The Midnight Bell - Review

Sadler's Wells, London

***

Directed and choreographed by Matthew Bourne

The company of The Midnight Bell

Inspired by the novels of Patrick Hamilton, The Midnight Bell plunges us into the murky, world of 1930s Soho. And there, thanks to Paule Constable’s gloomy lighting, it remains for one hour and fifty minutes (apart from a twenty minute interval). While Lez Brotherston's set design is atmospheric, the action is not always visible. That the follow-spots sometimes fail to light their intended subject doesn’t help matters. 

The titular Midnight Bell is a pub where various people – lonely, listless, cocky or whatever – meet. Most are looking for love or sex in some form or other, with some of the encounters working out better than others.  

Of course the choreography is sensitive, imaginative and very watchable. Some of the gestures are witty too and it’s all very human. This is Matthew Bourne, after all, and he’s a master of his own form of body language.  But the story telling is too vague and given the shadowy lighting it’s often hard to distinguish one character from another although each is, apparently, drawn specifically from the novels. 

Terry Davies’s evocative music, pre-recorded by an eleven piece orchestra with a singer, fits the mood of the piece perfectly. He deploys an effective use of voice, sailing over the top of the musical texture, to create mystery, sadness or wistfulness. Like Bourne, Davies is very good at evoking mood with, for example, a minimalist percussion rhythm accompanying a sex scene in a seedy hotel that is aurally arresting. Less successful is the use of characters miming 1930s songs which simply feels lazy. Dance in general, and ballet in particular, is a non-verbal medium and the songs are a jarring interruption. 

This revival of The Midnight Bell, first seen in 2023, is reasonably enjoyable theatre, athough the second half drags. Not Matthew Bourne’s finest.

Runs until 21st June, then on tour.

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Reviewed by Nicola Klein

Just For One Day - Review

Shaftesbury Theatre, London

****

Book by John O'Farrell

Directed by Luke Sheppard

The cast of Just For One Day

Forty years on, Just For One Day is more than a musical — it’s a time machine, a call to action, and an electrifying reminder of what’s possible when people come together for something bigger than themselves. 

The cast of Just For One Day are nothing short of exceptional. Their talent radiates from the stage, bringing both laughter and emotion in perfect balance. One moment you’re laughing out loud, and the next, a single tear slips down your cheek — such is the emotional range of this production. Every performer brings depth and nuance, but a special mention must go to Julie Atherton whose portrayal of Margaret Thatcher manages to be the most endearing version of Thatcher one could imagine. It’s a testament to the show’s clever writing and bold direction that even such polarizing figures are given surprising humanity.

From the very first note, the musical direction is nothing short of phenomenal. The band delivers a sound so rich and immersive, it feels like Live Aid has been reborn on stage. The energy, the urgency, the sheer volume — it’s not just heard, it’s felt. 

Just For One Day doesn’t shy away from the complexities of its own history. Modern issues — such as the common misconception of Africa as a single country, the predominance of white acts on the Live Aid stage, and the now-controversial lyric “Thank God it’s them instead of you” — are all addressed with both sensitivity and humour. The show skilfully acknowledges that while the messaging and representation reflected a very different era, the heart behind it was genuine. It honours the intention to help the people of Ethiopia, while also exploring how the event was shaped to resonate with the British public of the time. This balance of self-awareness and compassion gives the show a powerful layer of depth, reminding audiences that doing good is often messy — but always worth striving for.

One of the most striking moments in the show is when Craige Els's Bob Geldof asks: Where’s God? And in that question lies the heart of Just For One Day. The answer, subtle but powerful, echoes through the music and the movement: when people work together, when they believe in something greater, they become the miracle themselves.

“Who’s going to pay attention to your dreams?” the song asks of us. In 1985, the world did. And watching this today, it feels like it still can.

Reviewed by Suzie Kennedy

Booking until 10th January 2025

Photo credit: Evan Zimmerman

Fiddler On The Roof - Review

Barbican Theatre, London

****

Book by Joseph Stein

Lyrics by Sheldon Harnick

Music by Jerry Bock

Directed by Jordan Fein

Raphael Papo

Jordan Fein’s revival of Fiddler On The Roof first seen at London’s Open Air Theatre last year, returns to the city’s Barbican Theatre before a nationwide tour to last the rest of the year. As Tevye and Golde, Adam Dannheiser and Lara Pulver remain in their leading roles with both having matured from 2024.

