Show Boat at the New London Theatre
The first musical play to be written for the stage, nearly nine decades ago, Show Boat is a beautiful classic that still has much to offer a modern audience: a cascading love story, a timeless and hummable anthem for social change and a cast of lovable characters. Daniel Evans' sumptuous production is exactly the kind of classic revival that I can't help but adore; the casting, staging and direction of this, the very musical to define the genre, has a way of breathing fresh life into it.
Chris Peluso, fresh from his stint in Miss Saigon, joins this cast as the romantic lead opposite Gina Beck. With a sumptuous tenor voice that proves this kind of score is really what he was born to be singing, the only criticism of Peluso's performance is perhaps that he is too endearing and heartwarming in his portrayal that his eventual relapse into his illicit behaviour seems out of character. Opposite him, Gina Beck sings with soaring vocals and an irrepressible charm.
The radiant Rebecca Trehearn plays Julie La Verne, marking her return to the London stage with yet another showstopping performance. An absolute highlight whenever she's onstage, the rapturous curtain call applause she receives is no small indication of the heartbreaking emotion she evokes in an audience. With stirring renditions of the classic 'Can't help lovin dat man' and the usually dull 'Bill', Trehearn stops the show cold with stunning vocals and a brilliantly thoughtful delivery. And truthfully, the stage is a little emptier without her.
In a cast of dedicated scene stealers, particular standout performances are given by the delightful Alex Young, the hilarious Malcolm Sinclair and the sensational Sandra Marvin as Queenie. Emmanuel Kojo is a little hit-and-miss in his role, though this is perhaps a flaw in the writing that sees him centre stage for the show's most famous ballad, 'Old Man River', then proceeds to send him backstage for much of the rest of the performance. Perhaps a product of its time, the show seems to jar a little with a modern audience by acknowledging the racial inequality without doing much to address it or come to any sort of moral point about it, instead leaving the lingering message 'Prejudice happened'.
It has to be said that it takes some gutsy producers to put this show up in London with this cast alongside other classic show Guys and Dolls and Funny Girl in a theatre that sees much less footfall. It's guts like these, however, that I can get on board with in the current theatrical climate and should only be encouraged for bringing quality regional theatre to the capital. I'd also be remiss if I were to forget to mention that the enormous production artwork on the side of the New London theatre for this show is perhaps my favourite view in London at the moment. If there is a god this show will find its audience, and the audience will find a sumptuous theatrical delight.
Chris Peluso, fresh from his stint in Miss Saigon, joins this cast as the romantic lead opposite Gina Beck. With a sumptuous tenor voice that proves this kind of score is really what he was born to be singing, the only criticism of Peluso's performance is perhaps that he is too endearing and heartwarming in his portrayal that his eventual relapse into his illicit behaviour seems out of character. Opposite him, Gina Beck sings with soaring vocals and an irrepressible charm.
The radiant Rebecca Trehearn plays Julie La Verne, marking her return to the London stage with yet another showstopping performance. An absolute highlight whenever she's onstage, the rapturous curtain call applause she receives is no small indication of the heartbreaking emotion she evokes in an audience. With stirring renditions of the classic 'Can't help lovin dat man' and the usually dull 'Bill', Trehearn stops the show cold with stunning vocals and a brilliantly thoughtful delivery. And truthfully, the stage is a little emptier without her.
In a cast of dedicated scene stealers, particular standout performances are given by the delightful Alex Young, the hilarious Malcolm Sinclair and the sensational Sandra Marvin as Queenie. Emmanuel Kojo is a little hit-and-miss in his role, though this is perhaps a flaw in the writing that sees him centre stage for the show's most famous ballad, 'Old Man River', then proceeds to send him backstage for much of the rest of the performance. Perhaps a product of its time, the show seems to jar a little with a modern audience by acknowledging the racial inequality without doing much to address it or come to any sort of moral point about it, instead leaving the lingering message 'Prejudice happened'.
It has to be said that it takes some gutsy producers to put this show up in London with this cast alongside other classic show Guys and Dolls and Funny Girl in a theatre that sees much less footfall. It's guts like these, however, that I can get on board with in the current theatrical climate and should only be encouraged for bringing quality regional theatre to the capital. I'd also be remiss if I were to forget to mention that the enormous production artwork on the side of the New London theatre for this show is perhaps my favourite view in London at the moment. If there is a god this show will find its audience, and the audience will find a sumptuous theatrical delight.
