It’s hard to imagine how The Producers ever came to be made back in 1967, let alone staged in 2025. Just like the show within the show, anything that deals with Hitler and the far right has got to flop, right? Such thinking would have been understandable 22 years after the end of the Second World War, and it feels just as relevant now with the disturbing rise of the far right.

Consider too that just days before Flicker attended a performance of the current staging of Mel Brooks’ show at London’s Garrick Theatre there had been a mass protest in the capital organised by far right groups. Add to that the visit of the US President from a country that has seen a rapid growth in far right ideology, with Nazi salutes openly displayed at political rallies.

So the unfurling of giant red banners, goose step choreography, and the ensemble singing “Heil Hitler” during “Springtime for Hitler” might feel more than a little uncomfortable. Is this appropriate? Should we instead be shining a light on work that confronts such ideologies in other ways? These are valid questions. But staging a show like this still feels like the right move.

Laughter is a powerful tool. By presenting Hitler as an ultra gay, wannabe Judy Garland diva, the show robs him and everything he stood for of power. As the characters say in the show, “You don’t need us” to make a fool of Hitler. The same is true of the far right today. As Mel Brooks himself has said: “Once you make fun of them and you drag them down with comedy, you win. When you can get people to laugh at them, you win.” And here, people are laughing loudly and often. The sense of release in the theatre is clear, with whole rows shaking with laughter during the big musical numbers.

The Producers follows failed Broadway producer Max Bialystock (Andy Nyman). After his latest flop, he turns to his accountant Leo Bloom (Marc Antolin) to fudge the books and raise money from a roster of outrageously horny elderly female donors. Bloom then discovers the big idea: you can make more money with a flop than a hit. Max seizes the plan and the pair decide to stage the worst musical ever in the hope of making $2 million. Their chosen show is Springtime for Hitler, written by Nazi loyalist Franz Liebkind (Harry Morrison). With the worst director in town Roger DeBris (Trevor Ashley) and the dazzling Ulla (Joanna Woodward) added to the team, Leo and Max are set. Though of course, things do not quite go their way.

The show moves at pace. Scenes are kept short with sharp dialogue, silly gags, and the occasional bit of slapstick. Songs are equally brisk, giving the cast room to shine. Antolin brings real charm to Leo, making him far more likeable than Matthew Broderick in the 2005 movie. Nyman is strong as Max, though at times edges close to Nathan Lane’s portrayal. Ashley, Woodward, and Morrison are clear standouts, commanding their scenes and drawing big laughs. Especially memorable is Trevor Ashley’s Roger DeBris, who takes every moment to camp excess and nearly steals the show. Special mention also goes to Woodward for her soaring vocals, adding a touch of Broadway glamour to this not so classic tale. The ensemble also deserve praise, at various times becoming pigeons, statues, fire, and tap dancing Hitler youth with total commitment and comic timing.

The staging leans into spectacle. Mark Henderson’s lighting shifts from bright Broadway sparkle to darker cabaret tones, giving the absurdity an extra punch. William Ivey Long’s costumes match the mood, from glittering gowns to military uniforms made ridiculous through camp exaggeration. The set pieces move smoothly, keeping the energy high, and the whole production has a rhythm that keeps the audience locked in.

As a parody of show business, the production embraces the feel of an old school musical, complete with high kicking chorus lines, dazzling lights, and spectacle. “Springtime for Hitler” is an undeniable highlight, matched by Leo and Ulla’s duet “That Face” and the witty “I Wanna Be a Producer.”

The production is at its strongest when it leans fully into the absurd. That absurdity is what allows it to work, stripping away the menace of its subject matter and turning it into a ridiculous spectacle. For a couple of hours, theatre becomes a place to laugh at the things that frighten us most. It is a reminder that comedy can still disarm hate, and for the audience, it feels like a welcome escape.

Many things here are brilliant, from the cast to the design and the humour that cuts deep. It may not reinvent the show for a new generation, but it delivers a sharp, funny, and hugely entertaining night out. This is a solid four star production.

Now playing at the Garrick Theatre, London
Booking until 28 February 2026
Tickets available at nimaxtheatres.com

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