Scissorhandz review – cackling camp meets real heartache in jukebox musical take on Tim Burton

<span>‘There isn’t a bum note’: Lauren Jones as Kim and Jordan Kai Burnett as Scissorhandz.</span><span>Photograph: Tristram Kenton/the Guardian</span>
‘There isn’t a bum note’: Lauren Jones as Kim and Jordan Kai Burnett as Scissorhandz.Photograph: Tristram Kenton/the Guardian

This musical reimagining of Tim Burton’s goth melodrama Edward Scissorhands, soundtracked by a selection of pop hits, has been making waves in LA as a festive fringe show since 2018. Now it sashays into London with a “z” appended to the title and a new roster of songs: out with Taylor Swift, Madonna and Abba; in with a collage of deeper cuts, from Evanescence and Imagine Dragons to Tom Jones.

Whatever the reason behind this chop and change, some of the more ponderous ballads lend Bradley Bredeweg’s explicitly queer retelling (the show is produced by Drag Race’s Michelle Visage and ‘N Sync’s Lance Bass) a rather straight flavour. The new additions might earn their keep if they slotted more neatly into the contours of the plot: it’s hard to say exactly why our non-binary hero breaks into American Authors’ 2013 hit Best Day of My Life to voice their sudden ambition to become a hairdresser, nor why Scissorhandz’s adoptive mother belts out Radiohead’s Creep in the 11 o’clock slot. Still, it’s belted impeccably by Emma Williams, whose warm portrayal of harried Avon lady Peg brings welcome dramatic heft to the production.

The central genius of the 1990 film is its seamless blend of heightened hysterics and emotional earnestness. Here, these two strands are shorn down the middle: the show lurches from cackling camp – with a delicious turn by Annabelle Terry as unhinged neighbour Esmeralda – to straight-faced heartache, provided by Lauren Jones and Jordan Kai Burnett as the leading lovers.

In its journey from Hollywood and Vine to Elephant and Castle, Scissorhandz has lost none of its thrown-together charm. If it misses the density of bangers it enjoyed in California, or the conviction and musicality of Matthew Bourne’s ballet version, there isn’t a bum note or a missed chance for a gag. At one point Scissorhandz trims the neighbours’ hedges in a shower of paper flakes to a choral accompaniment of Leona Lewis’s Bleeding Love. Shears to that.