Doctor Faustus at the Duke of York's Theatre
After seeing a preview performance of Doctor Faustus, Daily Mail columnist Baz Bamigboye tweeted that its star, popular 'Game of Thrones' actor Kit Harington gave a master-class in 'subverting his own fame'. Having seen Jamie Lloyd's exciting and powerful new production of the Christopher Marlowe play I would go further, stating that not only is Harington subverting his own celebrity, but director Jamie Lloyd is subverting live theatre. Any expectations or predispositions audience members may have entering this play in terms of the script, the cast or the nature of the theatrical experience will be disproved. Aggressively.
Trading the screen for a very unconventional return to the West End stage, Kit Harington, who has previously starred in 'Posh' and 'War Horse', bares his very soul for the audiences at the Duke of York's theatre, as well as almost everything else. So committed and exhilarating is Harington's performance in every passing second that it beggars belief he should ever have to do it twice in one day. Fans of Harington may cheer when he enters the stage (in true Jamie Lloyd style at least ten minutes before the show begins), but that applause will be short lived when they are faced with the brilliantly disturbing performance he gives.
Jenna Russell gives a tour de force performance as Mephistopheles, the agent of Lucifer who is in turn deadly, seductive and outrageous. Russell spends much of the first act instilling a mounting tension and sense of unease in the audience with her sinister portrayal and opens the second with a hilarious karaoke medley which climaxes with Meatloaf's 'Bat out of hell'. The perfect foil for Harington's Faustus, Russell's casting is a brilliant coup.
The real beauty of this production is in the strength of its ensemble, first seen as a demonic chorus of fallen angels, with standout performances from Tom Edden and Forbes Masson who between them portray Pope Francis, David Cameron, Marilyn Monroe and a hilarious upper middle class audience member. Jade Anouka is also a highlight with her subtle and heartwarming performance as Wagner, a nuanced characterisation that shines in a cast of gothic extremes.
Earning a slightly polarising response, Lloyd's production is leaving audiences mesmerised and enthralled, if a little confused. One theatre blogger tweeted that she got the feeling this production was one of the best things she'd ever seen in a theatre, but that she had no idea what it had been about. Equally, many have been quick to label Lloyd's production excessive, saying that the trite message that emerges at the end of such an overblown epic comes as a disappointing anticlimax. Personally, my biggest criticism of the piece is that it seems as though the production itself was of two minds and there are two ways Jamie could have taken it. The modernisation we arrive at is a long time coming and is book-ended by classic takes on the text, resulting in a strangely bipolar tone that the show never really addresses, hoping instead to distract with shock value and awe.
And, not to lose too much respect for myself as a critic, but I will confess there were moments where I had no idea what Jamie Lloyd was hoping to evoke, what Jenna Russell was implying or why Kit Harington was doing the things he did. And I still loved it.
Trading the screen for a very unconventional return to the West End stage, Kit Harington, who has previously starred in 'Posh' and 'War Horse', bares his very soul for the audiences at the Duke of York's theatre, as well as almost everything else. So committed and exhilarating is Harington's performance in every passing second that it beggars belief he should ever have to do it twice in one day. Fans of Harington may cheer when he enters the stage (in true Jamie Lloyd style at least ten minutes before the show begins), but that applause will be short lived when they are faced with the brilliantly disturbing performance he gives.
Jenna Russell gives a tour de force performance as Mephistopheles, the agent of Lucifer who is in turn deadly, seductive and outrageous. Russell spends much of the first act instilling a mounting tension and sense of unease in the audience with her sinister portrayal and opens the second with a hilarious karaoke medley which climaxes with Meatloaf's 'Bat out of hell'. The perfect foil for Harington's Faustus, Russell's casting is a brilliant coup.
The real beauty of this production is in the strength of its ensemble, first seen as a demonic chorus of fallen angels, with standout performances from Tom Edden and Forbes Masson who between them portray Pope Francis, David Cameron, Marilyn Monroe and a hilarious upper middle class audience member. Jade Anouka is also a highlight with her subtle and heartwarming performance as Wagner, a nuanced characterisation that shines in a cast of gothic extremes.
Earning a slightly polarising response, Lloyd's production is leaving audiences mesmerised and enthralled, if a little confused. One theatre blogger tweeted that she got the feeling this production was one of the best things she'd ever seen in a theatre, but that she had no idea what it had been about. Equally, many have been quick to label Lloyd's production excessive, saying that the trite message that emerges at the end of such an overblown epic comes as a disappointing anticlimax. Personally, my biggest criticism of the piece is that it seems as though the production itself was of two minds and there are two ways Jamie could have taken it. The modernisation we arrive at is a long time coming and is book-ended by classic takes on the text, resulting in a strangely bipolar tone that the show never really addresses, hoping instead to distract with shock value and awe.
