Dear Evan Hansen

 Curve, Leicester

2^nd October, 2024

“Sincerely, Me”

The 2017 Tony Awards are controversial in our house. Benj Pasek and Justin Paul’s (music and lyrics) and Steven Levenson’s (book) 2015 musical stormed the ceremony that year, beating out tough competition. For us, Tim Minchin’s lyrical dexterity and subversive score for Groundhog Day, and Sankoff and Hein’s folky music and serene harmonies in Come From Away were far more worthy winners. But that’s the nature of award shows. Dear Evan Hansen, which opened its UK tour last month in a new production by Nottingham Playhouse, focuses on 21st century adolescence, the liberation vs. encumberment of social media, and the mental health pandemic sweeping the globe. With its anthemic score and heart-wrenching performances, the show will please its predominantly younger fanbase and newcomers alike.

The story – a teenager with social anxiety unintentionally goes viral when he claims to have been friends with a local boy that committed suicide – has the bones of a great drama. However, Levenson’s book doesn’t flesh out all of the central characters and some of its outré plot points are not fully resolved. The sensitive subject of teen suicide could be handled in several ways: an honest, deep and sympathetic portrayal of Connor Murphy, illuminating the true hardships of mental illness; or perhaps an intimate chamber piece looking at the aftermath and lasting effects on the family; or alternatively, we could be presented with a pitch-black social satire on the pitfalls of social media (echo chambers, #fakenews, morbid humble-bragging and self-publicising). Pasek, Paul and Levenson try to portray all three of these scenarios. It’s too much to cram into a show and the resulting lack of focus leads to an underdeveloped approach.

Evan Hansen is a solid protagonist, and in the capable hands of Ryan Kopel, he’s engaging and likeable in his relatable angsty ways, cleverly avoiding some of the annoying tics and pitfalls of Ben Platt’s performance in the 2021 film. Yet, there are several wasted opportunities for character development with the supporting characters – I’d have been fascinated to see more of the psychological reasoning behind the Murphys’ behaviour towards Evan following Connor’s death, and Levenson and co. missed a chance to draw more from the peculiar relationship between Evan and fellow loner Alana. The show’s denouement is problematically glossed over as well. One minute Evan’s secret is out and his world comes crashing down, the next we see him months later a slightly more confident young man, and the intervening seasons are wavered with the odd flippant remark. We see too little of the aftermath of this momentous revelation. It feels a cop out to present a show that addresses such serious topics and then drop the curtain just as it starts to get difficult.

I feel this muddled quality is partly down to the tonally jarring restrictiveness of Pasek and Paul’s songs. Their soaring melodies with sugary lyrics seem more fitting for TV talent shows than a sympathetic analysis of the complexities of the teenage social sphere. That’s not to say the songs aren’t commendable in their own right – they’re often extremely catchy (‘Waving through a Window’), uplifting (‘You Will Be Found’), and beautifully sung by the cast (‘So Big/So Small’). And I found that they sometimes do successfully advance character, in particular for Evan who’s so unable to articulate himself otherwise. But they detract from the dramatic clout the concept promises. Compared with the punchy music of Sater and Sheik’s Spring Awakening or the recent Donmar production of Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey’s Next to Normal, which share similar themes with piquancy and depth, Dear Evan Hansen can feel over-polished and po-faced.

Thankfully, Adam Penford’s production is freed from some of the shackles of the original production and provides a more expressive, dynamic staging. Chiefly, Morgan Large’s design is more aesthetically pleasing than the West End production. A series of sliding screens and mirrored prosceniums reflect, refract and distort the action, and act as a canvas for Ravi Deepres’ brilliant video design: a proliferation of social media posts, hashtags and TikTok live streams. It’s both a digital space and a literal one, populated with the school corridors, bedrooms and kitchens of modern America. Large has also effectively refreshed the costumes (gone is the iconic blue striped T-shirt synonymous with the Broadway production). For all intents and purposes, Dear Evan Hansen still feels like a one man show, but the supporting cast do a fine job with the material. In particular, Lauren Conroy believably captures Zoe’s internal conflict over her antagonistic feelings for her brother, and Alice Fearn impressively evokes the vulnerabilities and pride of Evan’s single mum. Killian Thomas Lefevre (as Connor) and Tom Dickerson (as Jared, Evan’s accomplice with a devilish sense of humour) also give enjoyable performances, especially in one of the show’s much needed lighter moments, ‘Sincerely, Me’. Vocally, the cast are all on top form and it’s in show’s big numbers such as ‘Waving Through a Window’ and ‘You Will Be Found’ that all creative disciplines come together to create exhilarating moments. But a musical is more than those moments alone, and in Dear Evan Hansen it’s a shame they’re not more substantially reinforced by the rest of the material. These points aside, there’s no doubting this is a triumph for Nottingham Playhouse which will embrace younger audiences around the UK.

Dear Evan Hansen plays at Curve, Leicester until 5^th October as part of a UK tour. For further information, please visit https://www.evanontour.com/

The cast of Dear Evan Hansen. Credit: Marc Brenner

The Mountaintop

 Curve, Leicester

25^th September, 2024

“I’m just a man”

Katori Hall often uses her home of Memphis as a setting for her plays. In Hurt Village (2012), she explores multi-generational experiences of displacement and isolation in an area of drugs, poverty and crime in the city. In her Pulitzer Prize winning The Hot Wing King (2020), which finished its run at the National earlier this month, a group of men compete for the trophy in a local cooking competition. And she shares her home state with Tina Turner, which surely contributed to her book for Tina: The Tina Turner Musical which plays at Curve next March. In her 2009 Olivier Award winning The Mountaintop, the setting is the Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spends his last night. The night before his assassination, the play takes us inside Room 306. After a few flirtatious exchanges with the maid, King is made to confront his work, ideals, past and future in a taut 90 minutes in which Nathan Powell’s production brings out the more poetic moments in the play.