Dannheiser always commanded the essentials of a Tevye . A big, bearded, Bear Jew of a man devoted to both family and faith and convincing as he deploys both humour and perfectly pitched pathos in his wrestling with life’s challenges, Dannheiser’s performance is one of the evening’s delights.

Pulver has grown in the last 12 months. Her role is now fully formed and be it gossiping with Yente, nagging Tevye, or just being the all-caring matriarch to her family, hers is a great Golde. While Tevye gets most of the juicy singing numbers in the show, Pulver, who’s musical theatre credentials are impeccable, makes fine work of the duetting balladry gifted to her by Harnick and Bock. Natasha Jules Bernard steps up to the role of Tzeitel, with Georgia Bruce returning as Hodel and Hannah Bristow as the clarinet playing Chava continuing to give Tevye one of the toughest challenges that can face an orthodox Jew.

Fiddler On The Roof is a Broadway classic and this production’s details are a treat. Beverley Klein’s maturely considered Yente and Raphael Papo’s enchanting Fiddler are fabulous. Julia Cheng’s choreography excites, while Tom Scutt’s ingenious design has beautifully translated the shtetl of Anatevka from the elements of Regent’s Park to the conventions of traditional theatre.

This musical remains a story of hope interwoven with never-ending tragedy. The show is set in Tsarist Russia around the turn of the 20th century when state-sponsored antisemitism was the norm, and the dark clouds of the Holocaust that was to befall European Jewry hadn’t even begun to form. Playing out in 2025, as calls for the destruction of the Jewish state echo around the world, the United Nations spouts blood libels that are echoed by governments and the media and murderous Jew-hate is manifest from Washington DC to Colorado, it feels like little has changed. 

This is a beautiful production playing to a very ugly world.

Runs until 19th July, then on tour

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Shucked - Review

Open Air Theatre, London

****

Music and lyrics by Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally

Book by Robert Horn

Directed by Jack O'Brien

The cast of Shucked

Deliberately corny and for all the right reasons, Shucked arrives in London bringing this gag-fest of a show to the Open Air Theatre in Regents Park.

The plot may be wafer-thin, but this is a show that doesn’t set out to be anything other than a homage to Broadway wrapped up in an old-fashioned sugary love story.

The delight in this show is not just its rapidfire gags and puns, but rather the outstanding cast and fabulous direction that Jack O’Brien can bring to a simple narrative, O’Brien being a proven master in distilling and extracting the entertainment from the everyday. He is helped by a gifted company that includes the vocal skills of Steven Webb, Monique Ashe-Palmer, Georgina Onuorah, Matthew Seadon-Young, Sophie McShera and Ben Joyce together with the comic talent of Keith Ramsay. Add in the cast's exquisite harmonies and Sarah O’Gleby’s immaculately delivered choreography and it all makes for a technically fabulous evening of new musical theatre.

The narrative sags a touch in the second half. Perhaps there's only so far that such a corny plotline can reach? Equally Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally's musical numbers rely too much on corn rather than Country, leaving them proving sometimes unsatisfying.

But bravo to the producers of Shucked for having the cojones to bring this show over from across the pond. It deserves a longer London run.

Runs until 14th June

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Barrioke - Review

Between The Bridges, London

*****

Shaun Williamson

When “Like A Baz Out Of Hell” is a show's Meatloaf (and Baz) inspired strapline, it becomes nigh-on inexcusable for this (Jonathan) Baz not to rock up at the latest London date on this event's hectically packed tour calendar.

But what IS Barrioke? Well, many years ago the actor Shaun Williamson played Barry in the TV soap opera EastEnders. Barry was a lovable rogue who, followers of the soap will recall, met an untimely end when he was pushed off a cliff by Janine, the femme fatale and love of his life.

However, while Barry from Albert Square may be sadly mourned, in a stroke of showbiz genius Williamson has exhumed the character from the vaults, to tour these islands delivering the classiest karaoke gig imaginable. Barry...Karaoke...Barrioke...geddit???