And, not to lose too much respect for myself as a critic, but I will confess there were moments where I had no idea what Jamie Lloyd was hoping to evoke, what Jenna Russell was implying or why Kit Harington was doing the things he did. And I still loved it.
The End of Longing at the Playhouse Theatre
It's difficult to have lived through the nineties without experiencing the mega-hit television sitcom, Friends. This was the show that defined a generation, shaped the future of television comedy and saw the world fall in love with its cast of characters so strongly that the slightest hint of a reunion even now is major news. With the premiere of his new play, 'The End of Longing', Matthew Perry seeks to escape the box that Friends left him in both as an actor and a perceived personality, starring in a darker, grittier role in a frank, realistic and still funny play that he says the generation that grew up with Friends should find painfully relatable.
As a playwright, Perry captures a jaded human essence staggeringly well, and delivers an unexpectedly acerbic, poignant and realistic script that plays as a sort of Friends with a hangover. His plot arcs don't seem forced, the comedy of course flows naturally and the characters are motivated, honest and engaging. As an actor, Perry plays an alcoholic determined not to recover; no doubt a semi-autobiographical take on his own past experiences with substance abuse, his character Jack is characterised with a dry wit, brutal honesty and uneasy tension that comes to define the piece. In a theatrical context, Perry is perhaps a little louder and a little broader than the audience might expect, but this doesn't fall out of character for his consistently drunken persona.
Jennifer Mudge plays Stephanie, an unapologetically frank prostitute who declares no remorse about her profession and finds herself falling for the witty and charming Jack against her better judgment. As their relationship grows more serious, she shows a different side of herself as she grows more nervous and conflicted about his lifestyle choices and he becomes uneasy about hers. Mudge's sarcastic and sharp delivery is an absolute highlight in this dynamite cast, and her chemistry with Perry speaks for itself.
As always, Lloyd Owen delivers a great performance, although he seems a little miscast in the oafish, slow caricature with which he is initially saddled. Playing beautifully opposite him in the play's less obvious romantic arc is Christina Cole, whose character Stevie is a neurotic, high maintenance pill-popper, more than a little reminiscent of some of the characters of Friends. Their scenes together, however, are delightfully unexpected and successfully navigate around the many pitfalls that you might expect with a play of this genre.
With such a strong script, ensemble cast and production, this blisteringly funny and honest play might just be enough to redeem director Lindsay Posner for the dreadful 'Speed the Plow' that also played the Playhouse recently and featured similarly risky stunt casting. Equally, I'd go as far as to say that when seeking an edgy, masculine and gritty writing style, it isn't too farfetched to suggest that David Mamet could take notes on tone from Matthew Perry. While it's still a hot ticket, come for Friends and Chandler, but stay for a very different story and be prepared to like it.
As a playwright, Perry captures a jaded human essence staggeringly well, and delivers an unexpectedly acerbic, poignant and realistic script that plays as a sort of Friends with a hangover. His plot arcs don't seem forced, the comedy of course flows naturally and the characters are motivated, honest and engaging. As an actor, Perry plays an alcoholic determined not to recover; no doubt a semi-autobiographical take on his own past experiences with substance abuse, his character Jack is characterised with a dry wit, brutal honesty and uneasy tension that comes to define the piece. In a theatrical context, Perry is perhaps a little louder and a little broader than the audience might expect, but this doesn't fall out of character for his consistently drunken persona.
Jennifer Mudge plays Stephanie, an unapologetically frank prostitute who declares no remorse about her profession and finds herself falling for the witty and charming Jack against her better judgment. As their relationship grows more serious, she shows a different side of herself as she grows more nervous and conflicted about his lifestyle choices and he becomes uneasy about hers. Mudge's sarcastic and sharp delivery is an absolute highlight in this dynamite cast, and her chemistry with Perry speaks for itself.
As always, Lloyd Owen delivers a great performance, although he seems a little miscast in the oafish, slow caricature with which he is initially saddled. Playing beautifully opposite him in the play's less obvious romantic arc is Christina Cole, whose character Stevie is a neurotic, high maintenance pill-popper, more than a little reminiscent of some of the characters of Friends. Their scenes together, however, are delightfully unexpected and successfully navigate around the many pitfalls that you might expect with a play of this genre.
