22 – 24 January

Hailing from Clevedon in North Somerset, Living Spit is in its fourteenth year. Despite the loss of one its founders, Howard Coggins, in 2024, the company has built on his legacy and has continued to build a loyal fan base across the region, gaining five-star reviews along the way for its A-grade silliness, gentle satire and take-down of anything ‘up itself’. The Tobacco Factory was full for this zany interpretation of the 17^th century French tale by the wonderfully named Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve.

Aided only by an armchair, a doorway on wheels, a stool, guitar and ukulele, actors Stu McLoughlin and Harry Humberstone first appear bedecked in ‘French’ stripy T-shirts sagely sucking on bent pipes. Setting out a narrative peppered with amusingly self-conscious reflections on the role of the narrator itself – a kind of fourth wall connection with the audience, the obvious theatrical chemistry between these two was great fun to witness. With the sense that our intelligence was being respected, we were all on board with the resulting nonsense that followed.

Taking most of the 1991 Disney animated feature film version of the story as its template (the overbearing oaf Gaston is thankfully jettisoned), we meet McLoughlin as Maurice, described here as a ‘non-specific merchant’, and father to ‘beautiful’ daughter Belle, given equal dollops of sweet nature and petulance by the wonderfully expressive Humberstone, easily overcoming a follically-challenged hairline to convince us of his feminine side. Both will later animate as the Beast with hilarious results.

Living Spit clearly enjoys the opportunity to explore a story’s comedic capacity while delving into potential existential truths along the way. ‘Beauty’ is not simply a beautiful young woman finding her beau, it is a state of being with all that comes with the territory. One sequence, where the Beast and Belle realise they are both prisoners of their looks hits some deeper notes. Yet always with immaculate timing, unapologetic potty humour or brief entrées into song ­– ‘All by Myself’, the ‘Thinking Song’ and later with great effect, ‘Stockholm Syndrome’, the piece could afford to dally with morbidity. There is some delightful modernising of the tale. Beast and Belle stoke their burgeoning love affair with an emoji-strewn text exchange, and a spell-check moment that floors the audience.

An hour and a half on stage, there is never a dull moment thanks to Director Craig Edwards’ stirring of the elements. In one passage in which Belle is rushing back to the chateau to declare her love for the stricken Beast, her repeated pell-mell dash through the single door on stage has us all in hysterics. The very funny and well-observed body language between Beast and Belle as they begin to develop hotter feelings for each other is enormous fun to witness, while the quick-fire changes of character – Maurice to Beast, Belle to Beast are worthy of being compared to classic silent comedy skits.

★★★★★  Simon Bishop, 23 January 2026