Tom Kitt and Lin-Manuel Miranda’s high school drama is a good musical…a very good musical. The score is strong, the lyrics (by Miranda and Amanda Green) are smart and the book, by Jeff Whitty, is neat. Cheerleader Campbell’s coming-of-age story is full of wholesome instruction. With knowing nods to make an adult audience smile, the show is worth seeing. Sadly, this production doesn’t do it justice.
Director Guy Unsworth’s touring show is never less than professional. Perhaps that’s the problem? There’s a cold edge to what should be a warm piece. Maybe the venue doesn’t help? The Queen Elizabeth Hall is great for classical concerts, but a musical feels out of place. Yet the whole affair feels stilted, as performers labour through set pieces (including impressive cheerleading) accurately – but with little sense of enjoyment.
The funniest roles, Alicia Belgarde’s Eva and Chloe Pole’s Skylar get laughs (as they should). But characters like Bridget and La Cienega come across as worthy rather than funny. Campbell’s entry to a new school is serious stuff! True, the role of Danielle (who Campbell must win over) has a lot to do – she questions all sorts of privilege. But the hugely impressive Vanessa Fisher, who takes the role, is undoubtedly capable of more nuance than Unsworth demands. Meanwhile, the guys in the show are just for laughs and end up close to tokenistic.
Star attractions fall into the same problem. Amber Davis takes the lead and is competent. But there is an earnestness to the role that is unrelenting. Belting out every note doesn’t help either. Former Olympic gymnast Louis Smith has some crowd-pleasing moments but, his athletic achievements aside, has too little stage presence. Nobody embarrasses themselves. And nobody looks as if they are having much fun either. Bring It On brings little cheer.
Alan Plater’s 1999 play tackles two subjects. As a day in the life of theatrical legend Margaret Ramsay, it’s about a formidable and fascinating woman. And Peggy For You is also a play about plays. This strong revival, carefully directed by Richard Wilson, gives both topics their due: both are interesting but I’ll admit to preferring one far more than the other.
Both Plater and Peggy have plenty to say about plays. And Art with a capital A. Tricks and techniques of the trade are plentiful, some of them are funny (even for those of us who don’t work in the theatre). But the insights are heavy handed. It’s hard not to make this subject feel rarified. Meta-theatrical moments are clumsy.
Plater shows us three ages of the playwright. There’s the newcomer, the man of the moment and a former most-promising but now out of fashion. Trouble is, it feels all these descriptions should have a capital letter. The characters are well played by Josh Finan, Jos Vantyler and Trevor Fox. But each role is slim. Only Fox’s old-timer has much to say or do.
Plater suggests there is a high price to pay for plays yet doesn’t explore this idea enough. Another author kills himself. But this offstage character isn’t vivid enough to have much impact. What interests is Peggy’s cold reaction to the death. Indeed, all the way through the play, it’s Peggy who interests most.
A great source of anecdotes and one-liners, Plater gives a wonderful depiction of his own agent. Explicit that the play is “a pack of lies”, the strategy aims at creating a portrait close to the truth. His Peggy is complex and entertaining, the depiction cleverly affectionate while acknowledging her many faults.
Taking this starring role, Tamsin Greig’s performance is phenomenal. It would be all too easy to exaggerate this larger than life woman. Greig, while always funny, shows incredible control. Volatile emotions and a sharp intellect are clear, imperiousness is balanced with vulnerability. Ramsay was a woman to watch and Greig mirrors this – the performance makes for compulsive viewing. A bully the wrong side of loveable eccentricity, a passion for danger gives the character edge. Does Peggy’s commitment to the theatre excuse it all? No, but Peggy will choose a pub theatre over the National, and who doesn’t admire that?
There were long delays to the opening of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s new musical. Like many theatres, the show is still troubled by Covid as my struggle to get a ticket, and a delayed start when I finally did go, illustrates. But the spirit of making sure that the show goes on is alive and well. Gratitude and respect to those working so hard.
First some praise for the clever typography for the posters. The e and r form a shoe! It’s a small point, but indicative of how much skill and thought is behind every aspect of a show that deserves to be hit.
Working for the first time with Emerald Fennell, who wrote the book for the show, says much for Lloyd Webber’s spirit of adventure. The name on a lot of lips after the success of her film, Promising Young Woman, getting Fennell on board to update a fairy story is a smart move. But let’s not forget how adventurous Lloyd Webber has always been. Success numbs us to the fact that musicals about Christ or cats are bonkers ideas.
