Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens – The Two Brewers

Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens was performed at The Two Brewers, London.

Star rating: 3 stars ***

Set in a seedy dive bar at the wrong end of the Universe, Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens is the love child of The Rocky Horror Show, The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Barbarella and every Carry On movie you’ve ever seen. Pumped out to an 1990s disco-inspired soundtrack, it’s a colourful, camp romp that most recently found an ideal home on the first floor of a bar in Clapham. Certainly not everyone’s cup of tea – leave your maiden aunt at home – but if you’re happy in the company of cross-dressing aliens in knee-high glitter boots, then this is your show.

Saucy Jack was first produced in 1995 as a midnight musical on – no surprises here – the Edinburgh Fringe. Four former Kent University students – Johanna Allitt, Simon Curtis, Mike Fidler and Charlotte Mann – apparently hoping to stage Candide but beaten to it by another company instead wrote their own fun, high-octane electro-pop show that danced off with a Fringe First award for Dramatic Innovation & Outstanding New Production. It finally made it to the West End three years later, premiering at – how apt! – the Queen’s on Shaftesbury Avenue, and was revived at the Leicester Square Theatre in 2005/06 with Faye ‘Steps’ Tozer headlining and Bruno ‘Strictly’ Tonioli providing the choreography.

Well, I managed to miss the show every time, but not through any determined desire to avoid it. I was glad, then, when I finally got the chance to set eyes and ears on this cult curio thanks to a short four-night run at Clapham’s Two Brewers, “South London’s premier cabaret bar”. Rather wonderfully, the upstairs cabaret space practically was Saucy Jack’s club, negating any need for set dressing. The only things missing were bright green pan-galactic gargle blaster cocktails.

This version, by Two Box Productions – a vibrant pro outfit founded by Nottingham New Theatre alumni – may not have had the budget to rival the Queen’s but, by Jupiter, their enthusiastic cast did what they could to make up for it. The show definitely had an amateur feel – the music, MD’d by Dan Turek, was pre-recorded, the costumes were on the cheap side – but director Cesar Teixeira and choreographer Rachael Blaney clearly made the most of this, and I quickly warmed to the varsity-style let’s-do-the-show-right-here vibe. Its cheapness was its charm.

The show began the minute I entered the club, when I was led to my seat by a Miss Booby Shevale (a very convincing Lawrence Bolton, who must surely have the longest legs in showbiz!). Booby and the other Saucy Jack’s staff (Jax Braithwaite, Emma Louise Amanshia) were already in character, and propping up the bar was Saucy Jack’s regular Dr Von Whackoff (Huw Cook), ze prerequisite Austrian psychoanalyst.

Ostensibly a whodunnit, the plot doesn’t really need much coverage here, suffice it to say that the crime-fighting Space Vixens rock up to Saucy Jack’s to smoke out a serial killer offing the waiting staff. The whole show is an excuse for the cast to strut around in bondage gear and basques – although more M&S than S&M on this budget – and generally have a lot of fun. Estrogen seeps from its very pores, with strong female roles and plenty of girl power.

A couple of notable performances helped to keep the show buoyant. ‘Saucy’ Jack De’Ath himself (Joel Dyer) had a fantastic voice when in song, although he did let himself down in the acting stakes, not quite having the gravity or personality to hold the audience in his orbit. But brava to Abbie McCrone (Jubilee Climax) and bravissima to Annie Harris as (ahem) Bunny Lingus – two standout performances. Kiran Benwara also gave us a fulsome Chesty Prospects, an intergalactic smuggler. And a couple of the males also deserve a mention, namely Dan Boyden as the barman Mitch Maypole and Mark Wickens as the house saxophonist Sammy Sax.

So, on the whole, there were impassioned, energetic performances, and three or four tunes that lingered in the ears, particularly ‘All I Need is Disco’, ‘Glitter Boots Saved My Life’ and ‘Cheer Up Bunny’ (lovely harmonies). (Book and lyrics are by Charlotte Mann and Michael Fidler, with music by Jonathan Croose and Robin Forrest).

For all its sauciness, it’s exactly that: saucy, like a Bamforth postcard, only from Mars. As one review of the West End production put it, it’s “as subversive as a lava lamp”. It’s certainly a show with cult status, which can often be code for “not very good”, and while it’s no Rocky Horror, it’s still an enjoyable night out, provided you let yourself get into the spirit of things.

The biggest letdown for me was the sound quality. I only caught a quarter of the (unmic’d) dialogue, lost under the thumping disco soundtrack. And with only one mic stand between 14 performers, it was often something of a bun fight on stage. The songwriter and performers deserved better.

 Craig Glenday