Is it time for the Potted franchise to be canned? What began back in 2006 with Potted Potter, a delightful, witty and affectionate parody of the first six of JK Rowling’s Harry Potter novels, complete with a game of quidditch, has since spawned Potted Pirates and Potted Panto. The latter was enjoyable and inventive, too, winning an Olivier award nomination for best family entertainment and playing expertly on the relationship between performers Dan Clarkson and Jefferson Turner, in which the latter acts as stooge to Dan’s bug-eyed daftness. The slight onstage testiness between the two has always been part of the Potted charm, which has extended to a stint for the duo as CBBC presenters.
But the joke wears a little thin in this latest offering, an elementary affair, co-written with Tom Clarkson, which owes something to the Reduced Shakespeare Company as it attempts to squeeze all 60 of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mysteries into 80 minutes. The problem is that unless you are an avid Conan Doyle fan, many of the stories will be unfamiliar, and it’s hard to see the joke if you know nothing of the original. After all, almost everyone knows something about Hamlet or A Midsummer Night’s Dream, even if they’ve never seen the plays, but fewer will be familiar with The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle or some of Conan Doyle’s even more obscure and preposterously plotted offerings. Particularly if they are eight years old.
You start to wonder who the target audience is for this show. For all its quick changes, silly wigs, ill-fitting hats and all-round ridiculousness this seems to be geared more at the parents than the kids, with several jokes about Benedict Cumberbatch.
The Clarkson/Turner double act is diluted by the introduction of a third player, the energetic and very capable Lizzie Wort, but more doesn’t necessarily mean merrier in a show where all three performers have to work increasingly hard for diminishing comic returns. In the end, Dan just dresses up as a bee and flits around a lot to raise some laughs.
It works and, yes, it’s pretty potty, but maybe our sleuth and his sidekick could investigate just who is being stung in a formula that appears to have mislaid its buzz.
• Until Sunday. Venue: Vaudeville, London. Buy tickets from theguardianboxoffice.com or call 0330 333 6906. Plus offer: two premium tickets for the price of one.
