the legacy of his seven years leading he nation is wonderfully summed-up by everyone hilariously referring to him as ‘the egg-lady fucker’.

There are a lot of such moments, but many more that director Foley could happily ditch, such as Greta Thunberg’s dreary version of Toto’s song Africa.

It probably was ever thus in the world of Spitting Image. The rose-tinted spectacles of hindsight mean we’ve forgotten how patchy the original was over its 18 ITV series – though the recent Britbox revival might have served as a reminder. What is difference is the expectation of watching half an hour of fast-turnaround TV based on the last week’s news for free in your armchair and spending up to £55 a seat at the theatre. Even so, the financial margins here must be Rizla-thin.

The two-hour narrative this requires is what hampers it. If the alternative – a series of sketches – would seem bitty, that’s not a fate the finished production has escaped, despite a generous smattering of outlandish moments gleefully torching any dignity or respect our public figures might crave.

• Spitting Image Live: Idiots Assemble is at the Birmingham Rep until March 11. For ticket information, click here.

Review date: 17 Feb 2023
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Birmingham Repertory Theatre