Hall’s text remains a creeping force of nature: at once mundane and extraordinary, a characteristic exemplified in both King and Camae (Justina Kehinde). The opening moments see King order coffee and a pack of his favourite Pall Malls, and take his shoes off to kick back. He repeatedly says ‘I am a man’; and that he is – father, preacher, sinner – but he is also a beacon of light, emblematic of great love and great suffering for generations to come. Thus, Hall’s creation of Camae is a perfect match for a figure as monolithic as King. Camae is an earthy woman with a taste for whisky, cigarettes and sex, yet when she unleashes a torrential hymn-like sermon worthy of the great man himself we sense that not everything is as it seems. Camae, like King, also has a greater purpose. As it becomes clear that Camae has been summoned to the motel room to deliver more than just coffee, we see Hall’s play turn from an intimate reimagining of a conversation in a motel room to something more ethereal.

Powell brings these more abstract moments to the fore. At first, we Lulu Tam’s design take great care to achieve verisimilitude. Her recreation of the motel room has the same specifications: the double beds, the plush yellow carpet, the striped chair, the round coffee table. Even the neon sign (lit by Adam King) for the motel is a near-copy of the one in Memphis. But over time, the set (with the play) opens up to invite us further into King’s internal feelings. It snows in the room, we see grass appear, and even popcorn drops from above at Camae’s demand – a nod perhaps to her more unearthly powers. In Ray Strasser-King’s portrayal of King, we see the man and not just a historical figure. We see him tire with the weight of his toils; we can see the fire that drives his life; we see the holes in his socks and his flaws; and we see his peerless oratory powers with the drawn-out vowels and musical syncopations.

There’s no doubting the power in the play’s final moments. Kehinde leads us through the years following King’s death up to the present day in front of Jack Baxter’s video design. Hall’s text gains a poetry and musicality as we see historic achievements and struggles in equality from 1968 to present day: from ‘If the glove don’t fit, you must acquit’, the AIDS epidemic and 9/11, to Condoleezza Rice and the election of Barack Obama. In 2009, seeing the newly-inaugurated Obama must have given the end of the play a huge sense of hope. Powell draws on struggles in recent British history, including the war in Iraq, a Brexit speech from Nigel Farage, and the 2024 summer riots. The motif ‘The baton passes on’ is repeated. When I last wrote about The Mountaintop in 2018, I compared that line to a line from another great American play, ‘the great work continues’ from Tony Kushner’s Angels in America. I can’t help but wonder what progress has been made since 2018, but I guess that’s the nature of the baton… always being passed on.

The Mountaintop plays at Curve, Leicester until 5^th October before visiting MAST Southampton and Theatre Royal, Stratford East. For further information, please visit https://www.curveonline.co.uk/whats-on/shows/the-mountaintop-3/

Ray Strasser-King (Dr. Martin Luther King) - Photography by Ellie Kurttz

 

Pretty Woman

 Curve, Leicester

16^th September 2024

“Everyone who comes to Hollywood needs a dream”

Garry Marshall’s 1990 movie made a star of Julia Roberts and was the highest grossing R-rated Disney film until this year. Originally a darker script, J. F. Lawton made it a lighter rom-com when picked up by Disney and Touchstone Pictures. The Disneyfication, as such, of sex workers on the boulevards of Los Angeles was box office gold. Bryan Adams’ and Jim Vallance’s musical adaptation had a short run on Broadway in 2018 before opening in London just before the pandemic. As the show nears the end of its UK tour (its last stop is in Sheffield next week), the musical, as light and bubbly as the hotel suite’s champagne, appears to be a hit with UK audiences as much as the film.

A big (huge) part of that is because the intellectual property of its origins is well-known and popular. Wealthy businessman Edward Lewis (Oliver Savile, in fine voice) picks up Vivian (Amber Davies) who’s walking the streets of Hollywood. Their meet cute is over her fascination of his posh car and his for her hourly rate. Out of loneliness or sheer curiosity, he takes her back to his suite in the Beverly Wilshire Hotel and offers her $3000 in exchange for her company for the week. Despite (perhaps because of) the foundations on which their relationship is built, this twist on the Pygmalion tale easily has the audience rooting for them as a couple. Savile and Davies’ chemistry really connected with the audience last night and even though we may have misgivings about both characters’ decisions, this is frothy rom-com territory delivered well. The problem is that the musical steers so close to the source material it’s practically chained to it – the plot, much of its dialogue and even some of Tom Rogers’ costumes are recognisable from the film. Lawton’s screenplay is the basis for the show’s book by him and Marshall. It may give audiences some reassurance that it’s simply the movie live on stage, but I would argue that it doesn’t add anything new or provide much depth to what we already know.

Other than Roy Orbison and Bill Dees’ title song, which makes an appearance at the curtain call, it’s pleasing to say the rest of the show’s score is new. Adams’ and Vallance’s music is largely pop-rock with a mixture of upbeat and ballad numbers. I particularly liked their interest in Hollywood. A character called Happy Man, who sells maps to homes of the stars, sings numbers like ‘Welcome to Hollywood’ and ‘Never Give Up on a Dream’ which provide a thread for the musical’s setting. It’s in these upbeat songs that Adams and Vallance scratch away at the idea of Hollywood being a place of ambition and dreams but also of unhappiness; a place people escape to and also want to escape. That idea is enhanced in Vivian’s ballad ‘Anywhere but Here’ (the title speaks for itself) and Edward’s song ‘Freedom’ (one of the more memorable songs). The end of Act One number ‘You’re Beautiful’ is a crowd-pleaser in which Vivian fully looks and feels worthy of her surroundings. But other than that, a lot of the other songs are sadly forgettable.

Under Jerry Mitchell’s steady direction, the show has excellent production values. David Rockwell’s design captures the two sides of Hollywood: one with the fire escapes and migraine-inducing neon with an underlying grubbiness, the other the flowing drapes and neo-Renaissance frills of the hotels, theatres and boutiques, all of it framed by starlit palm trees. Also a nice surprise is Ore Oduba in a sort of everyman role as Happy Man, hotel manager, store manager and even conductor, connecting the dots in this dotty town. His performance(s) has enough distinguishing features to separate his various characters, his singing and dancing are solid, and he’s entertaining without being cloying. The role has been made into a vehicle for his talents to a winning effect.

I can see why the show was snubbed at the Tonys and Oliviers but it delivers what it promises. In Savile and Davies’ star performances in particular, Pretty Woman is a heart-warming musical rom-com which steers away from the darkness.

