Review: Dracapella (Park Theatre)

Review by Lily Melhuish

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Reinventing a century‑old classic is a risky trick, but writers Dan Patterson and Jez Bond pull off a neat one here - combining showtunes and Dracula. Flipped on its head like a sleeping bat, gothic tropes are skewered, capes are choreographed, and the result is a festive oddity that trades screams for snappy harmonies and relentless wordplay. Dracapella sinks its teeth into the Dracula myth with a wink and a nudge, keeping the plot sketched rather than carved so the comedy can run riot.  It may not be your immediate choice for a Christmas classic, but the script’s expert cheek and a cast that sells every note will have even the sternest critic ho‑ho‑hoing. 

From the moment you enter, wind whistles, dogs howl, owls coo, and crickets chirp, conjuring a safely spooky mood that sets the tone for an evening of gleeful nonsense. Upstage, a gate-grill bristles with wigs, hats, and coats; wooden crates pile high with props and costumes, a rummage-sale playground primed for rapid-fire skits and sight gags. Jez Bond’s direction is slick and unfussy, never a prop out of place, which is saying something given how many fly across the stage. Box steps and powerful strides do the choreographic heavy lifting, exactly right for a packed stage and big voices; there’s no need for pirouettes when the performers fill the room so confidently.

This cast is stacked with recognisable talent. To no one's surprise, Keala Settle as Lucy is a pure crowd magnet. An audacious performer with an infectious grin and a voice as smooth as butter. Stephen Ashfield’s Harker is the brash, bold, and charmingly foolish hero of this familiar tale, alongside Lorna Want’s Mina, whose stunning soprano soars through the soundtrack with ease. Monique Ashe-Palmer and Ciarán Dowd hop accents and personas with cartoon agility, proving this is a company of deft voice actors as much as singers. With so many powerhouse solo artists, group numbers occasionally feel like a friendly duel rather than a seamless blend; harmonies can tilt out of balance when everyone’s pushing to out-slay the rest. 

The one soft spot is our titular vampire Dracula, played by Ako Mitchell, who unfortunately gets lost in chaos. Presented as an immortal, heartbroken widower rather than a blood thirsty, notorious monster, the result is a performance that’s more of a nibble than a bite. A sinister edge in this portrayal would raise the stakes and drive the narrative when the jokes grow weary.

Musically, the evening leans hard into the “cheesy wedding playlist”: Somebody to Love, Eye of the Tiger, At Last, A Thousand Years, and many more. They’re crowd-pleasers, but they don’t always fit the bill, crashing into scenes with all the subtlety of a bulldozer. I’m all for dad jokes, but I draw the line at dad music. A nicher, more colourful, modern setlist, or at least a tighter song-to-story fit, would lift this production from very fun to truly innovative. That said, joy is joy, and even when the choices don’t quite marry the moment, spirits stay high.

The secret weapon is ABH Beatbox (Alexander Belgarion Hackett). Every sound you hear - howls, bells, hooves, explosions - is made live by the performers, and ABH drives it with crisp, inventive precision. He watches each move carefully and reacts not just with sound but with physical presence, never passive, always the pulse. There’s a reason your ear keeps pricking; he’s the stealth star of the night. To all ticketholders and premature purchasers: let your eyes wander. ABH is giving his all and deserves to be seen.

Structurally, the show has the playful energy of an improv game, with cutscenes and sketches sprinkled throughout. It’s relentless in the best and riskiest ways: more, more, more, until the formula tips over the edge. Packed full of puns, the wordplay comes in tidal waves, double entendres, silly pronunciations, and dad jokes on tap. The pipeline can get predictable, but the zingers that catch you off guard are so good you forgive the groaners. Not every joke lands - the steak bake audience-participation gag, for instance, spends more than it earns - but the pace is so stuffed you never dwell long in the silence before another punchline arrives. Fourth-wall breaks abound; the room feels complicit, which suits the silly, conspiratorial tone.

Good squeaky-clean fun is the order of the night, but a few rougher edges - a darker Dracula, a braver playlist, a stricter edit on the skit count - could elevate it from merry to legendary. Still, Dracapella is hysterical in both senses: laughter that borders on delirium and a tone that refuses to take itself too seriously. It’s a fast, fang-filled treat that’s thoroughly moreish.

Dracapella plays at Park Theatre until 17th January. Tickets from https://allthatdazzles.londontheatredirect.com/musical/dracapella-tickets

Photos by Craig Sudgen