Back in 2004 Williamson took on Meatloaf’s mantle in Celebrity Stars In Their Eyes and as he opens the current show cosplaying the legendary American singer and belting out You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth he sets the evening off to a cracking start. For 90 minutes, and to audiences that can be up to a 1,000-strong, Williamson curates and comperes an evening of perfectly selected bangers that sees game volunteers lining up to sing their favourites, while the packed beer and cocktail-fuelled throng join in. Big screens ensure that everyone knows the words, with Barrioke proving the antithesis of a traditional West End show. At a typical musical, mobile phones and singing along are strictly forbidden (and rightly so). Here it is cameras at the ready and everyone singing along all evening - bliss!

More than just your ordinary karaoke gig, Williamson and his team know how to put together a playlist that keeps the joint jumping. A quiet word from the management suggested that my choice of a Barry (Manilow, that is) ballad may be too downbeat for the evening - so I swiftly switched to my reserve party piece of Tom Jones’s Delilah. Full disclosure, it is time for Jonathan Baz to declare an interest in this gig's five-star rating, for so it was, that when my name was called, I stepped up to the stage, Williamson’s manager Adele Seager videoing my every move, and sung my heart out with passion (if not, ahem, with talent).

Barry and Baz

Bright lights, a haze machine, and with the red sparkling jacketed Barry singing alongside, what’s not to love?? Readers, I tell you, it was one of my most enjoyable evenings on London’s South Bank in very many years!

The craic at Barrioke is off the scale. Just go!

For Barrioke tour dates click here

The Deep Blue Sea - Review

Theatre Royal, Haymarket

*****

Written by Terence Rattigan

Directed by Lindsay Posner

Tamsin Greig

Terence Rattigan’s The Deep Blue Sea is a minutely observed take on one day in the life of Hester Collyer. Middle aged and having suffered a failed marriage and a failing affair, we encounter Hester, prone on the floor of her tawdry Ladbroke Grove flat following yet another failure, this time in her attempt to kill herself. Lindsay Posner’s take on 1950s England delivers a sepia-tinged snapshot of social mores that have long since been discarded. But while life’s customs may have evolved and changed, the play’s underlying themes of passion and despair are timeless.

As the day unfolds we meet Hester’s landlady, neighbours, her husband and her lover, as the jigsaw pieces of her life are slowly revealed. Rattigan has a powerful and perceptive understanding of the human condition, with each of his characters carefully crafted as they impact onto the fraught and fragile Hester.

But more than just the sublime writing, the acting at the Theatre Royal Haymarket defines this production (a transfer in from the Theatre Royal Bath) as one of the finest dramas currently to be found on a London stage. Tamsin Greig is Hester, on stage throughout, in a performance that captures the complexities of her depression, self-loathing and desperate desire in the finest of detail. Never melodramatic, Greig delivers a masterclass in perfectly nuanced acting.

As her High Court judge husband Sir William and some years her senior, Nicholas Farrell turns in an equally assured performance of a complex love that still burns for his estranged wife, while Hadley Fraser’s Freddie, Hester’s younger lover, offers up a snapshot of a man battling his own demons.

The key supporting roles of Miller, a lapsed German doctor and Mrs Elton, the landlady of the house are perfectly and sensitively fleshed out by Finbar Lynch and Selina Cadell respectively, each contributing valuable colour to Rattigan’s harrowing palette. Peter McKintosh’s set is an understated masterpiece of 50’s austerity, perfectly lit by Paul Pyant.

Rattigan’s eye for English misery is unmatched, and under Posner’s direction and with Greig’s breathtaking performance, The Deep Blue Sea is unmissable theatre.

Runs until 21 June

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Here We Are - Review

National Theatre, London

***

Music & lyrics by Stephen Sondheim

Book by David Ives

Directed by Joe Mantello

The cast of Here We Are

It is a rare show indeed that combines a generous dose of magical creativity with the tedium of disappointing over-ambition, but so it is with Here We Are that’s recently arrived at the National Theatre from New York under the continued helming of Joe Mantello.

The musical, Stephen Sondheim’s final composition, is a nod to the movies of Luis Buñuel - well, two movies in particular, Exterminating Angel and The Discreet Charm Of The Bourgeoisie - with the show’s first act proving an incisively scorching satire on the shallow platitudes of the privileged middle-class, themed around a group of friends seeking, and serially failing, to find a restaurant for brunch.