The tweaks Fennell has made to the story are smart. A “bad Cinderella” stands out for not caring about her looks – in her hometown of Belleville that’s a crime. It’s when Cinderella changes her mind, colluding with a Mephistophelean godmother beautician, that things go wrong. A feminist slant? Maybe, although Cinderella finds no sisterhood in the show. But the female roles are refreshingly strong and undoubtedly make the piece.
Nothing to be scared of
It’s great to see such a confident Cinderella. She has problems, of course, but her strength of character powers the show. While Carrie Hope Fletcher has won praise for her performance, I was lucky enough to see Georgina Onuorah take the role and a great job she did, too. Gifted some great lines, the humour feel fresh and the singing great.
Rebecca Trehearn
Surprisingly, Cinderella isn’t the most interesting character. Both the Queen and her stepmother have more fun by being a little frightening. Rebecca Trehearn is a monarch with a past who might be a psychopath. Victoria Hamilton-Barritt brings a touch of Norma Desmond to a deliciously wicked stepmother. The heir to the throne isn’t Prince Charming (that’s his missing brother), but a sensitive soul who leads to the show’s explorations of masculinity – and isn’t that a toxicity to be scared of? Ivano Turco excels in the part.
Ivano Turco
The lyrics, from David Zippel, are intelligent. He is a safe pair of hands who makes the libretto worth listening to, as it’s sophisticated with the odd, well-judged, crudity. It’s a shame his lines are witty rather than laugh-out-loud funny.
Most importantly, the music is good. There is something here for all, with lots of catchy songs and poppy tunes that please. More traditional, orchestral numbers add some romance even if they don’t quite match. Cinderella herself sometimes sounds as if she should be in a different musical.
Costumes and sets, designed by Gabriela Tylesova, are all very clever. The dresses are just outrageous enough to raise a smile and the ‘cut-out’ sets suggest spontaneity. The action is kept swift by director Laurence Connor. Best of all, by not overstating the effort to be new and different, Cinderella wins respect. There’s enough campy fun to please all. But there’s also a sense of integrity. The show is interesting as well as great entertainment.
Irene Sankoff and David Hein’s heart-warming musical is a true tonic that’s guaranteed to raise spirits. It’s feelgood, for sure, but grown-up, too. Based on the true story of air passengers stranded in Newfoundland because of the 9/11 attacks on America, there are hard-hitting moments. But the folk of Gander, who looked after the ‘plane people’ forced to stay with them, show the very best of human nature.
Sankoff and Hein depict a cross-section of travellers and the local community that could be dizzying. Christopher Ashley’s direction is essential for clarity. The point is to show us the gamut of emotions and circumstances, to give us glimpses of lives before, during and after the crisis. With the cast performing multiple roles, several characters manage to stand out to great effect.
The music, inspired by Newfoundland’s Celtic heritage, is rousing, raucous and dramatic, managing to provide a real sense of place. And you will be humming the tunes the next day. If some lyrics are repetitious, they are always efficient. Even humour is crammed in. The key lies in using all members of the cast: their work as a chorus mirrors their characters’ parts in a close-knit community.
Fun comes from the eccentricities of the locals, established quickly and successfully. It could be an odd contrast with the trauma of those coming off the planes, but fear and anger are dealt with sympathetically. And it’s notable that metropolitan prejudices about small places are called into question aplenty. The joy of Come From Away is that it deals with a cliché – of ordinary people doing extraordinary things – so very well.
There is nothing ordinary about the dozen cast members who take on the responsibility of telling the story. They flit around roles with remarkable skill, and also manage to focus on key story lines that take turns to touch hearts, heads and funny bones.
The character of Hannah, worried for her firefighting son back in New York, is sure to stand out, but Gemma Knight Jones, who takes the part, is outstanding. Jonathan Andrew Hume and Mark Dugdale’s storyline as a gay couple does a lot of work to question assumptions and the performers are excellent. Another romance, between Kate Graham’s Diane and Alasdair Harvey’s Nick, is sweet. All the while, James Doherty’s mayor marshals the action. That’s only half the cast, so forgive me. The real achievement is the work of everyone on stage as an ensemble – moving together and sounding fantastic – bringing both energy and sensitivity to a great story.
‘Tis the theatrical season for Christmas carols. If you’re looking for something a little less traditional, then Alexander Knott’s new play is worth treating yourself too.
Cratchit is a spin on the Dickens classic. It uses the same characters and there are still ghosts. Bob, Scrooge’s clerk, is the focus. While the miserly master is haunted, Cratchit has his own problems to deal with.
