Written by Harry Michaels and Allan Stewart

With Additional Material by Matt Slack, Grant Stott, and Jordan Young

Directed by Ed Curtis

Review by Dominic Corr

The Festival Theatre

Edinburgh’s Festival Theatre has become the temporary kingdom of festive excess while the King’s finishes its extended nap, and Jack and the Beanstalk arrives with all the swagger you’d expect from the city’s reigning panto triumvirate. With the boys back in town; Allan Stewart, Grant Stott, and Jordan Young, they’re joined with co-conspirators Clare Gray, Gail Watson, and Amber Sylvia Edwards — this is a production that knows its audience, a West End face, but a Scottish voice, and knows its strengths, and knows exactly how to milk a joke until it’s gasping for air.

Stewart’s Dame May McTrot is a tartan hurricane, all bustle and bite, delivering punchlines with the confidence of a man who’s been doing this since before the beanstalk sprouted. While Stott’s Fleshcreep is a gloriously hammy villain, glowering with pantomime menace while clearly having the time of his life. Often having the best material, and the lengthier segments, there’s a de-facto sense of Stott driving much of the momentum, along with Young’s Jack who is affable, energetic, and just dim enough to make the magic beans fiasco believable. Together, the trio operate like a well‑oiled machine — or perhaps a slightly chaotic tractor — ploughing through the material with gusto.

Let’s start with the obvious: the set design is spectacular. This is the London Palladium production transplanted north, and it shows. The titular beanstalk makes an appearance (no spoilers) and is the definition of a showstopper, the kind of theatrical flex that makes the audience gasp.The visual effects are lavish, the costumes shimmer like they’ve been polished by elves on commission, and the whole thing has a scale that feels almost indecent for a family show. It’s a feast — occasionally over‑seasoned, but undeniably impressive. It’s brimming with detail, the small buildings to suggest a cloud-scaped town at the top of the beanstalk – and the colours traverse toxic limes for villainy, to near sensual crimsons and regal purples.

Karen Martin’s choreography is another standout. The ensemble moves with a precision that elevates the chaos, giving the production a rhythmic backbone even when the script wanders off for a wander. And wander it does. The story — such as it is — has been chopped, sautéed, and served as a loose collection of skits, riffs, and running gags. Narrative purists may despair, but the audience doesn’t seem to mind; they’re here for the patter, not the plot.

The remainder of the cast provide additional magic: Gail Watson brings a bright, buoyant presence as the Spirit of the Beans, opening the show with a vocal flourish that sets the bar high. And Amber Sylvia Edwards’ Princess Jill is charming and grounded, a great double-act with Clare Gray’s Pat the Cow is as a real crowd‑pleaser, hoofing her way through the action with surprising agility.

But let’s not pretend everything is rosy in cloudland. Some of the humour strays perilously close to a blue territory, a staple choice for some pantomime, but feels ‘off-colour’ for the King’s Panto. And while some adults roar, a few parents exchange the kind of side‑eye that says, “You can explain what that means”, one song in particular diving the room. The production’s brashness is part of its charm at times, but it occasionally tips into excess — a fart gag too far, a wink too knowing, a joke that lands with a thud rather than a cheer. But where the humour might not fully flourish – the visuals, and stellar sounds of Andy Pickering’s musical direction make for a show which punches out into the Auld Reekie streets.

A giant panto with giant laughs — and the occasional giant eyebrow‑raise, these quibbles don’t derail the fun. Jack and the Beanstalk is loud, lavish, and unapologetically daft: it’s a panto that delivers spectacle by the bucketload and comedy by the shovel. It may be light on story, but it’s heavy on entertainment, and sometimes that’s exactly what a festive audience wants: A proper giant of a show? Aye. Even if some of the jokes are taller than the beanstalk. It’s a fitting send off to the Festival Theatre’s tenure of caretaker for the home of Pantomime: we’ve been lucky to be here; but for Pinocchio in 2026? It’s back home to the King’s.

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