It seems to be a recurring theme of most of my reviews at the Hippodrome (when I have reviews there) that the first Act is less than brilliant whilst the second livens up considerably and is generally good fun. I could probably write most of the review beforehand and simply go back and fill in actor's names and song titles at the end, but you never know, the trend just might stop...

Not this time though. Return To The Forbidden Planet is at the start of its... um... return to Bristol, and doubtless has already sold plenty of tickets. If you're wondering whether or not to go for one of the remaining ones, you should consider a few things. The first is that whilst it claims to be based on Shakespeare's Tempest, this show is anything but written for an educated audience - probably half the Shakespeare quotes in it are taken from other, more well-known plays, the setting is a century sometime in the future on a spaceship, and I very much doubt whether songs like Fleetwood Mac's Albatross and the Beach Boys' Good Vibrations had any influence on the Bard's writing of the source for this story.

The set is really pretty stunning, with musical instruments taking the place of Star Trek - like consoles, big shiny doors in the middle, and lovely silver bits all over. The feel is definitely one of the inside of a futuristic spaceship. Or as close as is possible to get from the inside of a theatre at any rate. The cast spend some time talking to the audience about procedures for the "journey" in rather-too-fake American accents, and when the lights go down the prevailing atmosphere of cheese doesn't lift one bit.

The story consists of a spaceship travelling to a destination not mentioned (or if it was, I forgot very quickly), which crashes on a mysterious planet. The ship's Science Officer then runs away, and soon afterwards the eccentric inhabiter of the world, Dr Prospero, arrives, with his daughter Miranda. Within seconds Miranda has fallen madly in love with Captain Tempest, the helmsman of the ship, and in turn, Cookie, the cook (oh such original names...) has fallen in love with her. Needless to say neither love is requieted at first, in the case of Miranda - Tempest presumably because, until the end of the play, he's camper than a field full of tents. In fact we are reminded not a little of Gerry Anderson's puppet characters, which is fitting because it's the great man himself provides the special effects. Rather weak story follows, the assumption being that the songs are what people have come for and to hell with a plot. But does this thinking work?

The first Act is really pretty poor. James Brown's It's A Man's World includes, in its original recording, some of the best singing ever done by anyone, ever. But Adrian Cobey as the captain of the ship here does little other than simply speak his lines, although Diana Croft (quite possibly related to Lara, from the look of her) as the Science Officer does sing her bit properly. This is a fairly good indicator of the rest of the first Act as well, although it picks up somewhat during an epic guitar solo from Philip Reed as Cookie close to the interval, before dropping off again. And then, after a break and some drinks, we get to the fun part. Act two is a lot better, first because it kicks straight in to the truly rocking songs without hesitation, and second because the jokes (if that's what they should be called) and the physical humour start clicking and the audience stop laughing quite so loudly at anything they recognise from Romeo And Juliet. By the end even an intellectual snob like myself had long stopped caring that the story and characterisation would struggle to get into an historical sketch from Blue Peter, and just enjoying the music. Because, when all's said and done, that is what most of us had come for.

All in all, a forgettable first Act but a far, far, far better second, with an encore that got everyone in the house standing, clapping and dancing in the manner they'd clearly wanted for the entire show. The most commendable thing (perhaps) was that they left The Monster Mash until the encore, so at least the main show wasn't made even more cheesy than the extreme limits it had already reached. The problem might lie more in the fact that the audience was British than that the music wasn't lively enough - we are a reserved people and so on - and the American accents, as has already been mentioned, were pretty irritating, and so far as I could tell unnecessary. But even so, if music with big light shows and special effects (and a corny-ness rivalling the best of Lloyd-Webber) is your thing, go along now. And if you want a really good piece of writing to move you and hold you for an hour and a half... then Scaramouche Jones left the Old Vic on Saturday, sorry.

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