With such a strong script, ensemble cast and production, this blisteringly funny and honest play might just be enough to redeem director Lindsay Posner for the dreadful 'Speed the Plow' that also played the Playhouse recently and featured similarly risky stunt casting. Equally, I'd go as far as to say that when seeking an edgy, masculine and gritty writing style, it isn't too farfetched to suggest that David Mamet could take notes on tone from Matthew Perry. While it's still a hot ticket, come for Friends and Chandler, but stay for a very different story and be prepared to like it.
Miss Atomic Bomb at the St James Theatre
When news of the impending premiere of Miss Atomic Bomb broke to theatregoers earlier this year, it came as a shock that the St James theatre would be seeing a rare breed of show: A new British Musical with an original score and plot. With many commenting on last year's early closure of Made in Dagenham as the untimely death of the original British musical, the fate of Miss Atomic Bomb was always going to be eagerly watched. The show features a charming country score penned by Adam Long, Gabriel Vick and Alex Jackson-Long, as well as dazzling choreography from co-director Bill Deamer.
The production's biggest casting draw, Catherine Tate, surprises audiences with her first all-singing musical theatre turn as the glamorous fashonista Myrna Ranapapadophilou. She puts across her song with considerable flair, has audiences in stitches with the high speed monologues she manages to craft out of a few repeated sentences and brings her explosive onstage chemistry with co-star Simon Lipkin to a wonderfully wacky duet the two share in the second act, a brilliantly strange number that is indicative of the show's eccentric sense of humour.
Perhaps the best thing to come out of this production is the discovery of the mega-talented young performer, Florence Andrews, who gives the show a real heart with her Annie Oakley-esque leading turn. Despite losing a little of her hardened, tomboyish characterisation the minute she steps into a dress in the second act, she gives a stirring and powerful rendition of 'The Sun Went Down'. Opposite her, Dean John Wilson also enjoys a charming subplot to which he brings charm, chemistry with his co-stars and a glistening falsetto, providing many audience members with their largest takeaway comment from the production: "I'm really quite excited to see Aladdin now!".
Simon Lipkin is on top form, fresh from starring in 'The Lorax' and Jamie Lloyd's 'Assassins', he's back to his usual tricks (minus the puppets) with visual gags galore and laugh a minute punch lines. Another Avenue Q alumnus, Daniel Boys, is criminally underused as Mr Potts, though he enjoys a hilarious ode to West End megahit Les Misérables towards the end. Even more noteworthy performances come from David Birrell's brilliant mob boss, Charles Brunton's brassy drag queen and Olivia Fines' ditzy Miss Atomic Bomb hopeful.
You start to get the sense the material has too many plot arcs and too many characters, leaving too many loose ends to tie together in a rushed finale sequence, but you certainly can't fault the execution. In any case, the show is defiantly undeserving of some of the more cutting reviews it has received, because if the opening night audience reactions proved anything, it's an inescapable sense of delight and fun. Really, with hummable tunes, showstopping performances, riotous comedy and a Strallen in the ensemble, this Miss Atomic Bomb may not have the longest half life, but hardly fails to detonate.
The production's biggest casting draw, Catherine Tate, surprises audiences with her first all-singing musical theatre turn as the glamorous fashonista Myrna Ranapapadophilou. She puts across her song with considerable flair, has audiences in stitches with the high speed monologues she manages to craft out of a few repeated sentences and brings her explosive onstage chemistry with co-star Simon Lipkin to a wonderfully wacky duet the two share in the second act, a brilliantly strange number that is indicative of the show's eccentric sense of humour.
Perhaps the best thing to come out of this production is the discovery of the mega-talented young performer, Florence Andrews, who gives the show a real heart with her Annie Oakley-esque leading turn. Despite losing a little of her hardened, tomboyish characterisation the minute she steps into a dress in the second act, she gives a stirring and powerful rendition of 'The Sun Went Down'. Opposite her, Dean John Wilson also enjoys a charming subplot to which he brings charm, chemistry with his co-stars and a glistening falsetto, providing many audience members with their largest takeaway comment from the production: "I'm really quite excited to see Aladdin now!".
Simon Lipkin is on top form, fresh from starring in 'The Lorax' and Jamie Lloyd's 'Assassins', he's back to his usual tricks (minus the puppets) with visual gags galore and laugh a minute punch lines. Another Avenue Q alumnus, Daniel Boys, is criminally underused as Mr Potts, though he enjoys a hilarious ode to West End megahit Les Misérables towards the end. Even more noteworthy performances come from David Birrell's brilliant mob boss, Charles Brunton's brassy drag queen and Olivia Fines' ditzy Miss Atomic Bomb hopeful.