Pretty Woman plays at Curve Leicester until 21^st September as part of its UK tour. For further information please visit https://uk.prettywomanthemusical.com/

The company of Pretty Woman. Credit: Marc Brenner

An Officer and a Gentleman

 Curve, Leicester

12^th August, 2024

“Everybody live for the music-go-round”

A review of Taylor Hackford’s 1982 movie said that An Officer and a Gentleman ‘relies on the strength of [its] stereotypes to build a conventional but hugely compelling drama’. This musical adaptation directed by Nikolai Foster, first seen at Curve in 2018, makes no apologies for embracing the melodrama of the movie. There’s been a string of 80s and 90s screen-to-stage adaptations in recent years. Like Back to the Future, Mrs Doubtfire and Pretty Woman (which plays at Curve next month), An Officer and a Gentleman relies on the brand recognition of the film to draw in the audience. Add a back catalogue of (mostly) 80s hits and Foster’s usual polish, and you’ve got an air-punching, feel-good hit.

 

On entering the auditorium, an audio montage depicts 1980s pop culture: MTV, commercials, news clips, jingles. But it was also a decade of the AIDS crisis, Reaganomics, and a decline in social mobility. This creates a political backdrop for the caravan parks, cheap motels, sleazy bars and paper mills of Pensacola, Florida. It is here where the US naval aviation training facility offers a last chance saloon to its cadets and for the female workers of a nearby cardboard box factory who see the pilots as their ticket out of there. It's a strong frame for a rom com, and the grit and the colour of the story is reflected in Michael Taylor’s set: metal staircases, chain fences and bright neon signs. Despite these two different settings, one full of promise and the other a dead-end job, the protagonists all want something more out of life. From difficult upbringings to ‘trailer trash’, they toil all day and play all night.

 

Douglas Day Stewart’s (original screenplay) and Sharleen Cooper Cohen’s book sometimes draws the characters too boldly but this perhaps only enhances the cult classic melodrama status of it. And it also occasionally feels at odds with the overall feel, wanting to be grittier that the show wants it to be. Jukebox musicals offer a sugar rush of recognition as we hear pop and rock classics. Foster gives the audience what they want with the songs, resulting in several of moments of musical ecstasy. One of these comes in the form of the act two karaoke opener ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’, where Ben Cracknell’s lighting and Tom Marhsall’s sound surge with the energy on stage. George Dyer’s orchestrations impressively translate the songs to the stage. In particular, ‘Up Where We Belong’ concentrates its melody to leitmotifs that punctuate and underscore the show, leading to the triumphantly uplifting final scene.

 

Strong performances bolster the production further, thanks to a cast in fine voice and vigour. Luke Baker as Zack Mayo leads the show with a rough-edged confidence and a fantastic tenor rock timbre that make his solo numbers soar, while Georgia Lennon is a delectable blend of vulnerability, sass and heart as love interest, Paula. Paul French and Sinead Long are eye-catching and have a great chemistry as Zack and Paula’s friends Sid and Lynette respectively. Their performances elevate what could be a run-of-the-mill romantic sub-plot into an arc every bit as enjoyable (yet tragic) as the main story. Special mention must also go to Chris Breistein, stepping in as Gunnery Sergeant Emil Foley at this performance. His command of the impossible to please taskmaster is stellar. 

 

An Officer and a Gentleman was one of the first shows that really cemented Curve as a powerhouse producer of commercial musicals. This remains the case in an unabashed production which embraces the frivolity of the form.

 

An Officer and a Gentleman plays at Curve, Leicester until 17^th August as part of a UK tour. For further information please visit https://www.curveonline.co.uk/whats-on/shows/an-officer-and-a-gentleman/

 

Georgia Lennon and Luke Baker in An Officer and a Gentleman. Credit: Marc Brenner

101 Dalmatians

 Curve, Leicester

23^rd July, 2024

“I’m an animal lover”

Disney’s 1961 animated film and the 1996 live action film adaptation of 101 Dalmatians were two of my favourites as a child. Anthropomorphic puppies and a genuinely terrifying villain amongst a chocolate box English setting made me go back to them time and time again. Dodie Smith’s 1956 novel has now been adapted into a musical by Douglas Hodge (Music & Lyrics) and Johnny McKnight (Book), itself adapted from Zinnie Harris’ stage play. First performed at the Open Air Theatre in 2022, the musical has been reimagined for a UK tour in a highly-spirited production directed by Bill Buckhurst. The puppies are still anthropomorphic (uncannily so), the setting is still cosy, and the villain is… well, maybe not genuinely terrifying but suitably camp.

It gets off to a promising start. After being abandoned, Dalmatian Pongo (Benedict Hastings at this performance) is taken to a dogs’ home where he’s adopted by employee Danielle (Jessie Elland, perfectly pitched). ‘Take Me Home’ is a fun number which embraces the fun of talking (and singing!) dogs and establishes their need for a pet human. Like the films, we see a parade of humans paired off with their canine counterparts: a chic fashionista with a poodle, an elderly widow with an older dog, and a tall biker paired with a yappy terrier. Later, on a walk in the park, there’s an excellent meet cute between Danielle and aspiring fashion designer Tom (Samuel Thomas) and his dog Perdi (Emma Thornett) involving bum sniffing and tangled leads.

 

Hodge’s music and lyrics are impressive in this opening section. He establishes setting, character and emotion in songs which appeal to a family audience. ‘Bury that Bone’, set in a cosy family living room, features some yearning melodies and nicely observed lyrics about the familial bond between humans and their furry friends. One of the best songs, reprised at the end, is ‘One Added Extra’ where the 15 puppies are born. But overall, the score is pleasant although not terribly memorable. Some don’t find their place or are extraneous like ‘The Pub Song’ which just helps to establish setting but don’t really move things along.

