Buffy: Revamped is, in many ways, a testament to the extraordinary cultural staying power of its source material. Joss Whedon’s documented scumbaggery notwithstanding, Buffy the Vampire Slayer remains deeply beloved by a generation that came of age alongside wisecracking, whip-smart kicker of vampire ass Buffy Summers and the rest of the Scooby Gang. The atmosphere in the crowd is much like that of a convention - themed outfits and merch galore, gleeful whooping and hollering at each character introduction or sly little reference. Brendan Murphy’s one-man sum-up of the series, (told from the point of view of its breakout antihero, Spike) is, like any good vampire, at its best when feeding off the crowd.

It is, objectively, very impressive to keep up the high energy Murphy brings for 70 minutes with no interval and no one else to share the stage. He leaps and bounds from set-piece to set-piece in quick fire time, which no doubt requires an incredible amount of coordination, memorisation and showmanship to pull off, up to and including a full, Buffy-based parody of REM’s ‘ It’s The End of the World As We Know It’. He launches himself into his crowdwork with relish, riffing off audience responses, leading the crowd into battle with their ‘stakes’ (chopsticks) held high, and bidding a tearful farewell to a random audience member reading Buffy’s lines (surprisingly well, I might add). His stagecraft is also on point, with plenty of ingenious concepts that cleverly adapt iconic features of the show into its structure - Giles’ ‘silent presentation’ in season 4’s ‘Hush’ is used to summarise the entirety of the extremely hit-and-miss fourth season, while the series’ slightly heavy-handed Slayer ‘coming out’ analogy is played as a performance at the iconic Sunnydale hotspot for underage drinkers, The Bronze.

Buffy: Revamped’s biggest strengths come from Murphy’s ability to evoke a lot with very little. Everyone’s favourite manic pixie dream vampire Drusilla is brought to life with just a pair of massive googly eyes; the snake demon summoned at Sunnydale’s Class of ‘99 graduation is achieved by setting off a snake-in-a-can Murphy then furiously wrestles. Most hilariously, Spike doesn’t even deign to grant David Boreanaz’ Angel an impression, just a leather coat with one arm through it as the theme from his spin-off series plays. It’s both a fun twist on a classic physical comedy bit and a nod to Boreanaz’s admittedly wooden acting skills that comes off beautifully.

It’s clear that, in many respects, Murphy has done his homework. His observations about the inconsistencies of life in Sunnydale are often witty and incisive (particularly when it comes to the series’ sore lack of representation for people of colour or Xander’s adorkable misogyny). But this, unfortunately, makes the show’s lapses more pronounced by comparison. Murphy demonstrates in the first 10 minutes that he can quite adeptly switch between any one of our main players, then proceeds to do nothing with that possibility, in favour of introducing more characters for standalone bits that never recur again. The musical parodies of already heavily-memed tracks like ‘All Star’ or ‘Torn’ can often feel out of nowhere, and smack of the show chasing an initial dopamine hit of recognition rather than pushing itself further. And it takes time away from moments in the TV show that had so much more potential to work - the iconic musical episode ‘Once More With Feeling’ gets at most two throwaway references, when you could build an entire sketch out of the conceit that would have far more to do with Buffy than running through Smash Mouth lyrics with a red marker.

Some aspects of the writing also simply fall apart if you actually think about them for more than a second. There is a Cinemasins-ish quality to his critiques, up to and including the fact that they are sometimes straight up unintentionally wrong. For instance, he chastises the gang for not using werewolf Oz’s ‘powers’ to fight evil, when it’s made clear throughout the series that Oz is uncontrollable in this state and as much a danger to the gang as to their enemies. Faith’s catchphrase “5 by 5” is mocked as unintelligible when it literally just means ‘we’re square’. Buffy’s mother Joyce is given a bizarre Southern accent and a red headscarf as her sole characterisation, while Dru’s ramblings miss the particular, cryptic flavour of weird that made them so memorable in favour of broad, ‘lol random’ riffs (“I eat Babybel with the wax still on!”). Also, why is evil Mayor Wilkins giving genuine advice on how to survive in Sunnydale to students he is about to imminently murder? It seems in places like Murphy had extra material he wasn’t sure what to do with and just threw it in at random.

And at the heart of it all, there is Spike, one of Buffy’s most complex, well-rounded characters. Murphy does succeed in giving Spike much-needed moments of pathos to break up the comedy - his mortal regret and final triumph in later seasons plays especially well. But I’m sorry, this is just not the Spike I’ve come to love. I understand that for a theatre crowd, naturally you’ll have to play things bigger, but making Spike a goofy ladgeezer from the get go diminishes what makes him great. TV Spike is arrogant and self-aggrandising, yes, but in an aloof, sardonic, too-cool-for-school kind of way. It makes those moments when the mask slips more funny or meaningful because the contrast is more pronounced, and there is very little contrast here. This pratfalling himbo is a lot of fun, but bless him, he ain’t Spike.

As a show, it’s undeniably a romp. There’s plenty in here to make every Buffy buff’s brain go ‘brrr’. But for me, it was all a little too whistlestop, more intent on cramming in as many late 90s/2000s references (and even some 2010s - sir, no one has said YOLO unironically in 13 years) as possible, rather than devoting more time to key moments that deserved them. If you see it, see it for the absolute love in the room on all sides for a series that comes along once in a generation; for better and for worse, you’ll leave with an even deeper appreciation of the brilliance of Buffy.