Expanding on the poverty Dickens has already written about with legendary skill isn’t wholly successful. But taking a minor role in the original means there’s plenty of room to expand and Knott takes advantage of this.
We see an avuncular Bob at first. The surprise is that he likes a drink. John Dagleish is excellent with the audience and has fantastic charm. As Cratchit’s problems grow, the character darkens. The “painted smile” puts on as part of a cowering servility hides a good deal of anger. There are powerful moments dealing with fear and depression. And it’s a shock to see him contemplate suicide.
The role is an excellent showcase for a performer. Taking on other characters, including Scrooge, Dagleish’s acting is of the highest quality. Likewise, his co-star Freya Sharp who offers admirable support in a variety of roles.
John Dagleish and Freya Sharp
The script is competent, it holds attention. Knott’s own clever direction helps a great deal. It’s all going very well until the ghosts arrive. They are more future focused, fair enough, and come with surprises I won’t ruin. But the glimpses at life that restore Bob’s faith in Christmas are so rushed, they become nonsensical. Knott doesn’t give himself, his audience, or his ideas enough time.
Dagleish keeps up the good work. There is more for Sharp to do – and she does it well. And Emily Bestow’s set comes into its own – the design gets a big tick even if I’m not sure about why we visit the places evoked. If some parts of Cratchit disappoint, there’s a lot of enjoy.
Just imagine Juliet decides not to kill herself at the end of Shakespeare’s play. David West Read’s mashup show pretends to be written as we watch… by none other than Anne Hathaway and her hubby, who battle to change the script before our eyes. And it’s all set to hit songs. It’s a mad idea, even if not entirely original. But & Juliet is so silly it ends up a success.
The key is Luke Sheppard’s direction, which powers through a lot of action and even more songs. There are some big problems, and there’s little time for questions of credibility, but just sit back and enjoy until the standing ovation at the end.
Creating most of the atmosphere is an amazing performance from the show’s titular lead, played by Miriam-Teak Lee. This Juliet is just… cool. And, like her character, Lee is someone you want to watch – and hear – with an uncanny ability to make any song sound great, again and again and again.
What’s selling the tickets is the music of Max Martin, one of the most successful producers and song writers ever. Hits for the Backstreet Boys, Bon Jovi and Britney Spears are used to tell a coming-of-age story. So, you know the joke. Will Juliet learn from her mistakes or (oops) do them again? Will her troubles make her Stronger? It’s been done before (and, if memory serves, We Will Rock You did it better). But although it’s only one joke per song. It is a very good joke.
Martin may be second only to Lennon and McCartney for US number one hits (how’s that for pub trivia?) but that doesn’t mean the songs are suited to the stage. No matter how excellent the arrangement (credited to Dominic Fallacaro and Bill Sherman, who have done superb work), the songs are used for a laugh, or occasionally to get across an idea that gets a cheer. A lot of dialogue ends up interrupting some very good singing.
Melanie La Barrie and Miriam-Teak-Lee
There is a lot to get through. There’s a romance for Juliet’s Nurse: the excellent Melanie La Barrie who, with her paramour, played by David Bedella, offers strong comic support as well as sounding fantastic. There’s a new marriage for Juliet, this time with a sweet and spoiled Francois Du Bois (what kind of band do you think he’s in?) that Tim Mahendran makes appealing. And there’s a twist. For Francois falls for Juliet’s gender-neutral best friend named May, portrayed with sensitivity by Alex Thomas-Smith, who sings I’m Not A Girl, Not Yet a Woman.
Tim Mahendran and Alex Thomas-Smith
I enjoyed all the above. A lot. But the show is let down by its wimpy Romeo (yes, he returns), a role that Jordan Luke Gage doesn’t seem to be allowed to do much with. Worse still is the second plot, with Mr & Mrs Shakespeare trying to save their marriage. Poor Will comes off as a bore (Oliver Tompsett is wasted in the part) and, in a show proud of bad puns, seems embarrassed at one or two. And despite a spirited performance from Cassidy Janson as Anne Hathaway, her character doesn’t impress either. It’s a conceit too far from West Read that gets in the way of more interesting action.
If you’re going to dismiss the show as woke, don’t. Jargon may jar but it’s well intentioned, while I feel obliged to point out Juliet has ‘agency’ in the original play anyway – and that rewriting history is being done better down the road by Six. Nonetheless, seeing the young woman alongside two older female characters getting what they want is heartening. And the inclusion of a non-binary character is important. Remember, a juke-box musical doesn’t have to do any of this to sell tickets. Which makes claims for & Juliet that are a long way from the nonsense on stage. Make no mistake – silliness propels the show. And the energetic ensemble is led by a true star. But there’s also a sincerity here to make any faults forgivable.
