- Elliot Roberts
- 19 August 2015
This article is from 2015.
Superbolt Theatre deliver rip-roaring DIY spectacle on the nature of fandom
With the latest incarnation of Steven Spielberg’s box-office predator Jurassic Park recently in the cinemas, Superbolt Theatre’s stage production could hardly be more timely. However, rather than a rigid, abridged staging of the events from the 1993 film (such as One Man Lord of the Rings), this Jurassic Park is set in a Lyme Regis community centre.
The Park family are mourning their dearly departed paleontologist mother and wife, Madeline Park, in an oddball but moving memorial. Episodes from the family’s troubled past are interwoven with re-enactments of the 1993 film (the late Madeline's favourite movie) by flannel-shirted struggling father, Terry (Frode Gjerløw), eye-rolling angst-ridden teen, Jade (Maria Askew) and the impishly excitable Noah (Simon Meader).
Superbolt deliver no shortage of iconic moments and references from the film, played to brilliantly comic effect in lovably DIY spectacle; from a hive-minded and ever-jittering Jeff Goldblum, to that ominously tremoring glass of water that signifies the start of the blustering T rex chase.
In stark contrast to the blockbuster special effects of the big screen, the Lecoq-trained company's stripped back, inventive stagecraft realises events with a brio and precision that is a joy to watch and more than a little reminiscent of Alan Partridge’s 'Stop getting Bond wrong' routine, complete with a grab-bag of 90s nostalgia references from Pokémon to Britney Spears.
At its best, Jurassic Park meshes together the island world of the dinosaurs and the Park family's Devon. The highlights are both side-splittingly incongorous – in the case of a phone call from a counsellor regarding Jane attacking the fences at school – to a touching reflection on the attachments that we form with our favourite films.
In moving beyond a simple retelling of the material, Jurassic Park manages to revel gleefully in the sharing of a collective memory in a way that is both touching and hilarious.
Assembly Roxy, 623 3030, until 30 Aug, 6.50pm, £10–£12.