With potty-mouthed, clothes-stripping puppets, ‘Little Dickens’ is a risque and riotously hilarious twist on a classic Christmas tale

Little Dickens

Created and performed by Ronnie Burkett, original music by John Alcorn. Until Dec. 18 at the Berkeley Street Theatre, 26 Berkeley St. canadianstage.com or 416-368-3110

This ain’t your “Christmas Carol” of Christmas past, that is for sure.

With potty-mouthed, clothes-stripping marionettes (plus at least one bare-chested audience member, but we’ll get to that later), master puppeteer Ronnie Burkett’s “Little Dickens” is a naughty and riotously hilarious twist on the classic Yuletide tale. Think “A Christmas Carol” meets “South Park” meets “The Muppets,” where the foulest thing uttered onstage is more than just a few “bah, humbugs.”

Our miserly protagonist isn’t businessman Ebenezer Scrooge but, instead, the swollen-headed, vaudeville-era diva Esme Massengill, whose journey to Christmases past, present and future is provoked by her cold rejection of a donation request for a charity supporting her fellow actors during the holiday season.

“Are there no dinner theatres” for them to act in? she retorts with her posh British accent, emphasizing every syllable with an arrogant staccato.

Massengill, crafted by Burkett like the other doll-sized marionettes in this 90-minute production, is deliciously diva-ish, sauntering about with excessive makeup and jewels dangling from her neck. From the way she tucks her arms in front of her breasts to how she huffs and pouts with her shoulders, she exudes a you-better-not-stand-in-my-spotlight-lest-your-career-will-be-over attitude, like (insert name of your favourite diva here plus their most diva-esque habit because yours truly is too afraid to include a real-life example in fear of being sent a libel notice, as divas and their lawyers often do).

Burkett’s exacting precision as he manipulates Esme — slinking, sulking and sliding about — makes for some great physical comedy, while his burly baritone paired with the wiry frame of Madame Massengill adds to the campy humour. But half the fun is also watching Burkett work his magic, standing atop a raised platform behind the set, which is decked out with curtains, simple props and sliding scenic backdrops. Everything is manually controlled and Burkett seemingly does it all.

The other marionettes in the show — far more than a dozen, by my count — are pulled from Burkett’s “The Daisy Theatre,” his unscripted sketch show with a cast of 40 characters. I’m sure there are tidbits in “Little Dickens” that reward those who have seen “The Daisy Theatre” and are already familiar with Burkett’s troupe of puppets but, as someone who is a Daisy Theatre virgin, I can say watching that production is not a prerequisite to enjoying this Christmastime spinoff.

Each character possesses a larger-than-life personality, with individualized mannerisms that so quickly highlight their traits. Tiny Tim walks with hunched shoulders and speaks with a diminutive high-pitched voice, which immediately elicited some “awwws” from the empathetic audience at Wednesday’s opening night performance.

The range of characters and personalities onstage all make for some silly fun, though it often feels the focus is less on the story at hand and more on the vaudeville musical acts tucked between the narrative, with the production transforming almost into a revolving-door showcase as each of the puppets makes their fleeting, though often memorable, appearance.

There are several Christmas carol singalongs and audience participation moments. You might be asked to dress up or, as one good sport can attest, dress down to play various roles in the show. (A warning: Burkett doesn’t entertain the whole raise-your-hand-to-participate thing. Once he locks eyes with you, it’s hard to back out. So, if you have seats in the front row or on the aisles, beware.)

This is probably also a good point in the review to warn those who haven’t taken the hint that this is not a holiday show for kids. Don’t be fooled by the cute title and posters: it’s an adults-only show with double entendres and sexual innuendos too numerous to count. Plus, I don’t think your three-year-old needs to know how a marionette can be manipulated to take off their clothes with such sultry dexterity, as demonstrated at the top of the show. (I thought I saw a mother sneak in her young child on opening night; I can only imagine the splainin’ she was up to later that evening.)

Much of the humour is broad and mischievous, with several meta-theatrical gags in which Burkett breaks the fourth wall and pokes fun at his puppet theatre setup. The marionettes also seem to be self-aware about their stringed limb-itations, injecting puppet-themed comedy into the proceedings.

But as hilarious as everything is, the humour largely feels self-serving rather than in service of the story. Some gags, like Massengill finding her spotlight as she falls into the arms of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come (played by another good sport audience member, dressed in a black cloak of death), drag on a bit too long. In the end, it all comes across as less of an adaptation of “A Christmas Carol” than a well-conceived parody of it.

Maybe that’s the point. After all, to paraphrase a line that lands toward the end of the production, we could all use some naughty holiday humour after the past three years. But there’s also something warm and touching about the original “Christmas Carol” and its themes of giving and social justice.

There are hints of that woven into “Little Dickens,” but Massengill never really goes on that redemptive journey that ultimately sees her out the other side a better person. After years of so much cynicism, in addition to the humour we could also use a reminder that redemption is possible. Or maybe I’m just too Pollyanna.