Goldilocks and the Three Bears, London Palladium, review: a smutfest in need of some discretion

Since its comeback in 2016 after 30 years, the London Palladium pantomime has acquired a reputation as the most audaciously smutty show on the West End.

This year’s production, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, certainly lived up to expectations, in terms of innuendo at least. Julian Clary resumed his post as the Palladium’s smut laureate, rattling through a comprehensive set of references to his ‘ring’ – he was ostensibly playing a circus ringmaster, although this seemed a matter of convenience.

Certainly Clary possesses a genuine talent for double entendre, but after the 10th or 20th joke about ‘swallowing swords’ or spending time under a ‘big top’ (circus tent), patience grew a little thin and laughs less frequent. The fairy tale itself was selected for the least demanding plot possible, with every spare second filled with a glitzy set-piece or variety act.

Goldilocks’s incursion into the three bears’ cottage is little more than an afterthought, hurried over amid an ambling premise about two competing circuses, one owned by Gary Wilmot’s Dame Betty Barnum, the other by Paul O’Grady’s evil Baron von Savage who wants to shut Betty down.

The circus offered a handy pretext to shoehorn every variety act available into the two and a half hour show. There were acrobatic skaters, death-defying motorcyclists, and dove-laden magicians. Goldilocks, played with great mock-sincerity by Sophie Isaacs, barely featured and was mostly a stooge for the nodding and winking headline stars – of whom it was difficult to keep track.

Director Michael Harrison had a monumental budget at his disposal, and spent every penny. Midway through the second act, a papier-mâché elephant the size of a bus wandered onstage, sprayed the audience with water, and sidled off 30 seconds later – one of many stunning set changes from the tireless backstage team.

Of the various star performances, Wilmot stood out with his unexpectedly brilliant ‘all-the-show-tunes’ song, a seemingly interminable amalgamation of the most famous lyrics from musical theatre. Matt Baker thoroughly enjoyed himself as Joey the clown, and ventriloquist Paul Zerdin kept things moving.

Sarcastic references to the ‘intricate plot’, or lack thereof, abounded, daring us to question its insincerity. But the showpiece events would have earned greater reward had there been more substance to hang them together. Call me a Scrooge, but this was a case of too many ideas, too much money, and too little discretion.

Until January 12. Tickets: 0844 871 2118; tickets.telegraph.co.uk