It’s Wellywood 2025 and all is not well in the city. People are struggling, homelessness is rife and the landed gentry are hoarding wealth. It’s a city of the “wealthies” and the “poories”.

Enter Robin Hood. Determined to stop the evil Sheriff of Wellywood from running roughshod over the citizens, our hero must first navigate a flurry of archery, sword fights and dance numbers.

This is the premise of Circa Theatre’s 2025 pantomime – a continuation of its annual tradition of over-the-top, campy and very riotously funny shows that throw everything at the nation’s capital. [More]

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer

A massive tree trunk, cleanly sawn through, sets the stage for Circa Theatre’s Robin Hood: The Pantomime. The growth rings reveal it is hundreds of years old. Later there is a strong hint it was a totara, felled on orders from the dastardly Sheriff of Wellywood to build his big Ball Room in place of the demolished East Wing.

Yes, there are many references to size of his balls – neatly pitched, it must be said, by the extremely accomplished cast. Naughty puns nod to the adults; for the kids I’d say they need to know the story already to follow the truncated but lively plot (script by Simon Leary and Gavin Rutherford). Meanwhile the archetypal characters strut and flounce their stuff with flair, their relationships are clear, the action is dynamic, and they sing and dance up a storm (directed by Leary; choreography by Natasha McAllister and Jthan Morgan).

This year the contained vitality of Michael Nicholas Williams isn’t live at the side of the stage but his musical arrangements and direction are fully present. Let’s call him Schrodinger’s Muso: both there and not there. The same can also be said, as always, for the excellent design talent, visible in Kate Anderson’s set design, Marcus McShane’s lighting and Sheila Horton’s costumes; audible in Oliver Devlin’s sound design.  

Aimée Sullivan’s instantly comical squat Lil’ Jon (no longer a joke name for the tallest ‘merry man’) arrives first to tell us, “I’ve never seen a diamond in the flesh …” and is joined by Bronwyn Turei’s overtly masculine Friar Tuck, with an obvious tonsure wig, and Kathleen Burns’ heroically strutting Robin Hood. Lorde’s ‘Royals’, with its ironic lauding of ruling class privilege, is an inspired choice for the opening number. And of course it’s Jthan Morgan’s Courtenay Place (the panto Dame), Maid Marian’s handmaiden, who thrills at the final line: “Let me live that fantasy.”

Courtenay Place’s welcoming monologue establishes Allan Street – or was it Blair? – as the husband who left her destitute, “A poor lonely widow woman”, eliciting our sympathetic “Oooohhh”s. The traditional front-row flirting with a likely lad trope is also there.

Natasha McAllister’s no-nonsense Maid Marian wants to know if everyone’s amped for the Archery competition and is gutted to discover The Sheriff has decreed only men may compete – which is why Friar Tuck is in drag as a male monk.

Jackson Burling is gloriously nasty as The Sheriff of Wellywood, luxuriating in his “hate, hate, hate” of Robin Hood because he takes from the rich to give to the poor. The competition is clearly aimed at defeating the upstart. He has also cut Friar Tuck’s job as Wellbeing Adviser with the Ministry of Hugs (for the moment, the political satire is even-handed).

The target, the arrows and where they end up are brilliantly staged with theatrical illusion. There could be more of a build-up to the apparent impossibility of Robin beating The Sheriff’s bullseye and more of a moment given to his splitting of the arrow. Taylor Swift’s ‘Look What You Made Me Do’ (“I don’t like your little games …”) emphasises the mutual dislike of the goodies and baddy.

There are love stories too, of course. Marian and Robin are clearly attracted to each other, but she’s committed to working on ‘the inside’ so she can secretly convey intelligence to Robin, so they have to repress their mutual ardour.

Courtenay has designs on the filthy rich Sherriff and he wants her to help with an evil plan … Cue more of ‘Look What You Made Me Do’: “I don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me / I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams …”

Robin’s direct address moment reveals how “being a hero is very complex” and allows us to consider Marian’s earlier caution about his virtue-signalling monologues. Should he be trying to do it all himself? Despite the ensemble numbers, it becomes apparent the ‘Merry Men’ have yet to come together. Although there is no log crossing a stream and “Let the best man go first” confrontation, a battle with staves and a frying man, good counsel from Marian, and a bit of peer pressure brings them together in common cause. Cue ‘Spice Up Your Life’ (the Spice Girls).

Three months pass and, what with The Sheriff fleecing the poor at every opportunity, Robin is finding being the local welfare distributor really taxing – ironically (just one of many clever quips in the script). He and Marian take a moment to share memories of when they were at Thorndon Primary together, and their mutual attraction surfaces, expressed through ‘You’re Still The One’ (Shania Twain). This is where Marian’s signature ‘flourish’ is established.  

Courtenay’s ‘fall from grace’ is spectacularly staged. She reveals her job is to spread misinformation, to trick Robin. ‘Made You Look’ (Meghan Trainor) conjures the ball at King Richard’s Castle where Friar Tuck gets drunk and L’il John meets Little Andrew (the Mayor, not the former prince) … And the building is surrounded by Guards (stage manager Marshall Rankin in Knight’s armour).

The Sherrif’s rendition of Robbie Williams’ ‘Let Me Entertain You’ morphs into snippets of ‘Look What You Made Me Do’ and Destiny’s Child’s ‘Survivor’ as The Sheriff glories in arresting Robin Hood.

Interval

It’s a poignant sight to find Robin shackled in a literal pit of despair; ‘Since U Been Gone’ (Kelly Clarkson) sets the tone. He’s a political prisoner and starving, prompting a well-placed ‘school lunches’ reference. Meanwhile Courtenay Place has looked south, twixt Kent and Cambridge, to adopt the persona of Queen Victoria, complete with posh accent.

You have to be there to find the answer to, “What’s a Metaphor?”

When Marian calls a ‘flat meeting’ – they are occupying a tent stage left – to ratify their idealistic pledge, we discover Tuck has eschewed her monkish habit to embrace “sacramental glamour”. Feeling free and imbued with a Saint Francisan love for nature … Let’s just say the fate of a mosquito is another moment you have to witness first-hand.  

The need for a hikoi established, young people in the audience are invited to join it. Their ability to quickly pick up the TikTokish moves to Jessie J’s ‘Price Tag’: “Just stop for a minute and smile / Why is everybody so serious? / Acting so damn mysterious …” is impressive. All hope is invested in the return of King Richard.

A Professor of Cunning from Cunning University (thank you Blackadder) is evoked, Marshall Law is personified (Rankin again), The Sheriff is presented with an official edict to sign, to the stirring strains of Sheppard’s ‘Geronimo’ – and at last King Richard returns in a full suit of armour! To his doom? Of course not, this is a pantomime! Let’s just say, for The Sheriff, “Pride comes before the curtain of the waterfall” (check the lyrics).  

That signature flourish reveals who is clad in the King’s armour. The amour between Marian and Robin prevails, a new Sheriff is appointed and Wellywood gets its first woman Bishop. Happy endings all round, celebrated in dance to a merry medley of songs from the show.

Robin Hood the Pantomime happily mocks the state of the nation and offers an antidote to it. Each actor claims their role to the full and their ensemble work, musicality and dance moves are exemplary. 

This is Circa’s third Robin Hood panto, the others being by Sir Roger Hall – in 2010 and 2015. Fans of political satire may be fascinated to compare them with this one.

Photos by Maeve O’Connor

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer