Linus Karp and Joseph Martin
Awkward Productions
Hope Mill Theatre, Manchester
September 11 - 21, 2024; 2 hrs
One of the joys of being a reviewer is the early research – time spent deep in the maul of the internet snooping on actors, writers and subject matter. And boy, did I enjoy the background to Gwyneth Goes Skiing.
I had forgotten just how extraordinary but weirdly close to home the divine Ms Paltrow is. The self-deprecating tour of her stunning house; the products on her much-derided Goop website, that float very close to things you would actually like to buy if you could justify $30 for a silk ponytail scrunchie; the meditation sessions that are not so very different from the end of your local church hall yoga class...
I also had some empathy ready for the elderly skier who may or may not have run into her. Will I still be able to control my skis in my 70s? Even on the velvet carpets that are the slopes of Deer Valley, Utah? (I know that because I had a day’s skiing there once – did you really think I would be able to write this without revealing that sprinkle of celeb stardust?)
But forget all of that. We are just here for the consciously-uncoupling gags, for the vagina-scented candles and the general Goopyness of it all.
In 2016 there was a skiing collision between Oscar-winning film star and founder of retailer Goop Gwyneth Paltrow and retired optometrist Dr Terry Sanderson. Three years later he sued her, claiming she had caused him brain and other injuries. She countersued, claiming he had been at fault. At the trial in 2013, which was covered breathlessly around the world, he claimed $300,000 damages; she claimed $1 and won.
Gwyneth Goes Skiing is a glorious romp that takes a laser-sharp aim at all of that privileged, moneyed, entitled nonsense, stirs in a generous serving of camp comedy and invites the audience (“gals, gays and theys” as Gwynnie calls us) to return a verdict on who was at fault.
On paper this is a two-hander, with the suitably condescending Linus Karp swishing GP’s blonde locks and Joseph Martin as the blustering optometrist-not-optician Sanderson. But there is also the overworked stage manager, wrangling the Deer Valley deer (and the rabbit and the squirrel), and the co-opted audience members who bravely take on speaking parts. Add in a rudimentary set and some skis, and the whole thing comes perilously close to becoming an homage to the Went Wrong franchise.
The script is sharp, snippy and knowing, with some excellent jokes. But there is a point where a running gag just becomes a joke which has been strung out too far - though “my godfather, Steven Spielberg, who invented cinema” is as good a nepotism line as you can get, and deserves its reprises.
Some scenes are filling time and not achieving much. There is no particular reason for the combatants to burst into song, though the fact that they are lip-synching gives the musical interludes a surreal feel that is not out of place in this Goop-land alternative universe. Paltrow’s singing voice is Cat Cohen, while Darren Criss does the honours for Sanderson.
Equally, the appearance on screen of drag star Trixie Mattel as GP’s mother, Blythe Danner, was another odd intervention. Is she there because she’s best mates with one of team? She gives far too much information about her contribution to the infamous vagina candles, so perhaps it’s worth it just for that.
Oh, and did I mention that Sanderson’s lawyer is a muppet? Literally? Not profound, any of it, but I threw my snowball, managed the voting system and laughed a lot. You will too.
More info and tickets here
