Hex – National Theatre

Kate Parr, Lisa Lambe and Olivia Saunders in Hex at the National Theatre. Picture: Johan Persson

Hex continues at the National Theatre (Olivier) until 14 January 2023.

Star rating: three stars ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩

The big problem with attempting to adapt the folk tale of Sleeping Beauty into any modern form is that its title character must, by necessity, be comatose for the duration. And with the passage of time as the princess sleeps, the prince who comes to wake her must both fall in love with someone he’s never met and then kiss her when she’s in no position to consent.

So there are several elements to consider, each problematic in their way. Tanya Ronder’s book, based on a concept by Katrina Lindsay and Ronder’s husband, Rufus Norris (itself based on an adaptation by Deirdre Strath), throws everything at the central problem of a somnolent protagonist in the hope of making something stick.

So, we have the princess (Rosie Graham’s Rose) become a supporting character in her own story, with the protagonist role taken instead by Lisa Lambe’s low fairy, called Fairy, who hexes the royal household in response to her mistreatment and the hand of Rose’s mother. The century-long sleeping spell sees several ineffectual princes attempt to rescue Rose for their own reasons, with love not high on anyone’s list. But after they, too, succumb to the cursed thorns, Fairy begins cultivating a relationship with an Ogress, Queenie (Victoria Hamilton-Barritt), whose half-human son could be immune.

Rose is awoken before the end of Act I, as Michael Elcock’s Prince Bert receives a deserved slap for his nonconsensual kiss. This allows Act II to concentrate on the ramifications of Fairy’s actions.

If one were being kind, one could compare this structure – a traditional, if twisted, version of a fairy tale in Act I, followed by having to live with the consequences in Act II – to a certain masterpiece by Stephen Sondheim. But Hex is no Into the Woods by any stretch. Jim Fortune’s music is largely forgettable, and although it pulls in musical styles from various genres – the trio of High Fairies who look down upon the action without getting involved sing with operatic lilts, while Mark Oxtoby’s gang of thorns are all Cockney wideboys in the faux-ska style of a bad Madness tribute – there is never any sense of musical cohesion.

Musical matters aren’t helped by the lyrics, crafted by Norris, who also directs. Large amounts of repetition hamper many numbers – whole lines are repeated with maybe one or two words tweaked, while several songs rely on rhyming schemes that could be generously described as A-A-A-A-A-A.

It is also a problem that the songs sit inside a narrative that, partly due to having the kitchen sink thrown at it, never quite knows what level it’s aiming for. This is particularly obvious in Act II, as Queenie’s descent back into a desire for human flesh sees her attempting to eat her own grandchildren.

This act of wanton cannibalism is, to say the least, odd – maybe Ronder and Norris are attempting to emulate another Sondheim classic, Sweeney Todd, or seeking to reclaim some of the more gruesome elements of the folk tales collected by Perrault and the Grimm brothers. Whatever the reason, the shift into the macabre doesn’t do the show any favours.

What saves Hex from being a complete disaster is its design and its cast. Katrina Lindsay makes the most of the Olivier’s high fly tower to make the High Fairies’ entrances spectacular, while a scale model of Rose’s palace is beautiful and serves as a thematically appropriate bed for the sleeping princess. Hex really is a feast for the eyes.

Impressive also are the main lead characters of Lambe and Hamilton-Barritt as Fairy and Queen. Hamilton-Barritt – an actor who can always be relied upon to find charismatic complexity in every offbeat line reading – brings much-needed nuance to her ogress, while Lambe’s stunning Irish vocals elevate her every song.

The show has a strong ensemble, too, which does have the unfortunate side effect of Elcock, the show’s romantic male lead, becoming vocally overshadowed by the band of incompetent ne’er-do-well princes vying for Rose’s hand.

The choreography – by Jade Hackett, with occasional flourishes suggesting the input of ZooNation’s Bradley Charles, an associate choreographer on the show – is distinctive and fun.

But ultimately, all the style in the world can’t cover that the story of Hex is a bit of a mess. When this show goes back to sleep in January, it would be wise not to try to wake it.

Scott Matthewman