Sugar and spite and all things not so nice: Ellen Carnazza’s TV baking celebrity Petronella Parfait in Badapple Theatre Company’s Crumbs. Picture: Karl Andre
IN the week when jettisoned American TV institution The Late Show turned into the late show, as Stephen Colbert signed off, British TV’s favourite baking queen, Petronella Parfait, was cancelled too.
Mystery surrounds her disgraced exit, but ruthless, rather than rueful, Petronella is determined to bounce back, and tonight we are her audience – her “Crummies” – as she launches her online cookery channel, Dough My Gosh, as hot on gossip as tray bakes, as she looks to ride the social media influencer wave.
Will the cook crumble or rise anew like the dough for her signature Athenian Caraway Loaf? Will it be Crumbs of comfort or discomfort for the axed Bake-Up judge?
Find out in writer-director Kate Bramley’s latest comedy for Green Hammerton’s “theatre on your doorstep” rural-travelling troupe Badapple Theatre Company, newly installed as York Theatre Royal’s associate company for the next year.
To mark that partnership’s launch, Badapple are concluding their spring tour with four days of performances in the Theatre Royal Studio, where virtuoso Harrogate actress Ellen Carnazza is cooking on gas mark five as Petronella, the bad apple or good apple of the piece.
Bramley affectionately calls Carnazza “the hardest-working woman in theatre”, because although Petronella has an ego too big to accommodate anyone else in her kitchen, chameleon Carnazza will play multiple characters, foes, friends and family alike, glowing under the lights from so much physical exertion in this one-woman show of two 45-minute halves.
If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen, as the old chestnut says, but Carnazza’s Petronella can very much stand the (self-inflicted) heat and stay in Petronella’s Perfect Kitchen to bake the bread that audiences will devour at the finale.
Will they, however, swallow everything else she says as the layers surrounding the mystery of her swift exit are peeled back with each new interruption of her live broadcast that takes the form of a series of phone calls and interviews, where Carnazza is framed by an oversized mobile phone case. Already her West Country assistant Demelza Meek has walked out, tired of being her Cornish patsy and vowing to bring her down.
One by one, we meet Petronella’s mother, Lady Payne, a still glamorous former Bond Girl; barrister Gloria Gluten, who shared her schooldays, and Mrs Crumble, the Welsh cook from her childhood whose recipes she may well have purloined for her own gain.
As she fights to prove she does not put the fake into bake, secrets are exposed and everything collapses around her on AJ Lowe’s amusingly Mischief Theatre-echoing misbehaving kitchenette set, with its malfunctioning tap, tumbling shelf of cookbooks and non-stick apron hook, topped off by the lights going out.
Now her last friend and sponsor, Penny Puttanesca, proprietor of the neighbouring Pizza Inferno chain, with her Gina/Sophia Italian allure and Mafia hauteur, has finally had enough of her freeloading.
After so much back-and-forth patter and constant changes of voice and character, with the aid of scarves, hats and glasses, Carnazza and Bramley surpass it all with the Puttanesca family’s henchman, Big Tony, who says nothing yet everything behind dark glasses with shrugs, grimaces and the folding of arms, before Carnazza plays both Petronella and Big Tony on the chase with all the madcap joy of a cartoon, all the funnier for being conducted in a small space, maximum gesture, minimal movement.
Bramley’s Petronella Parfait is an absurdist caricature, even more so for her script revelling in more puns than buns, yet for all the comic exaggeration in Carnazza’s performance, Crumbs is bang-on in its exposé of the cult of celebrity.
Petronella is sweet on the TV surface, yet sour when the heat is on; more back off than Bake-Off. She is a baker as needy as kneady; constantly plugging products, pushing her “brand” and placing endorsements. Ultimately, her cherry on top cannot hide the soggy bottom beneath.
Your reward is a feast of laughs in a comedy with bite, followed by a chunk of bread at the close, whose “secret recipe “ can be unlocked by scanning the QR code on the back of the programme.
Purely by coincidence, what should be playing on the main stage next door but another story of a TV celebrity fighting for her career (after being exposed as a charlatan in losing a court case with £500,000 costs): namely psychic medium Sheila Gold in Jeremy Dyson & Andy Nyman’s twisted thriller The Psychic, now in the last week of its world premiere.
Badapple Theatre Company in Crumbs, York Theatre Royal Studio, baking at 2pm and 7.45pm today. Box office: 01904 623568 or yorktheatreroyal.co.uk.
