Are High School Musical’s campy, ambitious Sharpay and Ryan truly the villains of the piece, or does that in fact go to Vanessa Hudgens‘ doe-eyed wet flannel, Gabriella? What is going through the mind of (spoiler alert) Frozen’s conniving Prince Hans whilst crooning unconventional gaslighter, ‘Love Is An Open Door’?

And, perhaps most probing and searing of all… what does any self-respecting musical theatre performer or accompanist wear to channel their inner lion?

Just some of the freewheeling camp and hijinks that permeate the Old Joint Stock’s I Screamed a Scream. Dubbed a ‘Villains Cabaret’, it manifests as precisely that, with a ‘wicked-ly talented’ (Travolta’s creepy accentuation itself referenced) foursome belting their way through a collection of dastardly numbers of the stage and screen.

It’s a robust, eclectic setlist, for starters. There are the expected tentpoles – the big Disney favourites such as The Lion King’s ‘Be Prepared’ and The Little Mermaid’s ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ are present and accounted for. Dipping into the worlds of Sondheim and the stage, favourites from Sweeney Todd, Hairspray and even Hamilton get their dues, too (some admittedly in truncated, mash-up form).

“There are the expected tentpoles… but the show, directed by Emily Susanne Lloyd, bats in some broader, less expected swings, too.”

But the show, directed by Emily Susanne Lloyd, bats in some broader, less expected swings, too. ‘The Pitiful Children’ from Be More Chill, anyone? Or how about Suzanne Pleshette’s gleefully vicious ‘My Lullaby’ from the direct-to-VHS Lion King sequel? Bandying between light-hearted bops to genuinely sinister anthems (The Hunchback of Notre Dame’s ‘Hellfire’ gets an impressively serious outing here), it’s a delicately curated roster that makes for a wonderfully varied, tonally rambunctious evening of mischief and villainy.

The talent assembled for the occasion impress throughout. Sinead Kenny (Aladdin), Lydia Eliza Roberts (Heathers the Musical) and Haydn Cox (Dear Evan Hansen) all turn in great vocals and feisty, characterful performances throughout. Kenny infuses sultry sass and delicious amounts of venom and spite into some great villainesses such as Mother Gothel, Zira and Amber Von Tussle. Roberts gets in plenty of big belts and showy moments through big asks such as Mean Girl’s ‘World Burn’ and Into the Woods’ ‘Last Midnight’. And Cox jolts megawatts of energy, riffs and humour into everything from Little Shop’s dentist, Jesus Chris Superstar’s King Herod to the actual villain of Heathers the Musical.

“There’s evidently a ton of passion for all things villainous here…”

Steering the good ship villainy is the Old Joint Stock’s very own James Edge. No stranger to heading up a cabaret, Edge (himself a seasoned musical theatre performer) is a suave, slick performer and proves a perfect host for the occasion, fully throwing himself into the sassy, camp mayhem of it all. There’s evidently a ton of passion for all things villainous here, and some of the evening’s best – and funniest – moments are courtesy of his patter and commentary on all things devilish and devious. Edge shares great chemistry with his co-stars, including accompanist Callum Thompson (who proves a great sport throughout), and all the giddy mischief only makes the no-frills rawness of the likes of his ‘Hellfire’ rendition all the more disarming and powerful.

It’s all delightful, unapologetic cabaret goodness with an extra sheen of malevolence. For fans of the darker side of Disney and musicals (which should be any self-respecting enthusiast, let’s be frank), I Screamed A Scream is a surefire recommendation. It’s a funny, spirited melange of some of the best showtunes and most memorable ne’er-do-wells. One which bubbles with cackling, creepy creativity and makes no bones about its stripped-back, warts-and-all approach. Winningly piloted by Edge, and featuring a rogues gallery of engaging musical theatre talent, it’s a deliciously entertaining showcase that, as its marketing proclaims, it truly does feel so good to be bad.

As the theatregoing community dives into its annual flurry of Fringe-mania, with burgeoning new voices and shows dotting every nook, cranny and corner of Edinburgh, it’s always worth remembering that the Celtic capital does not hold a monopoly on indie productions. Birmingham’s Old Joint Stock Theatre has proven itself a cultural hotspot of original and in-house pieces, including the serving up of shows rarely seen on the UK circuit.