Dognapping capers soon ensue and it’s here that the show occasionally gets a bit repetitive. Once both couples (human and canine) have settled down, Tom is pressed upon by the infamous designer Cruella de Vil to design a coat using the fur of the dalmatians’ puppies. Ultimately, it’s a classic children’s story of good triumphing over evil. An entertaining sequence in act two sees the puppies try to escape Cruella’s lair with the help of a cat and other dogs nearby. The puppets have been impressively designed and directed by Jimmy Grimes. It’s interesting seeing a show where the puppets talk and are funny. Having worked as Associate Puppet Director on War Horse, Grimes instils a sense of verisimilitude in the puppets through the actors which operate them, often achieving a different gait for the various breeds. However, some are more simple hand puppets with a sense of fun and creativity which appeals to a younger audience. The slinky body movements for the cat are also brilliant. David Woodhead’s design is rather appealing. Its colourful set pieces and old-fashioned theatricality are charming and give a nod to the 1950s setting of the novel. Although, I found some of the more modern elements such as mobile phones and Crocs incongruous to the overall aesthetic.

Faye Tozer makes for an entertaining villain as Cruella (she’s sharing the role with Kym Marsh and, just announced, Kerry Ellis). Her performance has the crazed eyes and pointed gestures of Glenn Close’s performance as well as a primness which Tozer brings to the role. McKnight’s book captures her caustic wit and sarcastic jibes reminiscent of another fictional fashion icon, Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada. But, for me, her relationship with henchmen Casper and Jasper (committedly played by Charles Brunton and Danny Hendrix) veers too much into pantomime. And despite her excellent vocals, her songs like ‘Für Fur’ and ‘I Can Smell Puppy’ aren’t as memorable as her opening number, the jazzy ‘Animal Lover’.

Despite its flaws, it’s not often you see a new musical in a mid-scale touring production, especially one which appeals to young families, so kudos to the producers. There’s much to admire here and the appearance of a cute puppy at the end will give you puppy eyes for 101 Dalmatians.

101 Dalmatians plays at Curve, Leicester until 27^th July as part of a UK tour. For further information, please visit https://101dalmatians.co.uk/

Emma Thornett, Samuel Thomas, Jessie Elland and Linford Johnson in 101 Dalmatians. Credit: Johan Persson

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie

 Curve, Leicester

15^th July, 2024

‘Out of the darkness into the spotlight’

Who knew Sheffield held such a wealth of musical theatre inspiration? Earlier this year we saw the stunning Standing at the Sky’s Edge, an ode to the city’s architectural and social history. But before that Olivier Award-winning show took the West End by storm, Tom McCrae, Dan Gillespie Sells and Jonathan Butterell’s heart-warming Everybody’s Talking About Jamie paved the way for Sheffield-based musicals. Clocking up over 3 years in the West End and now on its second sell-out national tour, Jamie has all the rough and ready wit and charm that cements it as a modern British classic.

The story is simple but effective. Sixteen year old Jamie New (Ivano Turco) longs to be a drag queen, an ambition he keeps secret from his classmates and his waspish teacher, who continually tells him to ‘keep it real’ while recommending that he pursue a ‘normal’ career such as becoming a fork-lift driver or prison guard. With the help of his selfless mum, studious best friend and a local veteran drag queen, Jamie fulfils his dreams, though not without hitting a few snags along the way.

While the musical’s themes of acceptance and embracing individuality are universal, it’s a quintessentially British show. Jamie’s glamourous fantasies are juxtaposed with the kitchen-sink reality of life in a working-class community, and the relationship between Jamie and Margaret is a touching and grounded representation of single-parent families. McCrae’s amusing yet low-key plot, coupled with Butterell’s simple direction, is one of the show’s selling points, as the emphasis is placed on small, everyday situations, based in a relatable environment. Jamie isn’t aiming for fame and fortune, he isn’t campaigning on a global scale, his goal and driving passion is his determination to wear a dress to his school prom. The scale is small, but the stakes are high and highly personal, making the final triumph that much sweeter. Hopefully every young person watching that has ever felt different, or had to hide their true self can identify with Jamie and find inspiration from his story.

Gillespie Sells’ music is catchy without being cloying, offering a mix of poppy bangers such as the title song, ‘Work of Art’ and ‘And You Don’t Even Know It’, interspersed with sweetly contemplative numbers like ‘The Wall in My Head’ and ‘It Means Beautiful’. Margaret’s Act 2 showstopper ‘My Boy’ is a tear-jerking and heart-warming ode to a mother’s unconditional love for her child, delivered with powerful emotion by Rebecca McKinnis. The domestic setting occasionally gives way to glorious flights of theatrical fancy, courtesy of the drag performers at the local Legs Eleven club. A particular highlight is the camp noir pastiche number ‘The Legend of Loco Chanel’, as Kevin Clifton’s Hugo has a blast recounting his alter-ego’s misadventures of old. Following his breakout success in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cinderella, Turco makes a highly lovable Jamie.  He’s sassy without ever coming across as obnoxious, while also conveying Jamie’s vulnerability and self-doubt in a beautifully candid way.

Neither cynical nor saccharine, I have no doubt that Everybody’s Talking About Jamie will continue to delight audiences for years to come, and has hopefully paved the way for more home-grown musicals that celebrate the unapologetic joy of individualism within British culture. This week saw the announcement that Robert Hastie has been appointed as the new Deputy Artistic Director of the National Theatre. As Artistic Director of Sheffield Theatres, he’s overseen productions like Life of Pi, Rock/ Paper/ Scissors, and Jamie, all of which points to much promise for his time at the NT.

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie plays at Curve, Leicester until 20^th July as part of its UK tour. For full tour details please visit: https://everybodystalkingaboutjamie.co.uk/

Ivano Turco (Jamie New) and Talia Palamathanan (Pritti) in Everybody's Talking About Jamie. Credit: Matt Crockett

A Chorus Line

 

Curve, Leicester

Monday 8^th July, 2024

 

‘I really need this job…’

In recent years Curve have really hit their stride producing big shows that have gone on to have an extensive life on the touring circuit and in the West End. An Officer and a Gentleman is returning to the stage later this year, The Wizard of Oz had a successful run at the London Palladium and is now touring the UK, and Curve’s 2016 production of Grease has become a mainstay of the West End summer schedules in recent years. Now their latest return offering, a UK tour of Michael Bennett’s Pulitzer Prize-winning A Chorus Line, is back and in even better shape than before.

