Written by Henry Lewis, Henry Shields, and Jonathan Sayer

Directed by Matt DiCarlo

Review by Dominic Corr

The Festival Theatre

The festive season often brings with it a parade of Dickens adaptations, each promising warm familiarity, heartfelt morality, and a sprinkling of theatrical snow. Ans yes, February counts as the festive season – at least in the roguish Mischief Theatre manner. A timeless show: few companies are as determined to derail that cosy predictability as Mischief: rather than a misty‑eyed stroll through Victorian sentiment, this production leans into theatrical turbulence; wrapping tinsel around disaster and presenting a version of A Christmas Carol that gleefully descends into backstage pandemonium before the first ghost even has time to rattle a chain.

Mischief Theatre’s A Christmas Carol Goes Wrong arrives at The Festival Theatre as part of the company’s 2026 tour, embracing the familiar Cornley Drama Society formula while rebalancing its comedic weight towards dialogue and character‑driven dysfunction rather than the densely staged physical mishaps that have defined earlier Mischief productions. The show frames itself around the Cornley troupe’s chaotic attempt to stage their own take on the Dickens classic, with the emphasis shifting noticeably to spoken comedy, verbal misfires, and personality clashes.

This recalibration is established from the outset, with the rehearsal‑room structure providing a natural build of tensions and misalignments rather than a burst into farce. Almost all of this centres around Daniel Fraser’s performance as Chris, the increasingly strained director, gives the production an anchor point, highlighting the contrast between his rigid attempts at order and the ensemble’s escalating disarray. Fraser embodies the brittle authority figure whose control slips further with each misplaced prop or misinterpreted instruction, reinforcing the shift from spectacle‑based humour toward conflict‑driven absurdity in a predictable, but no-less impressive slip into Scroogish tendencies.

For those who thought the festive period was long over, design work from Libby Todd proves otherwise, enhancing this sense of orchestrated collapse while still capturing something special. Sets appear constructed with both function and inevitable failure in mind, occasionally substituting traditional scenic elements with unexpected objects that underscore Cornley’s endearing ineptitude. Lighting and sound maintain precision but refrain from overshadowing the character‑centred comedy. Rather than engineering a barrage of physical catastrophes, the technical team crafts a visual world that amplifies the spoken humour dominating the production’s structure.

Costuming supports this aesthetic of representative exaggeration. The spectral visitors—notably Henry Lewis and Nancy Zamit—achieve standout moments not because of trapdoors or collapsing rigs, but through oversized costumes and controlled physicality. Lewis’ oversized gift‑box costume for the Ghost of Christmas Present accentuates the comedic awkwardness of the moment and highlights the companies co-creator’s best talents, while Zamit’s performance as the Ghost of Christmas Past highlights a loose, flailing energy that aligns perfectly with the company’s signature style. Both rely on delivery, timing, and presence rather than the high‑wire practical illusions Mischief has deployed in the past. But it’s the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come who excels; complete with Scottish accent from Chris Leask.

Within the broader ensemble, Jonathan Sayer’s Dennis provides a steady stream of verbal confusion, leaning deeply into linguistic misunderstanding as the source of humour. Greg Tannahill’s Jonathan offers an intertextual nod to earlier Mischief productions, his fear of heights serving as a character‑driven in‑joke that complements the spoken comedy approach. Meanwhile, Leask’s rapid‑fire multi‑role sequence showcases technical agility within the production’s intentionally chaotic framework. These performances collectively reinforce a shift away from spectacle and towards rhythm, repartee, and layered character interaction.

Orchestrating this chaos is no small task, as direction from Matt DiCarlo keeps the narrative brisk and coherent, ensuring that even as verbal mishaps accumulate, the structure remains legible. At times, the reliance on spoken humour produces a degree of predictability; certain gags reach their punchlines earlier than the staging allows them to land, but the interplay among characters maintains enough variety to keep the momentum moving.

The production’s re‑orientation toward dialogue over the elaborate technical chaos sets it apart within the Mischief canon. By foregrounding character tension, sharp verbal comedy, and Cornley’s trademark creative confusion, A Christmas Carol Goes Wrong delivers a festive storm built on language, personality, and theatrical misadventure. Christmas may only come once a year; but the laughter goes all-year round.

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