Edinburgh Playhouse
3 stars
“How much is beaver worth this year?” As an opening gambit for a young man en route to woo a wife, such a line is hardly a winner. Before long, however, wild man Adam has lured Milly into the outback where he and his six horny siblings live frat-pack style at the start of Lawrence Kasha and David S Landy’s stage version of this big screen staple of Sunday afternoon matinees. Milly tempts the boys into cleaning up their acts with only her hot muffins as weapons, and before long, these one-time sociopaths are all spruced up in vividly laundered shirts that make them look like they’re auditioning for a remake of The Monkees. A shame the boys more Neanderthal tendencies surface once more as courting turns to kidnapping the objects of their affections away for the winter.
With a fistful of influences gleaned not just from Plutarch, but an unholy alliance of the Bible, the Kama Sutra and apparently Benny Hill as well, Chris Hocking’s production of a show that’s been touring this country for more than twenty years is a lavish hybrid of gingham and cow-hide. So what if it wears its old-fashioned thigh-slapping misogyny on its chaps.
The numbers are bright, brash and as beautifully choreographed as any wild west show. Steven Houghton makes a hunkily unreconstructed Adam who leads Susan McFadden’s feistily conformist Milly a merry dance, even if his accent doesn’t always hold up. If it wasn’t for the three axe-heads that flew off mid wood-chopping routine on Tuesday night, things would have been even more rootin’-tootin’ly perfect than the happy families this seven plus seven added up to.
The Herald, September 12th 2008
ends
3 stars
“How much is beaver worth this year?” As an opening gambit for a young man en route to woo a wife, such a line is hardly a winner. Before long, however, wild man Adam has lured Milly into the outback where he and his six horny siblings live frat-pack style at the start of Lawrence Kasha and David S Landy’s stage version of this big screen staple of Sunday afternoon matinees. Milly tempts the boys into cleaning up their acts with only her hot muffins as weapons, and before long, these one-time sociopaths are all spruced up in vividly laundered shirts that make them look like they’re auditioning for a remake of The Monkees. A shame the boys more Neanderthal tendencies surface once more as courting turns to kidnapping the objects of their affections away for the winter.
With a fistful of influences gleaned not just from Plutarch, but an unholy alliance of the Bible, the Kama Sutra and apparently Benny Hill as well, Chris Hocking’s production of a show that’s been touring this country for more than twenty years is a lavish hybrid of gingham and cow-hide. So what if it wears its old-fashioned thigh-slapping misogyny on its chaps.
The numbers are bright, brash and as beautifully choreographed as any wild west show. Steven Houghton makes a hunkily unreconstructed Adam who leads Susan McFadden’s feistily conformist Milly a merry dance, even if his accent doesn’t always hold up. If it wasn’t for the three axe-heads that flew off mid wood-chopping routine on Tuesday night, things would have been even more rootin’-tootin’ly perfect than the happy families this seven plus seven added up to.
The Herald, September 12th 2008
ends
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