Sunny Afternoon

 

Curve, Leicester

21^st April 2026

“Complicated sells”

Some may have found it odd that Ray Davies won an Olivier Award in 2015 for Outstanding Achievement in Music for songs he’d mostly written 50 years earlier. But those songs are so catchy, so ingrained in people’s memories that they’ve achieved longevity. Whether it’s the hard rock sound of the opening chords in hits like ‘You Really Got Me’ or the specifically English and elegiac lyrics of songs like ‘Waterloo Sunset’, Ray Davies is undeniably worthy of that Outstanding Achievement in Music honour. So much so that the musical treatment was perhaps inevitable, and Davies’ and Joe Penhall’s 2014 musical Sunny Afternoon went on to win the Olivier for Best New Musical. That original production, first staged at Hampstead Theatre, has been remounted for a new tour, currently playing at Leicester’s Curve Theatre.

Penhall’s book charts the humble North London roots of the Davies’ brothers, The Kinks’ early success and their uneasy rise to fame, and personal and professional fallings out along the way. It’s a classic rags-to-riches narrative that’s nothing new in musical theatre. For those who have seen Beautiful:The Carole King Musical, MJ the Musical, TINA – the Tina TurnerMusical, The Cher Show, Jersey Boys and plenty of others will be familiar with the arc. But what sets The Kinks’ story apart is that the band are charged by a fiery fraternal relationship and distinctly English and quirky sensibility. Edward Hall’s sunny production opens with the old guard: a version of the band in their infancy playing backing music to upper middle-class parties with a Toff frontman. ‘Fuck this’ one of them cries and they break through to the front of the stage with that raw rock sound. It’s a theatrical ‘setting the scene’ which establishes the change in the culture in the 60s: the end of deference, a burgeoning new generation coming into its own as the country was still thawing from the war. We hear how the band came up with that hard rock opening riff by slashing a speaker to make a shattering, audience-rattling sound which defines a band and an era: cutting edge, edgy and hopeful. Early tensions with managers, record companies and producers come from their sound, image and even their name being shaped in a way which isn’t natural for them. Comparisons to The Beatles, The Who and The Rolling Stones partly caused these with a view from the managers to try and emulate their success. But ultimately doing their own thing, capturing a sense of home, specifically London, is what works for The Kinks: ‘I’ve been stuck in England, writing songs about England’. Penhall shapes this journey coherently and it’s clearly an area he’s interested in. In his 2018 play Mood Music, a singer-songwriter and her interfering producer showed how artistic and professional differences can arise when so-called experts intervene. In Sunny Afternoon, those external problems come from suspect financial agreements, union membership and a disastrous early tour in the US which also contributed to setting them apart from the other ‘British Invasion’ bands. Songs are interwoven throughout, either played by the band as if on Top of the Pops or at a live gig, or (more effective in my opinion) incorporated more introspectively and personally in the book scenes.

It may not be breaking new ground in musical theatre, but what really makes Sunny Afternoon stand out is its execution. Dave Davies swinging from a chandelier, bloody fights, a Vespa, champagne sprayed into the audience and an accomplished actor-muso cast give the show the energy at which The Kinks strived. This creates some wonderful set pieces against the backdrop of Miriam Buether’s wall of speakers. And the musicianship of the band and cast is off the charts. Danny Horn as Ray Davies captures his more thoughtful energy, Oliver Hoare shows Dave Davies’ edgier, doing-his-own-thing vibe. Zakarie Stokes as Mick Avory has a brilliant second act drum solo which reminded me of Miles Teller in Whiplash. And Harry Curley as the somewhat reluctant bassist Pete Quaife has a hilarious anxious energy. It’s good to see some of the original cast in supporting roles returning too, such as Tam Williams and Ben Caplan. The cast love the show just as much as some devoted Kinks fans in the audience. And for those who don’t know much about The Kinks, like me, you’ll be fans by the time ‘Lola’ plays out at the curtain call.

Sunny Afternoon plays at Curve, Leicester until 25^th April as part of a UK tour. For more information, please visit https://uk.thekinksmusical.com/

Danny Horn as Ray Davies and Oliver Hoare as Dave Davies in Sunny Afternoon. Credit: Manuel Harlan

Kiss of the Spider Woman

 

7^th April 2026

Curve, Leicester

 

‘Good times are coming our way […]

Viva la revolucion!’

