Douglas Adams’s sci-fi comedy about Earth’s destruction and Arthur Dent’s intergalactic adventures has become a stratospheric enterprise since the original radio series in 1978. That spawned six books, a TV series, a film, comics, stage adaptations – and branded bath towels.
Booming business indeed yet it is odd to see the sale of merchandise as part of this immersive show (there is one booth selling branded goods within the production and a second in the foyer), as well as a bar at every turn. That commercial opportunism grates. Is this an attempt to take the audience into Adams’s imaginative universe in a new, interactive way – or merely a cash cow?
Co-created by designer Jason Ardizzone-West and writer Arvind Ethan David, it reverently cross-references across the books and seems to be aiming for its own story, despite the hard sell. This chimes with the spirit of Adams who added new, sometimes contradictory, aspects across the many manifestations of the original tale.
But despite a vast set spread across several rooms, the final one opening up to a virtual bonfire of luminous, super-computer effects, there are too many mere nods to Adams’s characters, without flesh around them or the plotlines. This might leave initiates bamboozled too: who are these people, what makes them tick, what is the jeopardy in their world?
A promenade show directed by Georgia Clarke-Day, with discrete casts over different time slots, it begins with Arthur (Robert Thompson) typically in his dressing gown and bath towel (at least one member of the audience came dressed the same way). There is no Trillian, the one other – female – human survivor of the first book, but Fenchurch (Kat Johns-Burke) instead, from a later book, whom Arthur meets for a karaoke date in Rickmansworth, along with his friend, Ford Prefect (Oliver Britten).
They blast out a couple of well-sung pop classics (What’s Up? by 4 Non Blondes and Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy) and there is a too quick disclosure by Ford that he is an alien in disguise before the Vogons – destroyers of the Earth – descend.
The invasion is reported on screens and audio breaking news. We are herded from an initial bar space to another room, representing a rescue spacecraft. Urgency is announced but not felt. Then it’s on to another room, and another aircraft, this time with iconic characters from Adams’s world, including Beeblebrox (Lee V G), Eccentrica Gallumbits (Briony Scarlett) and Slartibartfast (Richard Costello).
The problem is that they pop up as cameos, not nearly rounded enough, although they are fabulously dressed by costume designer Susan Kulkarni (metallic dresses, purple frills and a glittery dressing gown for Arthur in the final scene). The audience is left to wander around the room, initially. When the drama kicks in, it does not do enough, despite the eye-catching optics.
Arthur is a flatly diffident, depressed type; Fenchurch is equally flimsy. The Earth’s destruction takes a backseat to romance between them but it is too brief to sweep you in. It is a shame that the arc of the story is so truncated because there are some incredibly strong vocal performances during the song and dance numbers, along with the lavish visuals. But without the story to tether it, these are just floating effects.
What is singularly winning is Marvin (the paranoid android), a red-eyed robot puppet who is excellently voiced and manipulated by Andrew Evans. Surly little Marvin is so delightfully entertaining - like ET on a downer – that you want more from him. Please can he have his own immersive show?
• At Riverside Studios, London, until 15 February
