Christmas Carol Goes Wrong - UK Tour Review
- Thomas Levi

- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
★★★★★
Just when you think Mischief Theatre have scraped every last inch of material from the amateur dramatics barrel, they come bounding back with another festive offering in their ever-expanding Goes Wrong universe. Christmas Carol Goes Wrong takes on Dickens’s most familiar story and gleefully drags it through the chaos of missed cues, outlandish sets, and egos run amok. But after more than a decade of Cornley Dramatic Society disasters, the question remains: is this merely a reheated helping of past glories, or has Mischief found something genuinely new lurking within Dickens?

The show begins not in Victorian London, but in an audition room, as the Cornley Dramatic Society assembles to stage their ambitious production of A Christmas Carol. We meet the familiar troupe of well-meaning but wildly underprepared performers as roles are assigned, tempers flare, and director Chris Bean asserts his control. What follows is their ill-fated attempt to bring Dickens’s ghostly morality tale to life, complete with malfunctioning scenery, forgotten lines, technical disasters, and personal vendettas that spill onto the stage. As Scrooge’s story attempts to unfold, the production spirals further out of control, proving that for Cornley, nothing ever goes quite to plan.
What is immediately striking about Christmas Carol Goes Wrong is how fresh it feels. This is not simply The Play That Goes Wrong with a festive paint job, nor does it lean too heavily on slapstick or collapsing scenery to carry the comedy, certainly not as much as its predecessors did. Instead, this production feels more confident, more mature, and, crucially, more character-led. The comedy is still broad, physical, and riotous, but it is underpinned by careful structure, long-form joke setups, and payoffs that reward the audience's attention.
The opening audition sequence is a masterclass in establishing comic characters. Each member of the Cornley society is given a distinct moment to shine, using a range of comedic techniques, including repetition, absurdity, and misplaced sincerity, to instantly remind us who these people are. It is efficient, economical, and laugh-out-loud funny, placing the audience in familiar territory with some easy laughs while laying the foundations for the chaos to come.
From there, the society meeting that follows may not generate the evening’s biggest laughs, but it is doing far more important work. The model set introduced here becomes one of the production’s most satisfying comedic devices, repeatedly manipulated, damaged, and recontextualised throughout the show. Just when you think every possible joke has been mined from it, Mischief manage to wring out another, each time with pinpoint timing.

After eleven years of uninterrupted success in the West End, Mischief Theatre know exactly what works and, perhaps more importantly, what doesn’t. This show is polished to a gleaming finish. Every mishap is meticulously choreographed, every apparent accident executed with total control. The illusion of chaos is so complete that it is easy to forget just how technically demanding this kind of comedy is.
Henry Lewis’s Robert is a triumph of comic ego. His portrayal of the grandiose, self-important am-dram actor is razor sharp, delivered with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how funny he is being. Lewis has lived inside this character for so long now that every inflexion, every elongated vowel, every tortured pronunciation of a single word is a gift. Watching him spin something as simple as the word “yes” into an absurd, multi-syllabic monologue is comedy precision at its finest.
Jonathan Sayer’s Dennis remains one of the most endearing figures in the Mischief canon. His inability to remember his lines never grows stale, largely because the methods he uses to compensate are endlessly inventive. Scripts appear in increasingly unlikely places, and the audience quickly finds itself scanning the set, trying, and failing, to predict where his next lifeline will emerge from. You root for him, even as his presence pushes the production closer to collapse.
Daniel Fraser steps into the well-established role of Chris Bean with impressive assurance. While the character was originated by Henry Shields, Fraser captured Chris’s authoritarian streak and artistic desperation while injecting a fresh energy into the role. A moment of audience interaction was a particular highlight, allowing Fraser to play off the room with ease and confidence.
Chris Leask’s Trevor, the perpetually unimpressed Scouse technician, is given more to do here than in previous outings, and it suits him immensely. His deadpan delivery, odd physicality, and utter inability to convincingly “act” when dragged on stage make him a constant source of laughter. Leask understands exactly how little he needs to do to be funny, and when to do absolutely nothing at all.
Nancy Zamit’s Annie may have a smaller role than in some earlier Goes Wrong productions, but she makes every moment count. Her turn as the Ghost of Christmas Past is inspired; her ability to manipulate a simple costume pays off with massive comic effect. One could only wish to be a fly on the wall during the workshopping of a Mischief production; I’m sure even the stuff that winds up on the cutting room floor has sparks of comic genius.

The only slight drawback is the predictability of the character arcs. Like The Wizard of Oz, everyone sets off already knowing what they want: Max longs for his acting certificate, Jonathan is desperate to conquer his fear of heights, and Robert is determined to land a lead role (preferably involving nudity). These are simple, almost childlike wants, and it’s never in doubt that they will be earned by the final curtain. But in truth, this feels less like a misstep and more like a conscious choice. These arcs add warmth and heart to the show, and by the time they resolve, you are too invested in the chaos to mind that you saw them coming.
Also, there are a handful of gags that linger a beat too long; Jacob Marley’s chains are the most notable example. Plus, there is the sense that the occasional joke could have been trimmed for sharper impact, or that the ‘ultimate chaos’ moments that end both acts are a little gratuitous. But these are minor indulgences in a production that otherwise moves with relentless momentum.
By the final curtain, Christmas Carol Goes Wrong has achieved something deceptively difficult: it feels both reassuringly familiar and excitingly new. It celebrates everything audiences love about Mischief Theatre while pushing their comedy into richer, more character-driven territory. I don’t think it is said often enough how complicated it is to craft a genuinely funny farce. This show just reinforces why the Mischief Theatre has the longest-running comedy in West End history: they know what they are doing!
Whether you are a long-time fan of the Goes Wrong franchise or a newcomer looking for a night of unashamed laughter, this production delivers. It is chaotic, clever, and full of heart, a treat that proves Mischief Theatre are far from running out of ideas.




















































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