Review: Beauty and the Beast – Citizens Theatre, Glasgow

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Hallelujah! Lewis Hetherington’s sparkling festive adventure has teeth, and it isn’t afraid to bite. Oh, it’s funny — easily the funniest show I’ve seen this Christmas — and lovely to look at too, but most of all, it’s not afraid to follow this centuries-old story into the dark where unsafe things live. I love it. So bravo, Co-Directors Dominic Hill and Joanna Bowman, for bringing the writer’s vision to such vivid, enchanting life.

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This wonderful tale is told by a cat and a dog. Michael Guest is sensational as the prim Mr Mittens — a font of sensible advice perpetually ignored by everyone else — and Martin Donaghy is supremely likeable as the goofy Captain Biscuits in his dog-eared sailor’s garb. They make for as furry and charming a Greek Chorus as you could wish for.

It’s through them that we are introduced to the household of Baron Aaron – Actor-Muso Tyler Collins creating a period figure fit for Horrible Histories – prone to making “excellent financial decisions” which land him, his two daughters and Mr Mittens in a hovel in the woods.

The elegant Beauty, a simply charming Israela Efomi, it is decided, must read a manual on how to be a lovely young lady, preparing to marry well and thus rescue their fortunes. “It’s a love story,” he tells her, “you like those”, and she does! Sister Bright (Actor-Muso Holly Howden Gilchrist) thinks this is mad, but is too busy experimenting with steampunk-esque sound technology (think Delia Derbyshire) to really care. Howden Gilchrist embodies her character’s neurodivergence with care — avoiding the stereotypical “nerd” trope — while contributing mightily to the live soundtrack alongside the versatile Collins.

And then the Baron meets the Beast, and makes one more “excellent” business decision, which sends Beauty to his recent host’s palatial lair in exchange for his life. To be fair, the Beast, first conjured from shadow puppetry and the lightest of voice modulations, doesn’t invite free and fair negotiation.

Bright thinks this is mad, Beauty… thinks it’s simply marvellous — not because she’s some brainless airhead, but because she’s absolutely convinced in her abilities to tame the Beast. Mr Mittens is going too, his dissent dismissed because all she can hear is “meow!”. Beauty’s inability to understand her eminently sensible cat will prove a font of gratifying comedy from beginning to end.

So far, so joyful and superbly witty, but it’s after a thrilling ride on a golden hobbyhorse that the play begins to move up its gears. The big blue Beast, seemingly plucked from Monsters Inc. (Nicholas Marshall), possesses a rough charm that grows on the audience as much as Beauty. His offence at the very idea that he would eat anyone makes for quite the reverse of expectations on first acquaintance, whilst struggles to reform his eating habits, love of gardening and willing embrace of dance — disco-lovers, strap in — make him easier and easier to like.

However, whilst he may not be terrifying, his mansion, overseen by chaotic housekeeper Mrs Flobberlyboo, is a disturbing abode. Elicia Daly offers a tour de force here, evolving through shades of grey, deserving of sympathy, hilarious, yet terrifying at the same time.

Hetherington, Hill and Bowman let the weirdness seep in over Beauty’s stay, dazzling the audience with romance and comedy, whilst leaving something malign to fester behind the many doors of Designer Rachael Canning’s gorgeously realised gothic pile. It is a masterful piece of theatre, made all the prettier by Lizzie Powell’s sumptuous lighting, and soundtracked to weird perfection by Nikola Kodjabashia. The ginormous demonic fireplace makes quite a centrepiece, that’s for sure.

It culminates in as nakedly sinister a First Act finale as you could wish for, ushering in a post-intermission race against time to save the story from a tragic ending.

Yet the play’s humour doesn’t fail; it just evolves. What began with hilarity over the Beast’s flatulent dining habits, and Mrs Flobberlyboo’s mental “old songs everybody knows”, morphs into something nearer comedy horror. For, despite our heroes’ full hearts and renewed family bonds, there is a real and present risk that their madcap adventures will end in failure and loss. Yes, it’s hilarious that you can seduce Donaghy’s faithful hound with a stick, and delightful when Bright stages a (literally) smoking-hot poetic distraction to let Beauty fly to an endangered friend’s rescue, but this is a world in which decisions have consequences, and where not all battles can be won.

There will be no deus ex machina here, no bucket of water to vanquish the baddie, no revelatory change of heart. In the end, it falls to the would-be heroes to model a better, more humane way of life, and for the architect of everyone’s present peril to see it, and then choose it.

When the dust, or indeed snow, has settled, Beauty and the Beast may find a happy ending (it’s a family Christmas show, anything else would be a crime), but having survived an ordeal, all involved come away changed forever. Victory comes at a cost, and it’s all the sweeter for the struggle. Witty, heartfelt, thrilling and captivating from first to last, I couldn’t love Beauty and the Beast any more if I tried. Let’s hope this is only the beginning of it’s journey on the Scottish stage and far beyond.

All Images: Tommy Ga-Ken Wan

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Beauty and the Beast runs at the Citizens Theatre, Glasgow, until 31 December 2025. For tickets and more information, click here.

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