Sondheim is at his best when he mocks society’s pretentious, pompous shallowness and the range of his melodies blended with the brutal wit of his lyrics are just sensational. By way of example, when one of the friends orders a coffee, the waiter, who we learn has no coffee nor indeed much else on the menu, parries the request with this sensational retort:

We do expect a little latte later,

But we haven’t got a lotta latte now.

The structure, rhyme and alliterate assonance of those lines is just brilliant. Every new writer of musicals should be made to study Sondheim to recognise the discipline and structure that goes in to crafting a good song. That the two leading musical roles (atop a starry cast) that drive the first-half’s wicked satire are played by the incomparable Tracie Bennett along with Denis O’Hare only adds to the outstanding entertainment on display.

But then it’s the interval and then it’s act two which sees the group of friends caught in the horror of being trapped under a spell from which they cannot escape. The most horrific consequence of this spell however is that it leads to the majority of the act being song-free, and when one considers that it is Sondheim's song writing sparkle that gives the show what zest it has, to deny the actors the oxygen of Sondheim's flair leads to a stifling of the show as it rapidly loses momentum, becoming a flaccid and boring interpretation of Buñuel’s brilliant original.

David Zinn’s ingenious set may well be stunning, equally Natasha Katz’s lighting, but neither are enough to rescue this flaccid hour-long dirge, with the second half proving to be little more than a self-indulgence by book-writer David Ives who, stripped of Sondheim's support, clearly lacks the creative nous to effectively translate an already brilliant movie into entertaining theatre. 

Producers take note : If this show were to be chopped at the interval it would make for a short, stunning tribute to the genius that was Stephen Sondheim.

Runs until 28th June

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

The Comedy About Spies - Review

Noel Coward Theatre, London

*****

Written by Henry Lewis and Henry Shields

Directed by Matt DiCarlo

The cast of The Comedy About Spies

The Comedy About Spies is the latest hilarious epic from the Mischief Theatre crew. Written by and featuring Mischief’s architects Henry Lewis and Henry Shields, the play sees a madcap plot unravel.

Think of the movies and a fusion of the action of James Bond and Die Hard combined with the comic craft of Airplane, and you begin to get close to the genius of this drama, where England in 1961 is the backdrop to espionage and skullduggery between the USA & the USSR over a Top Secret file.

The plot’s details are of course ridiculous (including an American agent accompanied on his mission by his overbearing mother!) and riddled with double-agents’ trickery but the narrative here is but a mere excuse to display some of the West End's finest comedy.

Slick tongue-twisting dialogue, outstanding punning, immaculately timed physical comedy and slapstick all merge to deliver an evening of first class farce from the cast of eight.

Not only that but David Farley’s set design is a work of art itself. Set in a hotel we see actors fall between floors in brilliantly designed, hilarious stunts, while a thrilling escape into the hotel’s lift-shaft has to be seen to be believed.

Directed by Matt DiCarlo, this is world-class theatre that is performed to the highest standards of discipline, yet which always appears to have its tongue firmly in its cheek - the hallmark of comedy done to perfection!

Runs until 5th September

Faygele - Review

Marylebone Theatre, London

***

Written by Shimmy Braun

Directed by Hannah Chissick

Ilan Galkoff and Andrew Paul

In an immaculately performed production Faygele tells the story of Ari Freed, a gay young Jewish man brought up in a strictly orthodox household and who was to take his own life as a consequence of his parents’ failure to embrace their son’s sexuality. In an evening that is occasionally moving, Shimmy Braun’s script can be perceptive while at other times coming across as shallow and two-dimensional.

Under Hannah Chissick’s assured direction Ilan Galkoff turns in an accomplished performance as Ari, at times speaking to us after death, at other times speaking in real life flashback. There is a measured energy to Galkoff’s work (including a seamless comment to an audience member to silence their mobile phone!) that impresses.

Ari is the story's most rounded character. Elsewhere, despite Braun’s sometimes flawed script, there is fine work from Ben Caplan as Ari’s monstrous father Dr Freed and in particular from Andrew Paul as the family’s rabbi. Clara Francis plays Ari’s mother in perhaps the most well constructed of all of Ari’s supporting characters.

Faygele speaks to a painful and complex subject that cries out for deeper consideration than Braun is able to offer. Mercifully the play’s one act, 90-minute duration keeps the evening short.

Runs until May 31st

Photo credit: Jane Hobson

Giant - Review

Harold Pinter Theatre, London

***

Written by Mark Rosenblatt

Directed by Nicholas Hytner

John Lithgow

.