You start to get the sense the material has too many plot arcs and too many characters, leaving too many loose ends to tie together in a rushed finale sequence, but you certainly can't fault the execution. In any case, the show is defiantly undeserving of some of the more cutting reviews it has received, because if the opening night audience reactions proved anything, it's an inescapable sense of delight and fun. Really, with hummable tunes, showstopping performances, riotous comedy and a Strallen in the ensemble, this Miss Atomic Bomb may not have the longest half life, but hardly fails to detonate.
Mrs Henderson Presents at the Noel Coward Theatre
The story of a new age of theatre coming to Britain, Mrs Henderson Presents seeks to recapture the golden age of musical comedy. Behind the red show curtain and the footlights, however, the show has something a little lacking across the board. The score by George Fenton is solid enough with some wonderful moments, perhaps too few and far between. Don Black's lyrics, however, are often incredibly trite, and even some of the best songs in the score fall too lazily into the pattern of simply listing things in order to kill time before a vaguely worded chorus. Even the set design falls somewhere between two different aesthetics, occasionally a fully realised scene but often relying on elements to suggest a location, though the costume design, ironically, is very strong.
Leading the show with silver tongued charm is the silver-haired duo of Tracie Bennett and Ian Bartholomew, both of them stage veterans with effervescent charm and presence. Bennett's Mrs Henderson is a delightful concoction, filled to the brim with sass, raunch and charisma. Though her vocal performance is more than a little haggard, she has all the panache of Imelda Staunton's Mama Rose. As her foil, Ian Bartholomew is both an excellent straight man and a touching performer; his stirring and honest rendition of the subtly beautiful 'Living in a dream world' is riddled with pathos and heart, and also very well sung.
At the show's heart, however, is a bravura performance from the always delightful Emma Williams. Turning in a charming supporting performance that becomes the focus of the second act, catapulting her into a leading role, she bares all centre stage and lends astonishing vocals to the best song in the score, 'If Mountains were easy to climb'. In a coup de theatre beyond belief, when the Windmill theatre begins to shake as bombs are dropped on London, Williams' Maureen marches downstage and personally admonishes Hitler, while fully naked.
It's hard to say what Mrs Henderson lacks, the holes in the script can be forgiven, and even I can adjust to the startling nudity, it's almost as if the show just doesn't feel finished enough. For a workshop presentation or an early developmental performance, the piece would be a remarkable artistic success, but for a West End musical in the current climate it simply doesn't have enough punch, strong enough material or the spark of exciting theatre. Are there too few cast members onstage for a show that has a bigger feel to it and yet lacks the all important powerhouse company number? Is the first act too static and differing in tone to the second? It's hard to put my finger on exactly what has me unconvinced about Mrs Henderson, but if it wants to recapture the staying power that the Windmill theatre itself has, it might need more tricks than nude tableau.
Leading the show with silver tongued charm is the silver-haired duo of Tracie Bennett and Ian Bartholomew, both of them stage veterans with effervescent charm and presence. Bennett's Mrs Henderson is a delightful concoction, filled to the brim with sass, raunch and charisma. Though her vocal performance is more than a little haggard, she has all the panache of Imelda Staunton's Mama Rose. As her foil, Ian Bartholomew is both an excellent straight man and a touching performer; his stirring and honest rendition of the subtly beautiful 'Living in a dream world' is riddled with pathos and heart, and also very well sung.
At the show's heart, however, is a bravura performance from the always delightful Emma Williams. Turning in a charming supporting performance that becomes the focus of the second act, catapulting her into a leading role, she bares all centre stage and lends astonishing vocals to the best song in the score, 'If Mountains were easy to climb'. In a coup de theatre beyond belief, when the Windmill theatre begins to shake as bombs are dropped on London, Williams' Maureen marches downstage and personally admonishes Hitler, while fully naked.
It's hard to say what Mrs Henderson lacks, the holes in the script can be forgiven, and even I can adjust to the startling nudity, it's almost as if the show just doesn't feel finished enough. For a workshop presentation or an early developmental performance, the piece would be a remarkable artistic success, but for a West End musical in the current climate it simply doesn't have enough punch, strong enough material or the spark of exciting theatre. Are there too few cast members onstage for a show that has a bigger feel to it and yet lacks the all important powerhouse company number? Is the first act too static and differing in tone to the second? It's hard to put my finger on exactly what has me unconvinced about Mrs Henderson, but if it wants to recapture the staying power that the Windmill theatre itself has, it might need more tricks than nude tableau.