The question that always arises with productions of A Chorus Line is, inevitably, ‘Is the stage big enough to hold the eponymous ‘line’?’. This is never an issue for Curve, as the vast stage frames the ensemble beautifully, feeling neither cramped nor sparse. One could say this is the perfect venue. Utilising the theatre’s technical prowess to optimum effect, Howard Hudson’s lighting is truly spectacular, bringing the necessary scenic pizzazz Grace Smart’s minimal set. The technical aspects of Nikolai Foster’s production remain a big selling point. For example, the use of a handheld camera throughout is a nice touch – despite a small hiccup the night we attended. These projections provide a deeper insight into the emotional nuances of the normally ‘faceless’ ensemble figures and create an intimacy that could otherwise be lost in such a huge space. While ‘live-stream’ theatre seems to be in vogue right now, from Jamie Lloyd’s Sunset Boulevard and Romeo and Juliet, to Curve’s own Evita, so you could say that the use of cameras in the initial 2021 run proves A Chorus Line to be somewhat of a theatrical trend-setter!

Yet this is not merely a technical gimmick: Foster uses the close-ups to home in on the thematic relevancies of Marvin Hamlisch and Edward Kleban’s 1975 musical, relating them to a new, contemporary audience. The often invasive, tight camera angles enhance the sense that Foster’s production sees the musical almost as a prototype for the talent shows that have ruled pop-culture for the past couple of decades. Director Zach’s (Adam Cooper) continual insistence that the dancers tell him the ‘truth’ and dig down to unleash their feelings is reminiscent of the exploitative nature of Simon Cowell and co.’s entertainment tv shows; shoving a camera lens into the faces of emotional hopefuls in an attempt to manufacture sympathy.

When we first saw this classic a few years ago it was apparent why those in the industry hold the piece in such high regard. After a second viewing I’m still in the mind that a weakness to James Kirkwood Jr. and Nicolas Dante’s book is that it can be a little navel-gazing. I prefer the subtler poignancy and psychological depth of Sondheim’s Follies as an insight into the workings of the showbiz ensemble. However, the company’s dedicated characterisation work and Foster’s clean direction ensures each auditionee is memorable.

For me, while I can’t get fully on board with some of the self-indulgent sentimentalism, where A Chorus Line really excels is in the comedic moments. I loved the self-deprecating nature of numbers like ‘Sing!’ and ‘Dance: Ten; Looks: Three’. Similarly, ‘Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love’, which recounts episodes of the excruciating embarrassment we all experience as teenagers, and the yearning feeling of those in-between years betwixt childhood and adulthood, strikes a wonderful balance between being very funny and capturing the pathos of the loss of innocence. This number is also a fine example of how the piece is a true showcase for the ensemble. Every cast member gets their moment in the spotlight. The final grand number is a fabulous juxtaposition, leaving the audience torn between being awe-struck by the gold-clad spectacle and mourning the loss of the individuality of the characters we’ve spent the last couple of hours getting to know.

Foster and co. have made small tweaks which make this revived production a step up from its previous incarnation – money has obviously been spent on upgrading the wigs, and thankfully the tin foil backdrop has been scrapped from ‘The Music and the Mirror’ in favour of a more natural aesthetic. The production is topped off by Ellen Kane’s sublime choreography. The dance routines are the kind that leave those who can dance wanting to learn the numbers, and those who can’t dance (eg. me!) wishing they could. In all, A Chorus Line is a great example of triple threat theatre. The stamina of those involved in the show is outstanding and the affection the cast and creatives have for it is palpable.

A Chorus Line plays at Curve, Leicester until 13^th July 2024.

For full tour details please visit https://www.achoruslinetour.com/#booktickets

 

The cast of A Chorus Line. Credit: Marc Brenner

The Cherry Orchard

 Donmar Warehouse, London

18^th May, 2024, matinee

“This orchard is heritage listed”

The above line, a cry for preservation from Benedict Andrews’ new adaptation of The Cherry Orchard which is now playing at the Donmar Warehouse, clearly isn’t the case with Chekhov’s play. Nor should it be the case for any play. Theatres aren’t museums after all. Andrews, whose memorable production of A Streetcar Named Desire at the Young Vic was a theatrical highlight of the last decade, has stripped the play of any historical trappings and given it a contemporary sentiment. The intended effect, I suppose, is to mine the emotional and intellectual depths of the play, to unlock new meaning and appeal to new audiences. The actual effect, despite it being an immensely watchable production, is to dampen the play’s dramatic tension.

Updating modern classics is no new thing of course. Indeed, in his Streetcar, the setting gave the play a refreshed immediacy, reminding us of the ever-resonant problems of obsession and poverty. And even with Chekhov, Andrews’ own reimagining of Three Sisters in 2012 was praised for getting to the heart of the drama. On the other side of the Atlantic, a modern-set Uncle Vanya adapted by Heidi Schreck and starring Steve Carrel is currently playing at the Public. Contemporary settings can help to remove formalities, traditions or simply a perception of being old fashioned which can act as barriers to the audience. With it comes the opportunity to highlight universal themes within the text. In Andrews’ Cherry Orchard, Yasha vapes, Firs calls someone a fuckwit, and Gaev seems to be permanently sucking on a Chupa-Chup. Instead of turn of the 20^th century Russia, we’re led to believe these are characters and issues directly relating to today. The setting’s eponymous orchard and the dilapidated estate it sits on most definitely remain in Russia. Magda Willi’s minimal design also gives the play a modern aesthetic, stripping the stage of any set pieces. The audience sits on all four sides of the Donmar’s small stage and James Farncombe’s bright lighting keeps the house lights up throughout the play. It’s an unadorned setting with nowhere to hide, including for the audience: at one point, Gaev (Michael Gould) picks an audience member to join him onstage to act as a bookshelf. The most notable marker of time and place are Merle Hensel’s contemporary costumes, and the graphic (but not too ornate that they strike as period) rugs which carpet the floor and walls. Time and place are clearly defined, but not so much that they overwhelm the production with a particular point about contemporary Russia.