Who doesn’t love a ghost story at Christmas? With London’s oldest surviving music hall as a venue, director Justin Audibert’s show has a great start – even a chill in the auditorium adds to the atmosphere.
Based on a story by Elizabeth Gaskell, writer Piers Torday’s tale isn’t that scary. Despite a seance in progress, in an abandoned house no less, it is the past that haunts the strong and spirited Hester. The Child in the Snow is a good yarn, well performed.
The action is set in 1918, which makes sense in terms of the fashion for spiritualism and as a specific moment in the history of Britain’s Empire. The theme of a colonial past is handled well and proves thought-provoking.
Maybe there’s too much trauma for young Hester? Returning to her childhood home to deal with her amnesia, she also has her experience as a nurse in France to deal with. Furthermore, there’s a lot of narration for the character. The descriptions are fine, but jar with the action of the seance underway. Safiyya Ingar, who takes the role of Hester, deserves praise.
The script’s clunky moments don’t hold back Debbie Chazen, who is excellent. Her Mrs Leonard, the Cockney medium Hester hires, is a delight. The comedy is superbly handled and the accent a real study. When Mrs Leonard’s usual spirit guide, a temperamental solicitor called Gerald, doesn’t appear, Chazen impresses more and more by taking on all the play’s other characters.
There are big problems with the off and on nature of the seance that structures the show. Ingar does well: retreating into her character’s childhood and convincing us as to the urgency of her search into the past. There’s a neat magic trick, a good set by Tom Piper, and strong lighting design Jess Bernberg. But it is really Chazen and her consistently strong comic touches that power the performance. While you might question laughing too much in a ghost story, she draws us into the action with great skill and saves a stumbling show.
‘If it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ is not the maxim of Cameron Mackintosh. Despite enormous success, the RSC’s production of Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg’s musical has been restaged. Previously a touring version, the ‘new’ show comes from former cast members and now directors Laurence Connor and James Powell. It’s obvious how well they know the piece. And don’t worry – Les Mis is as wonderful as ever.
If a little upstaged by the fantastic concert version of the show, which filled in after lockdown, Connor and Powell have clear ideas. I won’t be drawn into saying if the result is better or worse, but there’s no reasons Trevor Nunn’s previous version should be considered definitive. If the new version seems more static, maybe more traditional, it’s still a crowd pleaser.
The moral struggle between convict turned religious convert Jean Valjean and police inspector Javert, a very literal embodiment of law and order, is focused to the point of perfection. There are social issues, romance and, of course, revolution. The marvel of Nunn and John Caird’s adaptation is not just that all of this is easily followed by an audience, but that it enthrals.
Jon Robyns as Jean-Valjean
There is a rawness to some of the vocals that might raise eyebrows. Squeezing out all possible drama – and the show is melodramatic anyway – is prioritised by Connor and Powell. Bradley Jaden’s Javert is a charismatic figure, fraught with angst. If the role is overshadowed by Valjean, that’s down to Jon Robyns’ star presence. Both male leads give terrific performances.
The comedy is particularly strong, mostly due to the always excellent Josefina Gabrielle and Gerard Carey as the dastardly Thénardier couple. And there’s a superb Enjolras (leader of the 1832 revolt the show documents): Jordan Shaw brings a beauty to the singing of this role that I hadn’t appreciated before.
Connor and Powell have clearly inspired their cast. And credit where it is due, plenty has been learned from Nunn: the staging isn’t fussy, several scenes are powerful because of their simplicity. There is justified confidence in On My Own(and a great performance from Sha Dessi). It’s a shame Empty Chairsat Empty Tables has less impact; I just can’t imagine how that could have been improved.
Talking about the revolution
The redesign comes from Matt Kinley, also long associated with the show. The big news is that the famous revolving stage is gone! The world hasn’t stopped turning as a result, but I did miss it: there’s a little too much marching on a spot. The action, you might say energy, is literally more frontal – with characters facing the audience almost obsessively.
It’s clear where money has been spent. Javert’s final scene does look better. And the projections of Parisian sewers are more technically advanced. Yet backdrops (inspired by Victor Hugo’s paintings) impress mostly because of their size. It’s all part of the production being a little, well, flatter. That isn’t always a bad thing: the show also seems speedier.
