On 12 April 2026, I took my mum to see The Play That Goes Wrong at the Duchess Theatre for her birthday! She really seemed to enjoy herself; she commented that it was lovely to see a play where the audience was so clearly really into it. I was very pleased.
We had a different Robert and Dennis from the last time I went to see The Play That Goes Wrong, on 8 February! I was looking forward to seeing Robert Jackson in the role of Robert again, so it's a bit of a shame he wasn't there. Both Roberts did a good job, though, and it was interesting to see the differences! It must be so hard to play a role knowing that a large proportion of the audience will already have seen someone else in it on account of The Goes Wrong Show, particularly when that 'someone else' happens to be the handsomest man in the world.
One lost detail I liked from Jackson's Robert was him sitting against the wall for several minutes after the set collapsed, his hand over his face, in absolute despair. However, the Robert this time did some good cowering in terror during the collapse of the set, and we got this great Robert moment, which I don't recall from the last performance (although it probably did happen; my memory isn't great!):
Robert: I must check my bank records once more. If you'll excuse me.
(Robert, trapped under a desk on an increasingly sloping upper platform, is clearly unable to leave.)
Robert: If you'll excuse me.
(All the other actors just stare at him.)
Robert: That means CARRY ON WITH THE SCENE! You're a nightmare, the lot of you.
This Robert also improvised for longer to cover things up after rushing on stage to extinguish the fire in the coal scuttle; I think last time it was something along the lines of 'Sorry, wrong room.' This time, Robert hesitated for a long moment before coming out with 'Just... doing my rounds.' (long pause) 'The level of coal in the library is very low, and... consequently... so is the mood. I will be taking this coal scuttle... as your mood... appears to be fine.'
One detail that remained consistent across performances, and which I wasn't sure would happen every night: Sandra's thighs once again ended up wrapped around Robert's neck when she was pulled through the window. Thank you for this gift specifically and exclusively for me, the only Robert/Sandra shipper in the world.
Last time, Jonathan propelled himself across the room while playing a corpse by lying on the floor and, for lack of a better description, twerking vigorously. This time, it was more of a mixture of scuttling and sliding. I wonder how much his corpse locomotion varies from night to night.
I love how annoyed Chris gets whenever Max joins in with the audience's applause.
Tragically, this audience was very well behaved and no one called out to tell Chris that the ledger was under the chaise longue, so we didn't get him furiously lecturing us on theatre etiquette. It's nice to have that confirmation that they're not using audience plants, though; the audience only gets a lecture if someone genuinely interrupts!
It was a weird moment for me! I knew that, theoretically, I could call out; there was a part of me that really wanted to. I knew it would result in a scene the audience would enjoy! I knew the actors were hoping for it! But I cannot yell at the stage in a theatre. I just don't have it in me.
I really enjoy it when Robert accidentally knocks out their sole remaining actress and Chris collapses on his knees onto the chaise longue, pounding it with his fists, screaming 'NO! NO!' (Robert, meanwhile, just presses his head against the wall in despair.)
When Trevor was instructed to act out a hysterical episode, he wiggled his bottom while going 'I think I'm really ill' for a perplexingly long time, then added, still wiggling, '...I'm not sure where to go from here.' Eventually, he decided on where to go from there; he approached Chris, went, 'You're an inspector, right? Inspect THIS,' and shoved his arse at him.
Before the play, Trevor goes around asking if anyone's seen a dog; in the end, with nothing to play the role of the dog, the actors simply pretend an invisible dog is present. As we left the theatre, Trevor's actor (Ronnie Yorke, who is fantastic in the role) was collecting for charity, so I had the opportunity to speak briefly to Trevor as I donated:
Riona: The dog never turned up?
Trevor: Yeah, well, there's always... not tomorrow, 'cause we've got a day off. There's always Tuesday, isn't there?
Riona: Well, if it's still missing by then, you could ask Robert to play the dog. I'm sure he'd be happy to have more stage time.
Trevor, deadpan: Yeah, he's got basically no lines. I'll just play it myself.