Bad Jews at the Theatre Royal Harmarket
It was enough of a surprise to everyone when Joshua Harmon's quintessentially New-York play 'Bad Jews' transferred to the arts theatre from Bath via the St James last year, receiving strong notices from the critics. Even more shocking, after the production returned to Bath and booked a national tour, was the announcement that the production would return for a brief west end stint, presumably because the good people at the Theatre Royal Haymarket needed something else to sell poorly for a month before their annual star vehicle arrives. However, ill sighted as the show's transfer to the West End might have seemed, there were at least some London theatregoers, myself included, who were very excited to have the opportunity to either experience or revisit this critically lauded play; at least enough to fill the stalls anyway.
Recreating his role from the original Bath production, Ilan Goodman stars as Liam, the self proclaimed 'Bad Jew' who rejects the religious impositions of his family's cultural heritage in favour of more exciting, modern values and a sunny, blonde girlfriend. Goodman's entrance early in the play sees the atmosphere in the entire theatre lift as guffaws begin to emerge from an audience who, up until then, weren't sure if they were supposed to be laughing or not. As he begins the verbal sparring with his cousin Daphna which will shape the rest of the play, we finally stop watching the clock as he hurls a thrillingly pitiless and increasingly frenzied monologue at her. Watching this in horror is his shiksa girlfriend, Melody, played by Antonia Kinlay, a warm and endearing supporting turn that prompts the most I remember ever having laughed in a theatre before with a truly unforgettable performance of Gershwin classic 'Summertime'.
Taking on the mammoth role of Daphna, a character whose outrageously funny and borderline offensive shock value comments double the length of the script in spite of their rapid fire delivery, is Alisa Joy. Somehow managing to retain at least some of the audience's support, her character embarks on a cultural crusade against her relatives who she deems to be neglecting their culture and family in the wake of their grandfather's death. As Daphna, Joy is given a series of gargantuan speeches and exchanges, almost all of them extremely confrontational, with a fiery anger that lasts most of the play. Hers is truly the central performance of the piece and a divisive characterisation that serves it very well.
For those who lack the patience, enthusiasm or attention span to keep up with such a fast paced dialogue, the set design is a lovely IKEA sample sale with a functional, time accurate clock. However, If you do enjoy the new American style of drama featuring passionate millennials hurling streams of deeply wounding criticisms at each other at the pace of a formula one car (think David Mamet with substance), you're sure to enjoy this smart and funny play that has an awful lot to say about the necessity and vitality of culture and history, as long as you're willing to make a concerted effort to try and listen.
Recreating his role from the original Bath production, Ilan Goodman stars as Liam, the self proclaimed 'Bad Jew' who rejects the religious impositions of his family's cultural heritage in favour of more exciting, modern values and a sunny, blonde girlfriend. Goodman's entrance early in the play sees the atmosphere in the entire theatre lift as guffaws begin to emerge from an audience who, up until then, weren't sure if they were supposed to be laughing or not. As he begins the verbal sparring with his cousin Daphna which will shape the rest of the play, we finally stop watching the clock as he hurls a thrillingly pitiless and increasingly frenzied monologue at her. Watching this in horror is his shiksa girlfriend, Melody, played by Antonia Kinlay, a warm and endearing supporting turn that prompts the most I remember ever having laughed in a theatre before with a truly unforgettable performance of Gershwin classic 'Summertime'.
Taking on the mammoth role of Daphna, a character whose outrageously funny and borderline offensive shock value comments double the length of the script in spite of their rapid fire delivery, is Alisa Joy. Somehow managing to retain at least some of the audience's support, her character embarks on a cultural crusade against her relatives who she deems to be neglecting their culture and family in the wake of their grandfather's death. As Daphna, Joy is given a series of gargantuan speeches and exchanges, almost all of them extremely confrontational, with a fiery anger that lasts most of the play. Hers is truly the central performance of the piece and a divisive characterisation that serves it very well.
For those who lack the patience, enthusiasm or attention span to keep up with such a fast paced dialogue, the set design is a lovely IKEA sample sale with a functional, time accurate clock. However, If you do enjoy the new American style of drama featuring passionate millennials hurling streams of deeply wounding criticisms at each other at the pace of a formula one car (think David Mamet with substance), you're sure to enjoy this smart and funny play that has an awful lot to say about the necessity and vitality of culture and history, as long as you're willing to make a concerted effort to try and listen.
