Monty Python’s Spamalot arrives in Melbourne with a stripped-back production, a celebrity leading man and a cast that ultimately proves more than capable of carrying the show.
Going into Spamalot, I had some reservations.
Looking at the cast list beforehand, it seemed obvious that a certain amount of fame and notoriety had been factored into the production. Most notably, Stephen Curry was making his musical theatre debut as King Arthur, alongside performers including Jaz Flowers and social media personalities such as Nick White.
There appeared to have been a significant investment in casting recognisable names. That inevitably raised a question: had that investment come at the expense of some of the other elements that make a large-scale musical feel, well, large?
Those questions became more apparent before the curtain even went up.
This is a noticeably stripped-back production. There is no live orchestra, the theatre is sharing its building with another production running simultaneously, and the physical set is relatively limited. Instead, a large screen and projected video do much of the work of transporting the audience between locations. The projections are well executed, but they are clearly doing the heavy lifting that more elaborate physical sets, additional cast members and live musicians might otherwise provide.
For a moment, I wondered whether the aim had been to create the best possible production of Spamalot, or whether the priority had been to create a commercially attractive production around recognisable names.
Thankfully, that concern was largely dispelled once the performances began.
Because Spamalot is an incredibly delightful show. It is almost impossible to imagine leaving this production without a smile on your face. There is something almost theme-park-like about the experience, with the sheer energy, silliness and commitment making it remarkably difficult not to have a good time.
And much of that comes down to the cast.
Stephen Curry is surprisingly well suited to King Arthur
There is a funny parallel between Stephen Curry making his musical theatre debut and the character he is playing. Curry is, in a sense, a fish out of water entering musical theatre for the first time. His version of King Arthur is also something of a fish out of water, a slightly clueless man suddenly declared king who now has to assemble his Knights of the Round Table.
That quality ends up working remarkably well for Curry.
His singing holds its own, particularly considering this is his first musical theatre role, but it is his acting that impressed me most. His facial expressions, physical movement, reactions and comic timing constantly drew my attention to wherever he was on stage. He seems to understand exactly how to play this slightly bewildered version of Arthur without pushing the character too far, and what could easily have felt like celebrity casting instead feels like a genuinely considered performance.
Jaz Flowers is extraordinary
If there was one performer I wanted more of, it was Jaz Flowers as the Lady of the Lake.
Flowers delivered one of the best live theatrical vocal performances I’ve witnessed in an Australian theatre production. The power, control and range of her voice are extraordinary, and every time she sings, the energy of the entire production and the audience seems to lift.
Which makes one of the show’s funniest moments even better.
When the Lady of the Lake finally emerges after being absent for much of Act Two to perform The Diva’s Lament (Whatever Happened to My Part?), she is essentially asking the exact question I had been asking myself. What happened to her part?
I genuinely wanted more of Jaz Flowers. Her appearance was such a highlight that the character complaining about not being on stage enough feels almost perfectly aligned with the audience’s own desire to hear her sing again. It is a wonderfully self-aware moment and one of the funniest parts of the production.
Jesse Vasiliadis surprises
Jesse Vasiliadis as Sir Lancelot threw me for the biggest loop.
During Act One, my initial instinct was to almost dismiss his Lancelot as an intentionally stereotypical, hyper-masculine handsome knight, a character who seemed as though he might be quite one-note.
I was wrong.
As Lancelot’s character develops and his sexuality becomes part of the comedy later in the show, Vasiliadis gets the opportunity to demonstrate considerably more range. He handles that transition extremely well, completely overturning my initial assumption about what his performance was going to be. What initially looked like a one-note performance turns out to have been only one part of a much broader comic performance.
Ethan Jones more than holds his own
Ethan Jones gives a strong performance as Sir Galahad, but what particularly impressed me was the challenge of sharing a major musical duet with Jaz Flowers.
When you are singing alongside someone with arguably the strongest voice in the production, it would be incredibly easy to disappear beside her. Jones doesn’t. He gives a genuinely excellent vocal performance and manages to match the energy required for their number without being overwhelmed by Flowers. That is no small achievement.
Gareth Isaac commands the stage
Gareth Isaac was possibly my favourite all-around acting performance of the night.
From essentially the moment he emerges through the stage floor near the beginning, Isaac has tremendous stage presence. My attention naturally moved towards him whenever he was involved in a scene, and what impressed me most was the completeness and consistency of the performance.
The acting, comedy, physicality, singing and general stage presence are all strong throughout. Outside of the production’s two central roles, he arguably commands the stage more consistently than anyone else. He feels completely at home in the material and never seems to drop either the character or the energy of the performance.
If I encountered him playing Sir Robin in a Broadway-level production of Spamalot, it wouldn’t feel remotely out of place.
The ensemble carries enormous responsibility
The stripped-back nature of the production arguably puts even more responsibility on the performers. There is less spectacle around them to carry a scene, so when the set isn’t doing the work, the cast has to.
The ensemble more than meets that challenge. The physical exertion, dancing, comedy, rapid costume changes and constant movement between different characters and roles are fantastic. More importantly, there isn’t an obvious weak link.
The standard remains remarkably consistent, including among performers without major named roles. With this kind of comedy, any drop in commitment can become obvious very quickly, but I never felt one.
Emily Huynh deserves a particular mention. She repeatedly caught my attention throughout the production, particularly during the Knights Who Say “Ni!” sequence and her mime role. She has a knack for making smaller moments memorable without unnecessarily pulling focus away from the larger scene.
Making the limitations work
A lot of credit belongs to director Drew Anthony and the broader creative, technical and backstage team.
Spamalot isn’t some obscure work where audiences arrive without expectations. It is a beloved cult comedy associated with Eric Idle and Monty Python, which means taking it on comes with a genuine risk of getting the tone wrong or producing something that feels like a pale imitation.
This production avoids that.
Given the apparent limitations of the physical production compared with what you might see in a much larger staging, the direction has to maximise the value of the performers, pacing, comedy, projections and available space. That resourcefulness ultimately becomes one of the production’s strengths.
One of my favourite moments came when the fourth wall was broken and actual backstage members briefly became actors on stage while simultaneously carrying out their crew duties. It was ridiculous, unexpected and completely in keeping with the spirit of the show.
There is also a sense that the actors have been given enough freedom to respond to the energy in the room. Certain lines feel as though they have room to breathe, timing can shift, and there are moments where performers appear to play with the audience rather than simply delivering a perfectly rehearsed sequence of lines.
For comedies like Spamalot, that matters. It makes the production feel alive rather than mechanically reproduced.
A production that wins you over
I went into Spamalot questioning some of its pre-production choices. The recognisable casting had made me wonder whether production value had been sacrificed in the pursuit of commercial appeal, while the lack of a live orchestra and reliance on projections initially reinforced that suspicion.
By the end of the night, I didn’t particularly care.
The strength of the cast, the ensemble, the direction and the backstage execution completely overcome those concerns. What could have felt like a compromised or stripped-back Spamalot instead becomes something much more distinctive: a production that knows exactly how to use the resources it has and puts an enormous amount of faith in the people on stage.
And those people deliver.
It’s silly, energetic, occasionally chaotic and relentlessly entertaining. Most importantly, it’s fun.
You leave Spamalot with a smile on your face, and for a show this committed to making you laugh, that’s probably the most important thing it could achieve.
