It’s A Wonderful Knife: Christmas Dundee at Old Joint Stock, Birmingham Review

Written by Katie for Theatre & Tonic

Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review

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Despite a fifteen-minute late start thanks to good old Christmas traffic, It’s A Wonderful Knife - Christmas Dundee at Birmingham’s Old Joint Stock Theatre ended up being an absolute triumph. You have to take this show for exactly what it is- and what it proudly is, is camp, chaotic, absurd, and utterly joyful.

The premise alone tells you you’re in for something unhinged. Inspired by the UK’s most-watched Christmas Day movie of all time (yes, it’s actually Crocodile Dundee), the show plays out using the framework of the classic film, It’s a Wonderful Life. Ninety-year-old Bert the Crocodile has just died, leaving Paul Hogan feeling forgotten and sorry for himself, until Bert returns from beyond the grave to show Paul the world as it would be, had he never been born. What unfolds is a series of musical mick-takes, unhinged Aussie national treasures and the kind of bonkers storytelling you’d only get after one too many sherries. If that sounds delightfully ridiculous, it’s because it is.

The opening lands us straight into the madness: a funeral for Bert attended by Babe the Pig, Lassie, and even Jaws, all preparing their eulogies. Within minutes you’re thinking, “What on earth is going on?”, and that question never quite leaves, in the best possible way. The whole thing feels like the kind of play you’d put on in your living room at age ten… except with more swearing and far better lighting. It’s cabaret energy with a Year 6 storyline, and it absolutely commits.

What truly makes the chaos work is the cast. An ensemble that throws itself into the madness with complete fearlessness. This is a show that demands extreme energy, exaggerated characters, relentless pace, and a willingness to look gloriously ridiculous, and these performers deliver all of that and more. Every actor is sweating, panting, and giving 200% from start to finish, transforming what could be a messy concept into something genuinely delightful.

Leading the nonsense is Paul Westwood, grounding Paul Hogan with real warmth and giving the story the emotional thread it needs. Oliver Cartwright brings Bert the Crocodile back from the dead with cheeky charm (though if you promise a tap-dancing croc in the marketing, maybe make sure his tap shoes aren’t held together by hope alone!). Thea Jo Wolfe unleashes powerhouse vocals as Kylie Minogue, Linda (and others) and nails every comedic beat thrown her way. Tom Kitely is a riot as Arnold Schwarzenegger (and others) - his Russell Crowe impression in particular is brilliantly and (bizarrely) accurate. And Will Usherwood-Bliss is simply outstanding. His characters (Hugh Jackman among them) are performed with such charisma and comic instinct that he ends up carrying huge portions of the show. He’s an undeniable standout.

What really elevates their performances is how willing the entire ensemble is to embrace the absurdity. The show gleefully pokes fun at musical-theatre culture, from ribbing Russell Crowe’s infamous vocals to a wonderfully silly Hamilton bullet spoof, and the cast lean into every reference with a knowing wink. Their commitment to the chaos is what makes the jokes land, the plot work, and the whole fever dream somehow hang together.

It isn’t really a Christmas show, something even the cast cheekily acknowledge, but that’s perfectly fine. The festive wrapper is really just an excuse for a riot of gay, chaotic, nonsense.

The audience did thin out a bit in Act 2, but that feels less a reflection on the show and more on the marketing. It’s not entirely clear from the publicity what you’re signing up for, and with the run continuing until 30 December, the Old Joint Stock could definitely lean harder into promoting it as the camp, queer comedy it truly is.

If there’s one major gripe, it’s the sudden tonal shift at the end. After nearly two hours of crocodiles, chaos, and campness, the show pivots sharply into sincerity as Paul learns his big life lesson. Cartwright and Westwood sing the ballad beautifully (their vocals really are fantastic), but the slow, earnest number feels jarringly out of place after everything that’s come before. It’s hard to go from ‘gay crocodile fever dream’ to ‘emotional moral lesson’ in thirty seconds flat.

But honestly? Even with that tonal hiccup, It’s A Wonderful Knife is a hilarious, committed, delightfully bonkers night out. You can’t help but giggle. You just have to surrender to the absurdity, and once you do, it’s great fun.

★ ★ ★ ★