Nunn was no stranger to a tableau, but the new production feels frozen at times – almost too eager to focus on key moments that are literally in the spotlight. Lighting designer Paule Constable has done lovely work that’s dramatic and directs attention. But occasionally there is a halting feeling to the show. It’s as if everyone is posing for a photo.
These are observations rather than criticism. You are sure to enjoy Les Misérables as much as ever – the music and the performances are marvellous. Debating if the production is tighter and more direct or maybe a little less exciting is now part of the fun. If I’m not sure anything really needed fixing, this new Les Mis is far from broken
There are plenty of laughs while Paul Miller’s triumphant production of Terence Rattigan’s brilliant comedy lights up the stage. This is one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a long time.
The wartime wedding of Earl Harpeden and Lady Elisabeth becomes a farce when she meets two Allied soldiers who make her think again about getting hitched. The trouble is a question of experience: blasé Bobbie has been around, while Elisabeth is too innocent for both their good.
Philip Labey takes the lead as the Earl with an “open boyish manner” balanced by a knowing touch: this toff is nice and not dim. Labey’s is a massive role marked by a generosity to colleagues that benefits all. And Labey has the ability to generate sympathy; for all the flippancy and fun, I wanted the marriage to go ahead. Rebecca Collingwood plays the intended, showing Elisabeth has a mind of her own. Collingwood’s depiction of wide-eyed innocence is funnier than you can imagine – howls of laughter greet the simplest statements.
Rebecca Collingwood as Lady Elisabeth
Conor Glean is an appealing Lieutenant Mulvaney fresh off the boat from the US of A. The performance is neat and the humour gentle. Michael Lumsden and John Hudson play a bluff Major and a refined butler respectively – both to perfection. If Jordan Mifsúd’s Lieutenant Colbert got more laughs from me, put it down to ‘appy memories of ‘Allo ‘Allo. Mifsúd’s faux-French is a skilled work of genius.
Sophie Khan Levy
Really stealing the show is the man-eater and self-confessed trollop Mabel Crum. I wonder if she was Rattigan’s favourite part? Mabel gets laughs even when she’s not on stage. Sophie Khan Levy’s embodiment of this confident and caring character shows how essential the role is in this carefully constructed play.
It’s Mabel who ends up in charge. Don’t be fooled that she’s continually sent to the kitchen. Prodding male egos in While The Sun Shines shows a subversive touch that has aged well. The distasteful attempts at seduction would have been as off for Rattigan as they are for us, but offence is deflated by how useless the men are! And it isn’t just one couple under the microscope here – it’s the institution of marriage. That Mabel stands aloof from it all makes her a character to cheer. Mabel gets the last laugh. The audience laugh all along.
Disney has detractors as well as fans, especially when it comes to the theatre. Stage productions based on movies often feel like money-making machines. Let’s just say that the shop is the first thing that greets visitors to The Lion King. Nonetheless, popular since its première 21 years ago (wow), the story of Simba’s coming of age and coming to power is a great show.
Not that there’s much to the story (even it it is inspired by Hamlet). Like the characters, who make pantomime look like Chekhov, what’s going on is really only for younger members of the audience. The humour is often tiresome. The goodie and the baddie, Mufasa and Scar, only have to show one dimension: current incumbents of the roles, Shaun Escoffery and George Asprey, do it very well. Our hero, Simba (Kayi Ushe), doesn’t so much come to greatness as have it thrust upon him. The only really interesting character is Nala who, as Janique Charles’ performance shows, should probably be the one in charge.
For all the hit songs from Elton John and Tim Rice, you don’t have to enthuse about the score to enjoy The Lion King. Anyway, the musical highlights really come from the choral arrangements by Lebo M.
So, The Lion King is a little like a musical in miniature. The plot, character and score are traditional but truncated. The story is simple, characters stripped back and none of the scenes or songs is very long. But there’s no doubt that the book, by Irene Mecchi, and direction, from Julie Taymor, know exactly what to do. Maybe that’s why children love it, yet all ages appreciate it? The show is confident and comforting.
Surely there is more to such incredible success? Yes. The dancing and puppetry impress all. Hugely complicated technically, the show is a collection of set pieces that are timed to perfection. Garth Fagan’s choreography is ambitious and creative and complements the puppetry designed by Taymor and Michael Curry perfectly. The costumes are justly iconic.
The Lion King delivers its magical moments whenever performers enter the stage or auditorium. Each new creature, filling the stage with colour and light, is greeted with joy. It is the production that wins praise and hearts – alongside the thrill of children seeing that theatre can be better than film. Disney does the stage proud.