Back in October 2024, when Giant premiered at the Royal Court, this website declared John Lithgow a likely Olivier contender for his world-class interpretation of Roald Dahl, in Mark Rosenblatt’s new play. And so it was that the Olivier award came to pass, together with numerous other gongs that have been bestowed upon this production. And while Giant's cast were impressive at the Court, they are equally impressive in the West End with all the key players remaining  other than Romola Garai who is stunningly replaced by Aya Cash in the role of Dahl’s American publisher, Jessie Stone.

While the production values remain exquisite and the acting world class and Rosenblatt’s words still pack a tightly constructed 2+ hours, the quality of the drama that he has created remains highly-debatable. As this website set out last year, Giant lacks a base objectivity. 

Rosenblatt (and Hytner?) rightly highlight Dahl’s vicious antisemitism and the evil of his appalling conflation of Israel’s actions as being the ultimate responsibility of the entire Jewish people. But for all that signalled virtue, there remains a failure to effectively posit or argue any explanation whatsoever (save for a brief passing nod by Stone in act one) for Israel’s military actions, with the play remaining an unbalanced soapbox for anti-Israel tropes. And from there it becomes all too easy for audiences to take the writer's evident Israel-sceptic stance and translate his comments, drawn from a 1982 conflict between Israel and Lebanon, onto a critique of today's current military action in Gaza.

Giant offers quite possibly the finest acting in town, matched only by a premise that is as deeply flawed.

Runs until 2nd August

Photo credit: Johan Persson

My Master Builder - Review

Wyndham's Theatre, London

***

Written by Laila Raicek

Directed by Michael Grandage

Elizabeth Debicki and Ewan McGregor

My Master Builder marks Lila Raicek’s impressive arrival on the West End. Ewan McGregor is Henry Solness the titular, eminent, architect, but just whose master builder he is, remains an enigma. It is clear from early on that his marriage to Elena (Kate Fleetwood) is in dire straits, while the arrival of Mathilde (Elizabeth Debicki) to the party that is marking the completion of Henry’s latest project, only adds a complex layer of shading to the narrative. 20 years his junior, Mathilde shared a romantic liaison with the architect a decade ago. The passions and grief that surround Raicek’s narrative are at times smouldering and at other times blistering. 

Debicki and Fleetwood are phenomenal - Fleetwood in particular with her lament in the second act as to the challenges facing women in life. McGregor convinces as a deeply flawed protagonist, but there are moments in his performance when his acting loses the required depth. This may no doubt be addressed as the play’s run settles in.

Similarly, and particularly in the first half, Raicek’s dialogue drifts into expositional cliche. For the most part however her writing thrills as it explores the agonies both of failed relationships and of bereavement. There is sound work too from David Ajala and Mirren Mack that serves to drive the story forward.

A play about an architect demands an appropriately ingenious staging, with designer Richard Kent duly delivering. That being said, Kent has created some massive set components that require hoisting up and down through the evening, with the Wyndham’s noisy winches proving an annoying distraction.

My Master Builder is clever and at times, deeply perceptive.

Runs until 12th July

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Titus Andronicus - Review

Swan Theatre, Stratford upon Avon

****

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Max Webster

Natey Jones takes a chainsaw to Simon Russell Beale's hand

It is a rare treat that sees a theatrical giant step up to the role of Titus Andronicus, Shakespeare's tragedy that boasts the Bard's highest body count. So it is that a one-handed Simon Russell Beale dons his chef’s apron to lead us through Max Webster’s modern take on the tale. Jet fighters roar overhead in the mise-en-scene suggesting that this is a turbulent Rome at war with the Goths and set is to become the arena for revenge -fuelled murder and mayhem.

Beale offers up one of the most sensitively nuanced takes on the noble general, delivering perfectly pitched pathos amidst the carnage, while also understanding the comedic themes that underscore the play. Late in the play, when his Titus greets Wendy Kweh’s Tamora masked up as the spirit of Revenge, Beale milks the moment exquisitely – we know the violence that is about to be unleashed and yet it is impossible not to grin at the charade being played out on stage. Beale equally imbues Titus’ tragic moments – notably manifest if his love for his grievously injured daughter Lavinia (Letty Thomas) – with a powerful emotional depth

Natey Jones’s Aaron is the production’s stand-out supporting performance. The energy in his evilness is palpable, with his Act 5 confessional monologue delivered as a hymn to barbarity. Jones inhabits the verse with a gripping excitement that makes for a rollercoaster ride of Shakespearean delight.