Ranevskaya (Nina Hoss) returns to her country estate after spending some time self-exiled in Paris. Grieving her son and careless with cash, Ranevskaya rolls pennies through other characters’ legs and lends money she doesn’t have to her likewise broke neighbour. With the threat of an auction looming, Lopakhin (Adeel Akhtar) suggests that her only hope is to chop down the orchard and turn the estate into a tourist retreat. Despite an excellent programme note, and Chekhov’s clear interest in environmental and ecological change, there’s only a small reference to climate change. Instead, Andrews’ adaptation is keen to focus on class and a society on the cusp of change. Akhtar’s Lopakhin is the son of a ‘lowest of the low’ Serf who was a servant on the estate. He now epitomises nouveau riche complete with a fancy suit, gold watch and the swagger to match. It’s a compelling performance with menace underneath the bonhomie. Part of this social change sees landowners selling land at whatever cost to make a quick buck and Lopakhin later drunkenly announces he’s the new owner of the estate. In the second half, a symbolic, loud and inexplicable twang is heard. Possibly a cable snapping in a distant mine, the noise, and what it might represent, is closer than the characters like to think.

There are areas of Andrews’ concept which are less persuasive, including his treatment of onstage/offstage space. When actors are off, they’re still in view sitting in the front rows of the audience. It struck me that The Cherry Orchard is a play where entrances and exits are loaded with dramatic potential. Characters return, depart, move on (or not). To eliminate them sucks much of the drama out of the play. In the second act, Ranevskaya questions what Trofimov (Daniel Monks) knows about life to the verge of mocking him. Monks then returns to his seat followed by Anya and Varya’s entering and laughing that he’s fallen down the stairs. But of course, he hasn’t – we can see him sitting down. The effect is to make you think about the power of entrances and exits rather than experience their drama. The production is not without its merits. Once the orchard is sold, the denouement leading up to Ranevskaya leaving the estate is effectively rendered. To stage clearing the house, the actors do a ‘get-out’, ripping the carpets and gaffer tape from the floor and walls to leave a bare stage, a house and a theatre ready for its next life. When they vacate the property, the actors leave the auditorium. For Ranevskaya, there is a finality suggested to her exit, her goodbyes contrasting with Lopakhin’s opportunism, rubbing his hands together and saying farewell only ‘until the Spring’.

In addition to Akhtar, there’s a host of enjoyable performances. A younger Ranevskaya than I’ve previously seen, Hoss brings outs the careless naivety of Ranevskaya. June Watson quietly stands out as Firs, slowly shuffling and grumbling around the large house until she’s the only one left (although I wondered if she was in character or not for her offstage naps).  Eanna Hardwicke, making his professional stage debut after his chilling performance in The Sixth Commandment for which he was BAFTA-nominated, adds a much-needed injection of humour with his clowning and incessantly squeaking shoes. And much of the rest of the cast provide a youthful bounce and (perhaps naïve) optimism which keep the pace up nicely. They are well complemented by a trio of musicians who underscore much of the second act onstage with the cast performing into microphones (the music is composed by May Kershaw and musical direction and additional composition by Zac Gvi). Writing this a few weeks after seeing it, I can’t deny that Andrews’ aesthetic stays with you. But, despite the strength of Chekhov’s play, the interpretation gets in its way. The orchard has been stripped. But at what cost?

The Cherry Orchard plays at the Donmar Warehouse until 22^nd June. For more information, please visit https://www.donmarwarehouse.com/

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Nina Hoss and Adeel Akhtar in The Cherry Orchard. Credit: Johan Persson

Blood Brothers

 Curve, Leicester

23^rd April, 2024

“And only if we didn’t live in life, as well as dreams”

A NY Times theatre critic recently said that the thing about live theatre is that it’s perpetually dying. That’s not the case with Blood Brothers. Bill Kenwright and Bob Tomson’s production has been playing almost continually since the mid-80s. Willy Russell’s 1983 musical of twins separated at birth only to grow up on different sides of the track is an epic tale of class and superstition. Its original production closed after 6 months, but after Kenwright and Tomson picked up the reins, they reworked and refined the show on tour before taking it back into the West End in 1988. Alongside the show’s 24-year run in London (I was there on closing night in 2012!), the show has enjoyed UK tours and international productions. Even by the early 90s, when the show opened on Broadway, it had achieved ‘Now and forever’ status. In a successful attempt to whip up word of mouth about the show, Kenwright reportedly flew 87 guests from the UK to New York for the opening, including several London critics. He was arguably the show’s biggest champion and in return it’s probably his biggest hit. Blood Brothers is as strong as ever, with not only audience members returning but also cast members staying with the show for decades. The result is that both new and returning cast members breathe new life into it.

After agreeing to give one of her twins away to the upper-class lady she cleans for, the superstitious Mrs Johnstone is forced to make a pact. If either twin finds out they’re one of a pair, she’s convinced they’ll both immediately die. The next couple of hours condenses thirty years of their lives, from when they’re seven (nearly eight!), teenage friendships, and the hardships of their young adult lives set on the backdrop of the dole lines of Thatcher’s government. The cast do well to manage the fine line between melodrama and mawkish. As Mrs Johnstone, Niki Colwell Evans carries the show’s emotional intensity to its inevitably tragic end. She also has a powerhouse voice, especially in her vocal inflections in ‘Easy Terms’, her riffs in ‘Bright New Day’ and her performance in ‘Tell Me It’s Not True’. Complementing her throughout, Sarah Jane Buckley pitches a beautifully understated performance as Mrs Lyons. Scott Anson, returning to the role of the omniscient Narrator after 20 years, is a more menacing narrator than some past interpretations. Stalking the stage for much of the show, he really comes into his own in the monologues. The ‘Summer Sequence’, charting the highs and misbegotten dreams of being a teenager, is especially moving. But the heart of the show comes in the relationship between Mickey, Eddie (Joe Sleight) and the girl in the middle of the pair, Linda (Gemma Brodrick). Sean Jones has been playing Mickey since the 90s and charts the journey from youthful innocence to adult tragedy compellingly. He’s crafted his performance over 25 years but what’s refreshing is that he’s still as invested as the new cast members. From his brotherly bond with Eddie and awkward teenage presence with Linda, you can see him reacting in the moment to new things Sleight and Brodrick are bringing to their roles. It’s their innocence and the actors’ conviction to the show’s momentum which makes the ending so devastating. Timothy Lucas as Mickey's older brother Sammy also brings new ideas to the role.