Guys and Dolls at the Savoy Theatre
The latest in a string of classic musical revivals direct from Chichester to land at London's Savoy Theatre, Gordon Greenberg's new production of Guys and Dolls is a perfectly fun piece of theatre with some interesting and unexpected casting choices, at least half of which actually pay off. As far as the production goes, given that this is a show that London has seen often, Greenberg doesn't seem to have carved much out by way of a new approach or understanding of the show and what results is a fairly mundane run through of the show against a gorgeous backdrop behind an utterly threadbare set. While Andrew Wright's choreographic sections are a little obvious and lacking in energy, Carlos Acosta's crapshoot ballet is one of the defining moments of the entire show, a beautifully conceived and stunningly performed section to open the second act.
For what it's worth, David Haig is a great and vocally inoffensive Nathan Detroit, and to have the part played by a broadly comedic character actor, older than the actor playing Sky Masterson, is a very refreshing casting choice. Opposite him, in a widely well reviewed performance is Sophie Thompson, whose personal brand of hunching, husky caricature is a choice I've never understood. This isn't to say her Adelaide doesn't have its moments, but they're fewer and farther between than you'd expect for a comic actress with her experience and her stumbling burlesque performances aren't quite bad enough to be funny and better resemble watching an awkward striptease by a drunken aunt.
For the younger lovers, however, Siubhan Harrison is a brilliantly unexpected Sarah Brown, turning in a leading performance that's a far cry from some of her predecessors, a real character with clear motivations, an arc of development and a beautifully embarrassing deterioration into hysterics in the 'Havana' sequence. Stealing the entire show, however, and almost single-handedly justifying the production is Jamie Parker's Sky Masterson. Parker, fresh from his show-stopping performance in High Society and set to star in the overwhelmingly anticipated production of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child in London next year, creates a suave rogue in Sky who is so immediately likeable that his every turn in the show has the audience hooked and mesmerised, rivalling even Brando's excellent performance. His rendition of 'Luck be a Lady' is a gripping master-class in how to perform an iconic song in a way that feels vibrant and thrilling.
If you missed the Chichester incarnation, didn't see the production a few years ago at the gatehouse, weren't able to see it when it was last in the west end or haven't watched the movie in a while by all means catch this production while it's still in London, perhaps at the infinitely preferable Phoenix theatre as long as Jamie Parker hasn't yet left. Whether you leave humming the songs you remember falling in love with or leave remembering just how many truly dull songs were never cut from the score (I'm looking at you, 'More I cannot wish you'), you'll have been pleasantly entertained and will be able to say you witnessed the first west end starring role of a rising musical theatre star.
For what it's worth, David Haig is a great and vocally inoffensive Nathan Detroit, and to have the part played by a broadly comedic character actor, older than the actor playing Sky Masterson, is a very refreshing casting choice. Opposite him, in a widely well reviewed performance is Sophie Thompson, whose personal brand of hunching, husky caricature is a choice I've never understood. This isn't to say her Adelaide doesn't have its moments, but they're fewer and farther between than you'd expect for a comic actress with her experience and her stumbling burlesque performances aren't quite bad enough to be funny and better resemble watching an awkward striptease by a drunken aunt.
For the younger lovers, however, Siubhan Harrison is a brilliantly unexpected Sarah Brown, turning in a leading performance that's a far cry from some of her predecessors, a real character with clear motivations, an arc of development and a beautifully embarrassing deterioration into hysterics in the 'Havana' sequence. Stealing the entire show, however, and almost single-handedly justifying the production is Jamie Parker's Sky Masterson. Parker, fresh from his show-stopping performance in High Society and set to star in the overwhelmingly anticipated production of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child in London next year, creates a suave rogue in Sky who is so immediately likeable that his every turn in the show has the audience hooked and mesmerised, rivalling even Brando's excellent performance. His rendition of 'Luck be a Lady' is a gripping master-class in how to perform an iconic song in a way that feels vibrant and thrilling.
If you missed the Chichester incarnation, didn't see the production a few years ago at the gatehouse, weren't able to see it when it was last in the west end or haven't watched the movie in a while by all means catch this production while it's still in London, perhaps at the infinitely preferable Phoenix theatre as long as Jamie Parker hasn't yet left. Whether you leave humming the songs you remember falling in love with or leave remembering just how many truly dull songs were never cut from the score (I'm looking at you, 'More I cannot wish you'), you'll have been pleasantly entertained and will be able to say you witnessed the first west end starring role of a rising musical theatre star.
Les Misérables at the Queen's Theatre
In times gone by, hearing an understudy announcement at the Queen's Theatre would be a hugely exciting prospect, because for every great cast member that's ever played in Les Misérables, there have been countless incredible understudies. The likes of Ramin Karimloo, Drew Sarich and Sierra Boggess all understudied roles in the classic Victor Hugo adaptation before going on to be principal cast members later in their careers. When Alfie Boe was doing his stint at the Queen's after the hugely succesful 25th anniversary concert, he was understudied by the greatly lauded Jonathan Williams, whose performance was so well received that some theatregoers attended specifically to see him.
