Camelot, Watermill Theatre, Newbury, review: this medieval musical is all moat and no castle

“Longer than the Gotterdammerung… and not nearly as funny!” No?l Coward is reputed to have quipped on seeing the protracted (four and a half hour) world premiere of Lerner and Loewe’s Camelot in Toronto in 1960.

Afflicted by director Moss Hart having a heart attack and Lerner getting a stomach ulcer, the pair’s arduously achieved follow-up to My Fair Lady was duly pruned and – graced by Richard Burton as King Arthur and Julie Andrews as Guenevere – did respectable business on Broadway, during which time it acquired the boosting fandom of JFK. Yet even at the time it looked much inferior to their earlier masterpiece.

And even running now at just 80 minutes in an outdoor concert staging at the Watermill, it feels like it’s all moat and no castle. Caught twixt jest and earnest, pre-Python but aware of chivalry’s pomposity, song after song trots by, tilting between effortful comedy and chaste emoting. It’s soporific stuff; were it not for the fresh air I’d have slept-a-lot.

No question, it’s a miracle that in a matter of weeks director Paul Hart has marshalled and rehearsed a company of 10 (the majority actor-musicians) and ensured they can take their place in a socially distanced way on a pavilion-style stage festooned with coats of arms and fairy-lights. I salute the collective effort and applaud individual contributions. As Guenevere, Caroline Sheen has a presence and voice as gleaming as a polished goblet. Her real-life husband Michael Jibson – an Olivier-winning King George in Hamilton – exudes an essential Arthurian decency even if, in his suited attire, he hardly looks battle-ready. Marc Antolin’s conceited Lancelot has his moments, too. It’s largely (understandably) a script in hand affair, but the problem is the by-the-book nature of the material. That holy grail of musicals, a vital raison d’etre, is missing.

Until Sept 5. Info: 01635 46044; watermill.org.uk