I’ve always been very fond of the Disney adaptation of 101 Dalmatians. The Mouse’s take on Dodie Smith’s children’s book, in which two plucky Dalmatians set out to rescue their children from the clutches of the fur-obsessed Cruella De Vil, has a surprisingly sophisticated tone for a movie released ostensibly for children. Its animation style has a beautifully soft touch to it that brings out the hand-drawn care of Disney’s 2D golden age, and its script, while keeping enough gags to keep the kids entertained, has a remarkably subtle and distinct sense of humour, especially in the early courtship of Pongo and Perdita’s human ‘pets’. 101 Dalmatians: The Musical, composed by Douglas Hodge and written by Johnny McKnight, is many things, but subtle ain’t one of them.
The musical draws quite a bit from the 1961 film in its production design, which is undoubtedly one of the show’s greater strengths. The Dearly’s flat (no longer Roger and Anita but, bizarrely, Tom and Danielle) has the same shabbily cozy orange warmth, Cruella’s Hell House the same cartoonish looming grandeur, and even the countryside car chase at the film’s climax is recreated with dazzling fidelity. Pongo, Perdy, and their comically large litter are brought to life, along with every other animal in the show, via onstage puppetry, which is a lovely touch to carry over the expressive power of animation into a live-action setting. Emma Thornett and Benedict Hastings, indeed the whole ensemble, bring enormous personality to their characters; I particularly liked how this factored into the staging of the Twilight Barking, or the pairing of pets with owners in the opening number ‘Take Me Home’. Everything on that stage is eye-catching, not least Cruella’s fabulous (if unethically sourced) wardrobe.
That being said, the production also cribs significantly from the 1996 live-action movie, and here’s where things get dicey. Cruella (Kerry Ellis) is a high profile fashion designer in line with Glenn Close’s Golden-Globe nominated portrayal, and the show’s humour and script leans far more towards the same broader, goofier comedy. It’s a confusing aesthetic jumble that just doesn’t mesh - Tom and Danielle, as well as all the other residents of London, have such a distinctly mid century visual style that butts heads Cruella’s 1980s Dynasty fantasy, as well as a script that references hashtags, Boris Johnson and the 2007 smoking ban.
And woof, this script. I know that this is a show intended primarily for younger kids, of which there were many in this theatre. But Hodge and McKnight seem to have made the assumption that “for kids” necessarily means “endless poo, wee and bum jokes”, and it does a real disservice to the efforts of a cast that’s clearly talented enough to deserve better material. The score is well-sung but largely forgettable, save ‘Litterbugs’ if only because it sounds like ‘Me Ole Bamboo’ and ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’ mashed together, or ‘Where Are They’, which hits the ear like ‘Carol of the Bells’ with the serial numbers filed off. Lyrically it veers from blandly generic to cringeworthy. ‘One Added Extra’ and ‘Two Bad Criminals’ (again, subtlety is not this show’s strong suit) were clearly written with a rhyming dictionary to hand, approaching ‘lyrical miracle’ levels of facile. And no one should write the words “you’re in a place/a not-nice space” without going back in for a second draft. The script reads like a middling CBeebies show, and while Jessie Elland as Danielle and Samuel Thomas as Tom are doing their damndest to pack it with energy, it feels like they’ve been directed to deliver their lines like children’s TV presenters, with little variation in energy or tone.
Undoubtedly, the performer most adept at wringing the potential out of their lines is Kerry Ellis as Cruella. Thank God her shoulder pads are so big, because she’s carrying this script like Atlas. She owns the stage the second she steps on, slinking about the stage with Machievellian glamour and dominance, and the sheer power of this former Elphaba’s vocals makes the on-paper unremarkable ‘Bring Me Fur’ sound like ‘Defying Gravity’. Next to her, our good guys seem rather insipid by comparison; indeed, by the end of Act One I was so hooked on her I was beginning to wonder what was so great about these puppies anyway.
But even Ellis can’t save the out-of-pocket turn the show’s second act takes. It’s not like strange plot devices haven’t popped up before in the 101 Dalmatians franchise - see the novel’s sequel if you don’t believe me. But what if I told you that, in the course of Act 2, Cruella accidentally drinks a toxic chemical that gives her the mannerisms and heightened senses of a dog (why does she HAVE that?); Pongo and Perdy get electrocuted with a cattle-prod (non-fatally), and the day is saved by one of the puppies peeing on a live wire? It’s a mad cluster of half-baked ideas that overwhelms the vanishingly few moments of quiet or character development the show offers. I swear I heard one kid whisper to their mother as it seems one puppy might expire in the snow, “I know he’s going to be alright in five minutes” - if a kid that young can understand that this tension is unearned, something has gone wrong.
There are flashes of a great stage show in 101 Dalmatians - you can see in its visuals and stagecraft tangible imagination and care. But between the confounding mulch of influences, off-the-rails story choices and a weak-sauce script, it’s just a bit of a dog’s dinner.