Given that the original Shrek movie was itself a postmodern deconstruction of the fairytale, with a keen eye on their Disney incarnations in particular, there are some who think its transformation into a musical could be seen as something of a critical step back.

The only diegetic ‘musical’ moments in the original film were patent send ups. The wonderfully parodic ‘Welcome to Duloc’, a sort of riff on Disney park ditties a la ‘It’s A Small World’, and the equally silly lampooning of melodic princesses, where Cameron Diaz’s Princess Fiona literally out-warbles a bird to (explosive) death.

The Academy Award-winning outing by Andrew Adamson and Vicky Jenson was witty, cutting and, in hindsight, occasionally indelicate by contemporary standards (in fairly typical turn-of-the-millenium fashion).

It’s what makes its eventual stage musical transfer something of a curio; doubly so in this latest touring production. We get that, quite famously, Shrek as a character has his ‘layers’, but outside of some regular gross-out mimery, he’s quite the sensitive soul this time round, saddled mostly with a raft of soul-searching ‘I Wants’. There’s a peppering of gross-out moments throughout, but on the whole the character feels less assured here.

“…quite famously, Shrek as a character has his ‘layers’, but outside of some regular gross-out mimery, he’s quite the sensitive soul this time round.”

For certain, the broader show bounces along with plenty of pleasant themes and messages of diversity, inclusion and not judging by appearance alone; its colourful fairytale ensemble clear ciphers for minority voices and representation. But outside of a few inspired moments where the creatives involved seem to actually capitalise on the medium of the stage musical – the aforementioned fairytale posse’s ‘Freak Flag’ being a satisfying, fist-pumping example – Shrek the Musical remains a rather toothless affair.

It’s funny, goofy and silly, but whereas the original film courted the MTV generations and was a naughty, biting satire for all ages, its musical incarnation feels firmly pitched at a younger crowd, ultimately feeling more panto than po-mo.

It’s a feeling exacerbated by the aesthetics and design choices of this latest touring production. The framing of Philip Witcomb’s set is suitably picture book and vibrant, but an over-dependency on Nina Dunn’s vast video backdrops offers mixed results. When used as accents for a scene – such as Shrek’s swampy residence, or to add a pop of depth to a late-game wedding sequence – it works beautifully, but when it’s left to do all of the heavy-lifting, such as in the traversal of a rickety bridge over a pool of lava (originally a practical, on-stage set piece in previous productions), it underwhelms, leaving the stage feeling sparse and, again, giving more than an echo of panto fare.

Elsewhere, that exploding bird mentioned before is now simply tossed off stage, and an otherwise impressive dragon puppet shows little articulation. They’re minor, some may consider pedantic, observations, and will be completely lost on anyone who hasn’t already seen a previous production of Shrek. But when layered on what’s already a fairly thin book and score, they are notable trims.

Nowhere is this more evident than in this outing’s handling of James Gillan’s villainous Lord Farquaad. In previous productions, the humour of the character revolved entirely around his diminutive stature, the actor in question performing on their knees to create an (admittedly hilarious) spot of visual comedy. It isn’t difficult to see why, in 2024, the decision may be made to take what is essentially an extended laugh at dwarfism and replace it with something (debatably) more sensitive and considered. But on this occasion a rewrite feels sorely needed if you’re going to take out the very thing the character’s dialogue and two songs are lyrically so entwined with.

“…on this occasion a rewrite feels sorely needed if you’re going to take out the very thing the character’s dialogue and two songs are lyrically so entwined with.”

Gillan is, as ever, a formidable talent on stage, and does an admirable job reframing his Farquaad as a dry, deadpan brat in the vein of almost a Rob Madge and Julian Clary hybrid. Still, one can’t help shake the feeling that this Shrek has simply switched its potential targets of offence from those short of stature to the effeminate and/or closeted.

If this all sounds overwhelmingly negative, then there’s still plenty to enjoy from a visit to the swamp with Shrek and pals. The tour boasts a really excellent cast – Strictly winner Joanne Clifton once again proves herself a dependable ball of absolute joy and energy on stage. Antony Lawrence is a fun, if rather fed up, Shrek, and Brandon Lee Sears is by some measure the best Donkey seen in the show to date – his physical comedy and vocals equally impressive. He channels the mischievous, wisecracking, irritating, hilarious essence of Eddie Murphy’s iconic performance, whilst imbuing it with a physicality and silliness all of his own.

“Brandon Lee Sears is by some measure the best Donkey seen in the show to date…”

Elsewhere, Cherece Richards absolutely devours the sassy, soulful dragon solo, ‘Forever’ (one of the better numbers of the show), raising the roof even as the portcullis comes crashing down, whilst Georgie Buckland and Jonathan David Dudley impress in a variety of bit parts and fun fairytale figures, amongst what is a committed and solid ensemble across the board.

Shrek the Musical doesn’t reinvent the wheel. Heck, by comparison to its unconventional, redefining forebear, it rotates it a back a few turns, delivering a surprisingly safe and undaring transplant. Yet the young audiences were clearly lapping it up, and there’s a pleasantly enjoyable undercurrent of self-love and acceptance ebbing away between all the farts and the frolics. It’s far from a monster that needs banishing from the stage immediately, and a great cast go a long way in making up for some of the aesthetic and technical corners that have been cut.

It may not be enough to completely make you a ‘believer’, but by the time the toe-tapping Monkees curtain call comes around, it leaves you with enough of a warm, fuzzy, fairytale glow that you may even be tempted to see it all ogre again…