Titanique - London ★★★★★

Director and co-author Tye Blue’s Titanique is a heady concoction. It feels like a drag show, tribute act and slapstick comedy, shaken hard and unleashed on Piccadilly Circus. Laced with a heavy dose of spice, razor-sharp wit and its own brand of camp, it’s the perfect tipple for a gloomy January night.

The show opens in a museum dedicated to “the ship of dreams”. Guide Ryan Carter (later also Seaman and Iceberg) opens the show, pointing out the artefacts to an uninteresting bunch of visitors. It’s a bit flat. You’d be forgiven for checking your watch. Then guess who turns up to tell the tale of the terrible night “the unsinkable” actually sank?

What is Celine Dion doing in the retelling of the Titanic story anyway?

With a big old “Hello, my darlings!” Astrid Harris (Celine Dion) takes the stage by storm—all sequins and legs with a killer voice. She’s part MC, part comedian, a raunchy and unapologetic upstager, and the glue that holds the show together. As she belts out (and sends up) the opening number, I’m Alive, the ensemble cast remove their overcoats and, in a Full Monty moment, unveil their character costumes. The curtain lifts to reveal the stage, complete with a live band and backing singers—and we’re off!

For a hybrid show, boy, does this work! At maybe 20 gags a minute, this 115-minute show with no interval is ridiculously good fun. The series of power ballads on steroids begins. The characters (comically drawn caricatures of those in the movie) lead us through this musical spoof. Even the ‘straight’ heroes, doomed lovers Jack and Rose, have us laughing. Luke Bayer (Jack), goofy and vain in equal measure, camps it up as the artist with a passion for drawing stick cats with felt markers. Rose Galbraith’s (Rose) develops a curious fixation with an aubergine—”the gift she gives herself” (ahem). As Galbraith performs a rendition of the Dion/Streisand duet Tell Him with Charlotte Wakefield (Molly Brown), later joined by Astrid Harris, it’s a moment to rival the original; the harmonies are impeccable, although it’s laughter that’s trickling down cheeks.

The cameos are outstanding. Richard Carson (Cal) plays Rose’s fiancé. Complete with a painted hairline and an account on Grindr, he’s oozing with slippery charm. His vocal talents shine too. (There must be a place in the Guinness Book of Records for holding a (perfect) note that long.) Charlotte Wakefield is formidable. When she actually gets to sing it, following a string of farcical interruptions, her 32-bar cut of All By Myself is a banger. Michael Vinsen, the ship’s captain who “drove all night”, belts out his number like the pro he is. When he careers the ship headlong into the Iceberg personified by Ryan Carter, the show moves into overdrive. Carter “sashays away” in full drag, bringing another layer of energy to the show with a crowd-pleasing Mountain Deep, River High. It’s mostly Carl Mullaney’s fault that jaws start to ache and sides begin to split. As Rose’s caustic mother Ruth, he brings his own blend of camp: an arch tone, split-second timing and hilarious slapstick moves. Although miffed that he doesn’t get a song of his own, he treats us instead to a hilarious standup-style rant where everyone receives a lash, including the cast, the audience, the band—and anyone who’s ever stood on the left-hand side of a London Underground escalator.

The choreography, costume, set and props in this show are all true to form. From Nerf guns to stuffed seagulls on a hairband (how does that even hold up in a dance routine?), there’s no holding back on the kitsch. The set reimagines a swinging 20s nightclub. It’s made of stacked light boxes that change colour with the mood of the show. The musicians and backup singers do a fabulous job of supporting the ensemble, and the musical arrangement by Nicholas James Connell is a treat for both hardcore Dion fans and those new to the repertoire.

With clever ad-lib comments, self-deprecating humour and players about to corpse at any moment, it’s clear this ensemble knows how to have a good time. Disaster has never been this entertaining. As Celine closes the show and thanks us for watching Titanique on the set of Anything Goes (her words), this raunchy riot reminds us that anything really does go. God bless the Titanique and all who sail in her. Now in its second year at the Criterion, get your ticket while you can.