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Mary Poppins review: This five-star Poppins is full of chim chim cher-ee, writes PATRICK MARMION
James Powell's reboot of Richard Eyre's 2019 production, launched at London's Prince Edward Theatre, has somehow got better on the road.
And although directors Philip J. Morris and Xanthus attempt to derail them all with an assault course of props crammed onto a tiny stage in this 90-seater theatre, we leave grateful to have learned more about this intriguing man, who died in April last year. While her son was growing up, in the 1960s and 1970s, she… pretended to be dead, failed to pick him up from a boarding school (which she couldn’t afford), attempted to bribe inspectors at her dodgy old people’s home, and turned their Surrey residence into a gay guest house called ‘Homolulu’. Oliver Dawe’s production struggles to create any dramatic unity, and isn’t helped by the fact that Louie Whitemore’s all-white set design lacks much sense of time or place.
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