First Date is a perfect tentpole example of this. Winsberg, Zachary and Weiner’s spunky rom-com represents a shiny UK premiere for the Birmingham venue. Outside of a Samantha Barks and Simon Lipkin-headed digital version streamed during lockdown, this is the first time First Date has been performed this side of the Atlantic, and it proves a canny fit for the Old Joint Stock.

Whilst not quite a two-hander, Date centres around, unsurprisingly, a blind date match up for awkward, overdressed Aaron (Michali Dantes) and spirited yet guarded Casey (Rokaya). The intimacy of the Old Joint Stock’s theatre allows the creatives here to perfectly transform it into ‘Cupidz’, the New York bar-restaurant where the show takes place. Plenty of credit to designers Joanne Marshall and Jacob Finch for crafting a really palpable sense of place and ambience. Kitschy neon signs, an actual bar and Tom McVeigh’s vibrant yet stylised city backdrop invites audiences into the world of First Date, and it’s impossible to shake the sense that you’re sat in the thick of the action.

And what colourful, zany, inspired action it is. For despite its closeness and intimacy, the five performers who head up First Date do a seriously impressive job of making this register as full throated musical theatre.

In many ways, the MVPs here are the triad of supporting performers – Tom Kiteley, Lowri Hamer and Joey Warne – who spin, cartwheel and even death drop their way through a panoply of wildly different and tirelessly entertaining characters and bit parts. The catty, increasingly impatient gay best friend. The deified ex fiancé. In a vein similar to, say, the thought avatars of A Strange Loop, many of the trio’s characters are embodiments of friends, former lovers and other parts of the leading duo’s psyches lending voice to how this fractious first encounter is transpiring. Some may balk at how some of the characterisations tiptoe a little awkwardly close to slightly dated tropes, but when you’re having this much fun with it all, such criticism feels cynical.

First Dates is perhaps at its strongest and most infectious when it lets the freewheeling, bonkers elements of its story run riot – from a sidesplitting showdown of conflicting religious authorities, the hyperactive puppetry of an imaginary son through to the literal physical embodiment of Google itself putting on a vaudevillian song and dance number.

“…perhaps at its strongest and most infectious when it lets the freewheeling, bonkers elements of its story run riot…”

Director James Edge asks a lot of his company throughout, threading constant movement (shoutout to a particularly inspired idea to have the characters be ‘served’ the props for their upcoming scenes and numbers), energy and vibrancy through a piece that is essentially about two people sat down getting to know one another. As mentioned, the talented group more than rise to the challenge, and thoroughly impress in turning the big show tunes and numbers into really substantial and entertaining musical set pieces.

In fact, the showier and sillier moments of First Date are so winning that they regularly threaten to overshadow the more formulaic romance at its heart. Thankfully, Michali Dantes and Rokaya are both in fine voice, and do a good job of fleshing out their leads over the course of the two hour piece, dipping into some genuinely touching territory come the second act in particular. There’s a definite arc and growth to these contrasting yet complementary characters, and we come to share in Aaron’s gradual empowerment and Casey’s slow yet determined breaking down of her defensive barriers.

“…there can’t be enough good things said about the absolute delight that is that supporting trio.”

Strip it to its bare bones, and there isn’t all that much that is devastatingly original or new in First Date. Yet Edge and company inject it with enough character that we actually come to care, and there can’t be enough good things said about the absolute delight that is that supporting trio. Kiteley, Hamer and Warne prove themselves chameleonic physical and character comedians par excellence, and in no small way help to elevate the formulaic into the fabulous, and the intimate into something frequently impressive.

To say we are living in the age of the influencer and the social media celebrity will likely come as neither news nor searingly original insight to practically anyone. And the cultural clout of the online face has bled its way into the world of theatre, too. Former supermarket TikToker Hannah Lowther and her journey to Six. Rob Madge and their myriad musical theatre, panto and solo delights. Heck, even West End wunderkind Carrie Hope Fletcher first cut through courtesy of her early Youtube work.

