WILL LEAVE YOU WITH A SMILE ON YOUR FACE

By Emma Carney | Bunny Pudding · Digital Coven · @bunnyscopes ⭐⭐⭐ | Press Invite

Let me start with a confession. I went into Shantify hoping for beards, woolly jumpers, a few mismatched pints, and a group of lads who looked like they had just stumbled in from a fishing trawler. You know the vibe – earthy, a bit rough around the edges, the kind of unpolished charm that makes sea shanties feel like they belong to actual human beings rather than a West End stage. So when I say I left disappointed, it is not because the cast lacked talent. It is because they had almost too much of it.

Shantify is, for all intents and purposes, a jukebox musical with a thin plot and a lot of fourth-wall-breaking. The premise is simple enough: a crew of performers called The Barnacle Buoys are preparing for a gig at a seaside pub. What follows is a parade of pop classics, musical theatre anthems, and rock hits, all given the sea-shanty treatment. In theory, this should be a recipe for a riotously good time. And for many in the audience, it clearly was. The room was buzzing, people were clapping along, and laughter rang out around me all evening. I am very aware that I was in the minority in being a bit ‘It was ok’ about it all. 

But here is the thing. For me, Shantify was just a wee bit too polished. Every single performer on that stage – Joe Bishop, Cal T King, Jack Whittle, Alfie French, Michael Riseley, and Ollie Wray – has clearly spent time on a West End stage. They know their best angles. They know exactly where the light will catch them. They hit every harmony with surgical precision. And somehow, that is exactly what drained the magic away for me. The joy of a sea shanty, in my humble opinion, comes from its earthiness. It comes from the sense that the people singing it are larking about, that they might miss a note or crack a smile, that they are having a proper knees-up rather than delivering a technically flawless performance. Shantify gave me flawless. I wanted messy. 

The song choices are a mixed bag. A shantified version of Dolly Parton’s *9 to 5* opens the show with energy, and there are moments where the formula clicks – particularly when the cast leans into the absurdity of transforming modern pop hits into something that sounds *maybe* like it could be centuries old. But after a while, the novelty wears thin. 

There are several narratives, such as subplot about one character auditioning for a talent show called “Britain’s Got Shanties” in front of a judge named “Simon Seaman”, but really this is a show built around getting to each song whilst the narrative takes a back seat. The show openly mocks its own ridiculousness and by the second half, the storyline has largely been abandoned in favour of just singing at us. 

The vocal arrangements are undeniably impressive. When these six men lock into a harmony, it is genuinely beautiful. A version of You’ll Never Walk Alone lands with real power, and their unexpected transformation into the queens from SIX is camp, clever, and technically astounding. I cannot fault their talent. I just could not fall in love with the package. They were offering me the new, shiny, younger and sexy captain Birdeye, and well, this Queen yearned for the snow bearded, older ‘Ah!’ Captain Birdseye. Both are valid (and yes I am in therapy over this realisation about myself) 

This is a me problem. I walked in wanting Fisherman’s Friends and got something closer to a boy band in cosplay. The audience around me adored it. They were on their feet by the final number, cheering and singing along. So if you love polished, high-energy, perfectly executed gig theatre with a heavy dose of self-aware humour, you will probably give Shantify five stars. But if you, like me, were secretly hoping for a few wobbly notes, a genuine pint, and the smell of the sea rather than the smell of West End polish, you might leave feeling a little ‘meh’.

Three stars. Full of fun, frolics and great for families – certainly will leave you with a smile on your face. 

Shantify is running at Underbelly Boulevard Soho until Sunday 14 June.

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Photo Credit: Danny With A Camera