I was surprised then, given my understanding of this, that Adam Bayjou's performance as Jean Valjean fell flat for much of the performance in early January. A far better mayor than a convict, Bayjou's performance was better sung than it was characterised, though on occasion even the vocals were unconvincing, and the whole performance served to prove how important Valjean's casting is to the dynamic of the entire show. Without a strong lead in Valjean, the opening section falls flat and the booming orchestral introduction of 'At the End of the Day' is less of a heart pounding climax to the show's prologue and more an impatiently awaited beginning to the rest of the show. Pleasingly, however, and though it wasn't enough to salvage the entire performance, Madame Thernadier cover Tamsin Dowsett gave a brilliant supporting turn, stronger even than the initially hilarious and likeable but soon grating Phil Daniels.
The highlight of the cast is without doubt Rob Houchen and Carrie Hope Fletcher as Marius and Cosette, who have such excellent onstage chemistry it almost completely upstages the relationship between Marius and Zoe Doano's Cosette. Rachelle Ann Go is in terrific voice as Fantine, but doesn't make as much of the role as she managed to with the far less substantial role of Gigi in Miss Saigon. Thankfully though, she resisted the habit many Fantine's have of draping themselves over the very edge of the stage, prompting the entire upper circle audience, which incidentally was heavily composed of her Korean fans, to simultaneously leap out of their seats to watch the last chorus of 'I Dreamed a Dream'.
Fresh from his leading performance in one of the most talked about off-west end theatrical events of last year, Jeremy Secomb's Javert doesn't seem to live up to the hype generated his Sweeney. His renditions of both 'Stars' and 'Javert's Suicide' are among the strongest solo performances in the show, but his movements occasionally engender him more as a pantomime villain than a human character. It was pointed out to me that perhaps his performance is stronger opposite the principal Valjean, Peter Lockyer.
Of course, the nature of Les Mis still being what it is, it's very difficult for even a mediocre cast to fail to capture the essence of what still makes this a contender for not only the best stage musical in the West End, but the entire world. Knowing this, I'm already planning a return trip to see the production's next cast, but this time will be making sure to be watching from the Stalls or Dress Circle, the way the alienating direction clearly intended.
I was surprised then, given my understanding of this, that Adam Bayjou's performance as Jean Valjean fell flat for much of the performance in early January. A far better mayor than a convict, Bayjou's performance was better sung than it was characterised, though on occasion even the vocals were unconvincing, and the whole performance served to prove how important Valjean's casting is to the dynamic of the entire show. Without a strong lead in Valjean, the opening section falls flat and the booming orchestral introduction of 'At the End of the Day' is less of a heart pounding climax to the show's prologue and more an impatiently awaited beginning to the rest of the show. Pleasingly, however, and though it wasn't enough to salvage the entire performance, Madame Thernadier cover Tamsin Dowsett gave a brilliant supporting turn, stronger even than the initially hilarious and likeable but soon grating Phil Daniels.
The highlight of the cast is without doubt Rob Houchen and Carrie Hope Fletcher as Marius and Cosette, who have such excellent onstage chemistry it almost completely upstages the relationship between Marius and Zoe Doano's Cosette. Rachelle Ann Go is in terrific voice as Fantine, but doesn't make as much of the role as she managed to with the far less substantial role of Gigi in Miss Saigon. Thankfully though, she resisted the habit many Fantine's have of draping themselves over the very edge of the stage, prompting the entire upper circle audience, which incidentally was heavily composed of her Korean fans, to simultaneously leap out of their seats to watch the last chorus of 'I Dreamed a Dream'.
Fresh from his leading performance in one of the most talked about off-west end theatrical events of last year, Jeremy Secomb's Javert doesn't seem to live up to the hype generated his Sweeney. His renditions of both 'Stars' and 'Javert's Suicide' are among the strongest solo performances in the show, but his movements occasionally engender him more as a pantomime villain than a human character. It was pointed out to me that perhaps his performance is stronger opposite the principal Valjean, Peter Lockyer.
Of course, the nature of Les Mis still being what it is, it's very difficult for even a mediocre cast to fail to capture the essence of what still makes this a contender for not only the best stage musical in the West End, but the entire world. Knowing this, I'm already planning a return trip to see the production's next cast, but this time will be making sure to be watching from the Stalls or Dress Circle, the way the alienating direction clearly intended.