Kenwright and Tomson keep the show moving at an impressive pace on Andy Walmsley’s multi-functional set, with the iconic Liver Building towering over the streets of terraced houses in the background. Russell's text is filled with motifs, echoes and parallels which their direction enhances. Hiding places for toy guns become hiding places for real guns, childhood jokes extend into adulthood, and Russell’s melodies and lyrics are cleverly reprised. Apart from a line that’s been understandably cut from the second act, the show remains the same now as it has for years. Whether Blood Brothers is a fan favourite to which they keep returning or a reluctant student’s gateway into theatre, it’s still a resounding success. Six months after his death, it remains one of Kenwright’s lasting legacies to British theatre.

Blood Brothers plays at Leicester’s Curve until 27^th April as part of a UK tour. For further information, please visit https://www.kenwright.com/

The cast of Blood Brothers. Credit: Jack Merriman

The Motive and The Cue, and Dear England

 We saw The Motive and The Cue at the National Theatre Lyttelton on 3^rd June, 2023 and Dear England at the National Theatre Olivier on 28^th July, 2023

Two of the biggest new plays of last year opened on the South Bank. Big in terms of their subjects, staging, cast sizes and acting prowess, both also enjoyed huge reach. Jack Thorne’s The Motive and The Cue concluded its run at the Noel Coward Theatre last month and was broadcast in cinemas across the country. James Graham’s Dear England was the first play to run at the Prince Edward Theatre in nearly 80 years, has also enjoyed an NT Live screening and will soon be adapted into a miniseries for the BBC. Both were immensely enjoyable pieces of theatre and among our theatrical highlights of 2023. And yet, I’ve struggled to write about them since. Not because they were unremarkable – far from it. Reflecting on them several months on, and in anticipation of the Olivier Awards this weekend, I find it striking how the plays share some qualities.

Both plays feature characters based on real people from recent history. And, in a way, both are work plays in which characters bring a new approach which clashes with the old. One play looks inwards at the world of theatre and acting through the lens of Richard Burton’s Hamlet in 1964, the other is a state of the nation play about the England men’s football team under Gareth Southgate’s management. One was stylish and elegant in the hands of Sam Mendes, the other a high concept, fast-paced production by Rupert Goold. One strived for verisimilitude even with its minor characters, the other a more broad-brush approach even with some of its more significant characters.

“A dream itself is but a shadow”

The Motive and The Cue depicts the month-long rehearsal period of John Gielgud’s Broadway production of Hamlet. From the read-through to the first preview, scenes from the rehearsal room document the increasingly fraught relationship between Gielgud and Burton as their styles rub up against each other. For Burton, the weight of Gielgud’s Hamlet bears down on him made worse by a perceived lack of practical direction. For Gielgud, the feeling that he produced his best work at 27 can’t quite escape him. Thorne based his play on two books, both chronicling the troubles from the rehearsal room, and he structures the play excellently so the tension bubbles away. Initially it’s perhaps just a phrase that’s taken the wrong way or which has been deliberately loaded, designed to irritate. This slowly builds to some explosive arguments and there are some delicious lines. But this is more than just a backstage drama, it’s a play about aging, and actors’ changing approach to their process. Ultimately, the play’s the thing. It’s what drives a wedge between them but also leads to their reconciliation. The payoff is that Gielgud is able to unlock the play for Burton who finds his own way of approaching the Dane. As Gielgud says, “Your actions. Your deeds. Your Hamlet”.

These scenes are interspersed by lighter scenes featuring Burton (Johnny Flynn) with his wife Elizabeth Taylor (during their first marriage) and parties in their apartment. Taylor (Tuppence Middleton) is given more credibility here than some other representations of her, such as in the TV film Burton and Taylor (2013). She’s fun and doesn’t fully realise her own talents but also has a passion for theatre even though she comes from a different acting lineage. She also exudes great chemistry with Burton and has some cracking lines. When Burton can’t decide whether he needs a drink or a slap, she replies ‘I believe you married me because I’m quite prepared to give you both’. Other scenes are tête-à-têtes between Gielgud and Taylor, or his stage manager, or even a gigolo. Mark Gatiss’ performance as Gielgud is superb. His portrayal goes beyond the aphorisms and ‘Dear boy’ term of endearment, digging deeper to capture his care with words, his loneliness, modesty and temperament consistently and credibly.

Reading the text, I was fascinated by Thorne’s use of stage directions to navigate the escalating tensions between Burton and Gielgud: ‘A match flares between them’, ‘Gielgud knows this moment will blow up if he continues’, ‘They are still circling each other, but finally Gielgud goes for the kill’. The beats and silences give time for characters to process thoughts and calculate their next steps which makes for great drama. Mendes’ production realised this with such clarity, echoed in Es Devlin’s set with its fine eye for detail and smooth scene transitions. The Motive and The Cue is a great character study and a sharply written play, deserving of the Olivier.

“And the dream is over for England”

Rufus Norris isn’t the first Artistic Director of the National to use their tenure to ask questions about nationhood. Indeed, asking what it means to be a National Theatre and what work should be on its stages is a key part of its role. His touring production of Carol Ann Duffy’s My Country was an ambitious if flawed attempt at holding a mirror up to the nation. Rory Mullarkey’s Saint George and the Dragon offered an epic slice of English folklore and a scramble to diagnose contemporary Britain’s problems. And Clint Dyer and Roy Williams’ excellent Death of England series uses football to explore English national identity in relation to race and class. Now its James Graham’s turn to ask the England question. And who better than Graham, who’s become celebrated for his ‘modern history’ plays which include This House, Ink and Quiz, to write a big play about the highs and lows of Gareth Southgate’s English national football team for a national stage.

It’s unashamedly populist fare that wears its heart on its sleeve. In the first act, we’re given a potted history of the team’s disappointments in recent history followed by Southgate’s appointment and how the team adjusts to his new approach. The crux of the play comes from fear being at the heart of what’s holding England back. Southgate’s job is to change England’s story. And what better way to tap into the national psyche than with the presence of an actual psychologist. Much of the play’s conflict comes from Southgate’s addition of Head of People and Team Development Pippa Grange (an ever-watchable Gina McKee) to his team. Her approach to make the team fearless is too touchy-feely for some. Dramaturgically, she slows the pace of the play and gives it some space to breathe. Despite Southgate and the team being recognisable names and faces, it’s strange that she seems the most real character on stage. Much has been said about Joseph Fiennes as Southgate, Will Close as Harry Kane and Josh Barrow as Jordan Pickford. They give hugely enjoyable, uncanny, performances. And it’s perhaps a clever trick from Graham and Goold that they seem even more like their real-life counterparts because the chorus is made up of a parade of caricatures (including vicars, milkmen and workmen) giving a street-level commentary on England’s woes and triumphs.