Sharing his own colourful, unconventional rise to ‘official celebrity status’ over the course of a certain pandemic is Richard Poynton – AKA Stage Door Johnny – in the aptly titled Accidental Influencer. Poynton’s journey, which began with a ‘deeply scientific’ exploration of second and first class stamps on TikTok that attracted the attention of the likes of LadBible and BBC Radio One’s Greg James, gets the one-man treatment here, with Poynton shining a hearty, frank light on the fun, the excitement, the pitfalls and even the occasional absurdity of going ‘viral’.

Perhaps best known now for his ongoing series of videos all about the English language and its own internal mess of contradictions and inconsistencies, Poynton has risen to 1.5 million followers on TikTok, and almost as many on Instagram. His account of how it happened, and some of the junctures along the way, makes for a charming, funny and enlightening look into a very modern digital success story.

From the halcyon days of early internet chat rooms and messaging (‘ASL’, anyone?) through to dealing with imitators and Turkey-teethed wannabes ripping off his formula and work (sometimes word-for-word), Poynton proves a witty, disarmingly humble and often self-deprecating force. He’s a lovable, unpretentious core around which the madness of the past few years envelops.

“Poynton proves a witty, disarmingly humble and often self-deprecating force…. a lovable, unpretentious core…”

Did you know that Jamelia’s ‘Superstar’ is not only a cover, but indeed one that saw the singer incur the wrath of Denmark? What happens when a healthily skeptic social media influencer attends a ghost hunt in a basement? Why should you take particularly care when filming a video on Cameo for a nine-year old?

And can you guess which theatre production Poynton was invited to watch features the immortal, searing poetry of ‘Your films are shit and you like like a whore!’?

If it all sounds like something of an erratic cluster bomb, it’s testimony to Poynton’s irrepressible warmth and confidence as compere that it all works so well. Injecting laughs, randomness and an abundance of real-life anecdotes and observations at every turn, Influencer is an effortlessly funny and honest piece of work.

Poynton shines at the heart of it all, and is never afraid to poke fun at himself, too. Dipping into a kind of message board Gogglebox by ploughing the online reactions to his stamp escapades proves utterly hilarious. It turns out there are indeed nowt so queer – or flippant – as folk.

“…ebbs with real heart and humanity…”

But Influencer ebbs with real heart and humanity, too. There are soupçons of light stand up and the customary jabs at the likes of Rishi Sunak and Matt Hancock which are all great fun, but it’s when Poynton pivots from the funny that the show gains an extra sense of purpose and resonance. We share in his frustrations and anger as others mimic his work. We marvel at the healing, creative and affirming side of connections that only our digital and social media age have made possible, showcased in truly moving fashion with some of the beautiful artwork, creations and edits his fans have crafted.

By the time we are seeing and sharing in heartwarming comments and messages from people who his videos have helped when struggling to learn English, have provided comfort and memories for in place of an absent father, and in some cases are thanking him for having saved their lives, the full promise and potential of not just Influencer, but indeed the concept of the influencer as a whole, becomes movingly, stirringly realised. It’s beautiful stuff.

Occasionally, the timeline can get a little muddled. We go from a story where Poynter was sitting at quarter of a million followers to one not long after where he cites significantly fewer. But despite this very minor haphazardness, the overall arc of the piece, from cackling with laughter to being genuinely moved by its surprising earnestness and feel-good optimism, is confidently charted. And Poynton has a notable flair for making what is surely rehearsed and scripted feel spontaneous, natural, off the cuff.

It all makes for a moving, marvellous and quite masterful stamp of individuality from a voice and personality on the ascent. At a perfectly-pitched 75 minutes (without an interval), Poynton and his Accidental Influencer takes us on a blisteringly funny, brilliantly honest and beautifully uplifting journey through the highs and lows of social media superstardom, with all its associated frills, flourishes and foolishness. And at a time when it is so easy to be consumed by the idea of such platforms being a force for overwhelming negativity in the world, Poynton powerfully reminds us that we are all influencers of a fashion, and on funny, frustrating, fabulous journeys all of our own.