It’s hard to imagine a comedy written in 405 BC could still be funny today, and yet Aristophanes’ The Frogs continues to be produced in various formats. Certainly, one of the funniest versions comes from two American titans, Stephen Sondheim and Nathan Lane, the latter of whom has ‘even more freely adapted’ the adaptation of Burt Shevelove.
In The Frogs, Dionysos, the god of drama (and wine), disillusioned by the state of the world, embarks on a surreal journey to the underworld with his long-suffering servant Xanthias in tow. Their mission: to bring back a great playwright who can restore civilisation through the power of art. Along the way, they encounter a chorus of obstinate frogs, a boatman with a grudge, and a literary showdown between George Bernard Shaw and William Shakespeare. As the gods bicker and the dead debate, the play asks whether art can truly save a society in decline.
Despite its promising premise and a few glimmers of charm, this production of The Frogs at Southwark Playhouse Borough ultimately sinks under the weight of its own ambition. This revival of the Sondheim/Lane adaptation of Aristophanes’ ancient satire starts with a splash but ends somewhat soggily, leaving audiences wading through a second act that seems at odds with the first.
There are moments of genuine humour, and the absurdity of Dionysos’ journey to the underworld is played with a lightness that occasionally lands. Kevin McHale, best known for Glee, brings a likeable energy to Xanthias and some of the funniest moments come from his deadpan delivery of one-liners. But McHale, a very talented singer, doesn’t get many songs, and there’s a constant feeling that there must have been another role on the London stage that would have suited his talents better.
Dan Buckley leads the cast as Dionysos but the performance feels lost in the show’s chaotic centre. There are some performances that strike the right note; Joaquin Pedro Valdes delights as Herakles, Martha Pothen and Bart Lambert are striking as Shaw and Shakespeare, and Carl Patrick is a hilarious Charon.
Unfortunately, any goodwill earned in the first half evaporates quickly after the interval. The second act is a tonal and structural misfire – sluggish, talky, and almost entirely devoid of music. For a musical comedy, this is a fatal flaw. The absence of Sondheim’s score in the latter half leaves the production feeling flat and directionless, with long stretches of dialogue that fail to engage or amuse.
The production itself feels clunky. Transitions are awkward, pacing is inconsistent, and the overall staging lacks polish. Libby Todd’s set and costume design does little to elevate the experience and this doesn’t feel much like a professional production. Neither Georgie Rankcom’s direction nor Matt Nicholson’s choreography feels up to the mark. The frogs themselves, who should be a highlight, quickly become tiresome rather than entertaining.
The rotating cast of Plutos is an intriguing idea, but on press night, Victoria Scone’s performance, while spirited, couldn’t overcome the production’s broader shortcomings. This glitzy take on the god of the underworld adds some flair, but it’s not enough to rescue the show from its own murky depths and lack of comic timing.
There are flashes of what The Frogs could be – a sharp, satirical romp with timely political undertones – but this production never quite finds its footing. Instead, it hops uncertainly between styles and tones. The result is a muddled, meandering evening that feels far longer than its runtime.
For die-hard Sondheim fans, there may be some curiosity value here. But for most theatregoers, this is a revival that croaks more than it sings.
Listings and ticket information can be found here.