 

It is perhaps no surprise that few have tried to mount new productions of Kander and Ebb’s Kiss of the Spider Woman. A musical adaptation of Manuel Puig’s 1976 postmodern labyrinthine novel covering themes of sexuality, gender, politics and state torture – all cut through the lens of Hollywood fantasy – is a tough sell. Yet, done right, it is a richly rewarding venture, juxtaposing glamour and grime, frivolity and fascism, all bound by an unlikely love story that is both intimate and expansive. Paul Foster’s production (the first major revival since premiering in the early 90’s) is a modest affair, small in scale, but offering a new angle on the narrative that uses the intimacy of Curve’s studio space to emphasise the claustrophobic setting of the Argentinian prison cell.

Political prisoner Valentin (George Blagden) is thrown in a cell with the whimsical Molina (Fabian Soto Pacheco), who is in the middle of serving a sentence for ‘corrupting a minor’. In pairing these disparate characters, the warden hopes that Molina will convince Valentin to give up his secrets and reveal the plans of his revolutionary comrades. Initially antagonistic, the duo slowly bond through shared suffering (beatings, poisonings, sleep deprivation), small acts of kindness, and Molina’s retelling of the films of his glamourous movie-star heroine, Aurora (Anna-Jane Casey).

While by no means Kander and Ebb’s most memorable score, there is a pleasant mix of latin-infused up-tempo numbers (‘Where You Are’, ‘Let’s Make Love’), tender ballads (‘Dear One’, ‘You Could Never Shame Me’), and rousing crescendos (‘Day After That’). Terrence McNally’s book does a commendable job of condensing Puig’s novel, and while some things suffer slightly in translation – for example the ambiguous, dream-like ending created by Puig is some of the most achingly beautiful prose; not to mention the intertextuality offered by Puig’s extensive use of footnotes on everything from Freud, to Marxism, and gender identity – McNally and co’s creation of a central figure (Aurora/The Spider Woman) to encompass all of Molina’s hopes, fears, desires and memories is ingenious. This personification makes up for the loss of the majority of the movie narratives from the source material. Instead, we have dazzling song and dance numbers from Aurora which offer glittering commentary on real-life scenarios. A particular highlight features Molina and Valentin playing supporting roles in Aurora’s film Flame of St. Petersburg, which slickly foreshadows the show’s denouement.

David Woodward makes the most of Curve’s small studio space with a two-tier set of scaffold, cell bars and metal grating, evoking the brutal, grey reality of prison life under fascist regime. This allows Andrzej Goulding’s video projections to shine, transporting us to another world through flickering reels, movie title cards and intense close ups of Aurora’s face. As I mentioned previously, Foster has made the most of this small scale production to highlight the intimacies of the text. As such, the central performances are faultless, and being up close and personal allows the audience to see every nuanced motion. Anna-Jane Casey proves herself again to be a triple-threat juggernaut, belting out note perfect numbers while performing high-energy routines without breaking a sweat. Casey relishes her dual role, hamming it up as the melodramatic Aurora in her many starring roles, while transforming into a genuinely creepy presence as the titular Spider Woman, the personification of death itself. George Blagden’s Valentin is strong and grounded, masculine without being overbearing, and his soaring tenor voice lends itself perfectly to the chill-inducing call-to-arms, ‘Day After That’. Rounding off the central trio, Fabian Soto Pacheco gives a star-making turn as the tragic Molina. Pacheco uses his whole being in bringing Luis to life; every placed hand and every arched eyebrow giving us an insight into the character. He is flamboyant, sympathetic, at times frustrating, and utterly memorable. The main cast are supported by a small yet flawless ensemble, who all get their moment to impress. In short, Foster’s production is well worth a visit for the indefatigable performances alone, which are on a par with some of the best I’ve seen.

Kiss of the Spider Woman is an extraordinary tale in all its variations and while I can see it may not be to everyone’s taste, at heart it is a tale about love and hope in its many forms. Familial love, romantic love, sexual love, patriotic love, radical love, artistic love. The narrative is dark and brutal, yet during the finale, when Molina sings of ‘optimistic endings’ this is only ironic on a superficial level. What the audience has just witnessed is definitely not ‘optimistic’, yet Puig and McNally’s message is one of hope, no matter how small the glimmer – where there is love, where there is passion, there is hope. The very act of changing, as our protagonists do over the course of the show, is in itself an act of hope, in spite of, or maybe because of our hero’s final sacrificial act. This chamber piece production is somewhat of a hidden gem, which thoroughly deserves a wider audience.

 

Kiss of the Spider Woman plays at Curve, Leicester until 25^th April before playing at the Bristol Old Vic from 29^th April – 16^th May, and the Southampton MAST Mayflower Studios from 2^nd – 6^th June.

Fabian Soto Pacheco, Anna-Jane Casey and George Blagden
in Kiss of the Spider Woman
Credit: Marc Brenner