LA CLIQUE at the Hippodrome, WC2
The extravaganza has taken up residence in the venue that once played host to Harry Houdini
Clive Davis
While "A hit at Edinburgh" may be one of the more dubious phrases in the entertainment lexicon, it is easy to see why audiences fell for this manic show. Variety has fallen out of fashion in this country - unlike say, France, where it still commands a place on prime-time TV. LA CLIQUE - which isn't a Gallic venture, in spite of the title - may not be awash with Hughie Green wholesomeness, but it has the potential to introduce a new generation to old-fashioned theatricality.
The extravaganza has taken up residence in the venue that once played host to Harry Houdini and, later, The Talk of the Town. The impresario Nick Wright hopes to restore the Leicester Square landmark to something approaching its former status. The omens look promising, with the evening providing a cheery blend of burlesque, circus and freak- show in a setting that has something of the unpretentious air of the Comedy Store. While VIP table seating is available for the few bankers who still have a few ten-pound notes to burn, most of us were sitting on cheap and cheerful wooden chairs.
The hit of the evening, without a doubt, was Captain Frodo, an amiably demented contortionist who combines the ability to thread his body through tennis racquets with slapstick flourishes redolent of Norman Wisdom. The English Gents (who are, in fact, Australian) came a close second with their understated acrobatics and feats of strength, all executed with deadpan stiff upper-lips. Stripping down to Union Jack underpants, they revealed the most extraordinarily chiselled physiques this side of Action Man.
When sex reared its head it often had a homoerotic or Chippendale tinge to it. True, the one example of all-out nudity came in Ursula Martinez's striptease-cum-magic act, but the routine was performed with so much comic gusto that you were much more inclined to laugh than ogle. (Where on earth did she hide that red hanky?) The ladies - and some of the men - in the audience were rather less restrained during David O'Mer's languid gymnastics, which were performed, for some reason, above a bathtub.
The show loses a little of its momentum in the second half as performers return with a variation or two. Still, if you're sitting near the front, you get to help Clarke McFarlane's deranged Freddie Mercury imitator perform body-surfing: Silly, very silly, but great fun.
Box office: 020-7907 7097
The Times
Clive Davis
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