Ultimately, the play is a game of two halves. In the second, Graham has given himself quite the task: he’s got to finish act one and work through another two, both of which go deeper with its questions. As Southgate says, it’s about something much bigger than football. It does start to feel a little rushed and as a result doesn’t quite live up to the first act. But this is not to detract from the play’s successes. Whilst it may not be the most intellectually rousing, Dear England is emotionally stirring in a way that plays seldom are.

The Motive and The Cue and Dear England can still be seen at cinemas across the country. For more information, please visit https://www.ntlive.com/. The Olivier Awards will be presented in a ceremony at the Royal Albert Hall on 14^th April. Both plays have been nominated for Best New Play alongside Jez Butterworth’s The Hills of California and Beth Steel’s Till The Stars Come Down.

Mark Gatiss and Johnny Flynn in The Motive and The Cue. Credit: Mark Douet

Lewis Shepard, Albert Magashi, Josh Barrow, Will Close, Ebenezer Gyau, Darragh Hand, Adam Hugill, Ryan Whittle in Dear England. Credit: Marc Brenner.

The Children

 Nottingham Playhouse

30^th March, 2024, matinee

“They don’t like having things taken away from them”

A woman stands in the kitchen of a friend she’s not seen in 38 years with blood pouring out of her nose. This opening image, both comic and dark and full of intrigue, is typical in a play full of similarly striking moments. Set in a coastal cottage in the months after a triple-whammy of an environmental disaster, The Children sees two retired nuclear physicists getting to grips with the changing world around them. Having vacated their farm near the exclusion zone of the affected nuclear power plant, Hazel and Robin are enjoying a simpler existence: there are power shortages to contend with and they still daren’t use running water. But other than that, they have swallowed the immediate dangers and are seemingly content. So when their former colleague and friend Rose (Sally Dexter) turns up out of the blue, the couple are faced with a life-changing decision.

Lucy Kirkwood’s Tony-nominated play, which opened this week at Nottingham Playhouse, premiered at the Royal Court in 2016. Interestingly, Caryl Churchill’s Escaped Alone also opened at that theatre in 2016, another play which likewise mixes the domestic and the catastrophic led by characters who are all over 60. But whereas Churchill’s play sharply contrasts banal conversations with the dystopian through sudden monologues which express the characters’ fears, Kirkwood’s play is more of a slow-burner. The setting tends towards the naturalistic. As realised by Amy Jane Cook and handsomely lit by Jamie Platt, we see a fairly sparse cottage kitchen in need of a lick of paint. You can tell it’s not well lived-in but an attempt has been made by its occupants to make an effort: wild flowers and melted candles sit in wine bottles, there’s a fruit bowl on the table, and throws are draped over a wicker chair. Hazel and Robin inhabit the setting seamlessly, ensuring there’s a veneer of normality to their lives. ‘We haven’t seen [the children] since the disaster, of course’ Hazel (Caroline Harker) nonchalantly tells Rose. Later, when Robin (Clive Mantle) enters carrying a child’s trike, he casually waves a Geiger counter over it. Kirkwood places the everyday side by side with existential terror, and Kirsty Patrick Ward’s production excellently blends these different elements. Kirkwood’s dialogue is energetic and filled with humour, and she’s structured the play so cleverly. Moments which seem inconsequential take on new meaning later, and every line has been carefully considered.

The play’s setting and the environmental disaster which makes it so captivating doesn’t override the play. All three characters have led interesting, full and rewarding lives and that gives cause for conflict to arise. Despite Rose not seeing Hazel for 38 years, it’s as if she’s been to this cottage before. On being invited to sit down, she pulls a footstall out from under the chair she couldn’t have known was there. She later fetches Hazel a glass of water and knows exactly where the glasses are kept. Something is clearly amiss and her relationship to Hazel and Robin is later revealed to be more than it first appears. The characters’ hidden depths are reflected in the performances – the production is finely acted by Dexter, Harker and Mantle. Ward has harnessed the cast’s familiarity with the text leaving you feel relaxed in the actors’ company such is their trust in each other. Dialogue just tumbles from their mouths, occasionally overlapping like it would in everyday conversation.

The effect is to emphasise the realism so when the play explores questions of epic proportion it’s all the more disturbing. As the play progresses, the reality of Rose’s visit comes to the fore. I won’t give too much away but she presents them with an opportunity which would involve a great deal of sacrifice. For Hazel, she adamantly refuses. Cautious by nature (she eats healthily, keeps fit and puts sunscreen on even during the winter), she feels she’s earnt the right to relax in her twilight years. But Robin’s more tempted. The flimsiness of his daily routine is apparent, the homemade wine and the tending to the cows is all filler. In Mantle’s performance, you can sense Robin’s restlessness, a yearning to contribute something more. An early story about him daring to drive his tractor closer to the cliff’s edge is telling. Death, he knows, is inevitable. But for Rose (an especially compelling performance by Dexter), we just rent our bodies for a short time. The question that the play poses about our responsibility to younger generations is one which lingers. And in the eight years since the play’s first production, it carries new meanings and even more weight.

The play’s closing image is as intriguing as the first: Hazel performs a yoga routine whilst Robin mops up water; one focusing on self-preservation, the other cleaning up the mess around them. It’s a refinement of the play’s central question and provides opportunity for the audience to reflect on the responsibility we carry in our time on this planet. Plaudits go to Nottingham Playhouse for reviving The Children, helping to cement its status as a contemporary classic.

The Children plays at Nottingham Playhouse until 6^th April. For further information please visit https://nottinghamplayhouse.co.uk/events/the-children/

Clive Mantle, Caroline Harker and Sally Dexter in The Children. Credit: Manuel Harlan