So, South African extravaganza Madame Zingara rolls into town this week, promising not only 'decadent dining’ but also a 'heady combination of comedy, cirque and cabaret'. I pop down on the opening night to see whether the self-proclaimed 'Theatre of Dreams' (I thought that was Old Trafford, but anyway...) can live up to its own billing.
Initial impressions are mixed. Firstly, it's difficult to find. You'd have thought they could have lined the entrance to Battersea Power Station with red carpet, jugglers and fire-eaters or something. Maybe it's a security thing or maybe it's a budget thing, but, either way, we end up picking our way through a muddy concrete car park before eventually spying our destination.
But once we approach, it all begins to look like fun. There's a big heart-shaped archway, and a faux-grass walkway leading up to the entrance. On the door is a chap in roller-skates and a dress, some dude in a top-hat, and various busty South African wenches ready to show us to our table. Once inside, my lady friend is startled by a chap dressed as a gorilla, who leaps out of the shadows. I think I've trodden on her foot or something and begin apologising incessantly.
The interior is all rather entertaining, in a slightly ersatz kind of way. It's done out like a big Victorian circus tent with lots of glittering lights, faux-stained-glass windows, and big floral table decorations with nude Barbie-dolls on them. Once seated, we are given a quick run-down of what to expect by our waitress, who's sort of charming in a scary way. We are to get some food, then watch some show, then get some more food, then watch some more show, then get some more food etc etc, until we can't take any more.
So what's it like? Well the food is not as good as it thinks it is. The antipasto is fine, but the accompanying soup tastes a bit like the sauce from Spaghetti Hoops. For main-course I opt for the Chocolate Chilli Beef because it's apparently the Madame Zingara signature dish. It's a bit too rich, a bit too sweet, and comes adorned with a slightly superfluous rice vermicelli wig. The desserts by all accounts are good but, with portions being seriously generous, I'm rather fooded out by that stage.
In between all this gluttony, there are lots of very athletic people doing things on a podium in the centre of the tent. Some of the acts really are amazing, although there's something a bit unpleasant about watching a Mongolian contortionist twist her body all over the place whilst you can hardly move you're so full. There's muscle-men, a trapeze artist, a chap on stilts, big old mamas belting out cabaret tunes and some incredible acrobatics. It's all jolly impressive, and with tables so close to the stage, you can really feel the danger inherent in the acts: an aspect that is lost in a show as large as, say, Cirque du Soleil.
But there's a problem. Tickets cost between £75 and £115 and that doesn't include drinks or the drinks-service charge or the food-service charge (two service charges – I know, right) or the dressing-up room. So, for two people, a bottle of wine and a pink fluffy hat each, you're looking at around £250. This might be good for a corporate jolly, but these are tough times for London and the food just isn't quite good enough. If there was a way of halving the price or sorting out the food, Madame Zingara would surely triumph.
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