The evening’s other cracking performance is from Kweh who captures Tamora’s smouldering and insatiable sexuality with a fiercely brutal streak of the harshest cruelty. *SPOILER ALERT* In the final act, asTamora learns that the pasty that she is eating includes her sons' flesh, that Webster has her return for a second helping only underscores her fierce defiance.

There is exquisite pathos too from Letty Thomas whose Lavinia suffers the most unspeakable degradation.  For reasons not explained Titus’ brother Marcus Andronicus is gender-swapped to Marcia, played by Emma Fielding. In the scene in the woods that sees Lavinia discovered by her aunt uncle following her rape and mutilation, the scene's usual powerful tenderness seemed blunted in this iteration.   

There is a touch of Hollywood to Webster’s highly mechanised and stylised violence. Hooks descend from gantries and while the stabbings may all be suggested with murderer and victim often metres apart on stage, strobe lighting and gallons of stage-blood make for a gloriously horrific ambience. Matthew Herbert’s music that accompanies moments of carefully choreographed movement, adds to the evening’s compelling ghastliness. The blood flows so copiously in this production that the actors occasionally slip on the Swan’s sanguine soaked thrust. Audience members in the stalls’ front splash-zone seats are offered protective waterproofs, sparing them from soggy bottoms during the finale’s blood-soaked bake off.

A good Titus Andronicus should offer up an evening of entertaining violence that also draws out the story’s vicious misogyny and unspeakable cruelty. Simon Russell Beale serves up a mouth-watering performance.

Runs until 7th June

Photo credit: Max Brenner

The Ugly Stepsister - Review

****

Written and directed by Emilie Blichfeldt

105 mins - 2025

Certificate 18

Lea Myren gets her nose fixed in The Ugly Stepsister

The Ugly Stepsister is a charmingly horrific take on Cinderella, largely based on the premise that physical beauty equates to wealth. Beautifully acted, the movie is a Polish/Swedish/Norwegian collaboration that is set in a fairytale world of princes on horseback and castles in the snow.

Written and directed by Emilie Blichfeldt the film cleverly interweaves aspects of the classic story, contrasting the radiant beauty of Agnes, the story’s ultimate Cinderella with the uglier features of her stepsister Elvira, this fable’s key protagonist.  Blichfeldt portrays a bleak world however, where beauty is consistently shown to be a veneer that masks a moral vacuum, while the humble Elvira’s striving for physical perfection, whilst doomed, starts from a position of personal principle. Principles it is fair to say, that she sheds (together with her toes, well how else is a girl gonna fit into that glass slipper?) as the narrative unfolds.

Lea Myren scoops the honours as the uglier of the step-siblings, while the deliciously named Thea Sofie Loch Næss is Agnes. The men are mostly chauvinist pigs, with The Ugly Stepsister proving a fabulous fusion of romance, gore and unashamedly raunchy sex. And when a horror flick goes so far as to include In The Hall Of The Mountain King from Peer Gynt at the Prince’s Ball, what's not to love?

Classy, toe-curling entertainment.

On general release

Photo credit: Marcel Zyskind

Bob Dylan - Rough and Rowdy Ways - Review

Powers Auditorium, Youngstown

*****

Bob Dylan and his well-oiled machine are touring across the Midwest, sometimes playing a different city the next night nonstop with no breaks. An impressive feat for any band but with Dylan at nearly 84, it’s a feat that is more than noteworthy.

The performance was phoneless, which saw everyone have their phones locked away in pouches, which was fantastic although next time be sure to wear a watch if you’re planning on queuing for the bar and the start time is approaching. I bailed from the queue after the 10 min warning, to leave my plus-one with the vital task of bringing the refreshments. Luckily, she arrived just as the lights went down!

As the name of the tour suggests, without much pomp and ceremony, Bob and the band took to the stage and assumed their positions, standing ovations throughout as the crowd awaited the man they came to see. No introduction necessary, nor even an acknowledgement of the audience, (This is Dylan after all, and the tour is ‘Rough and Rowdy’. If you want cuddly acknowledgment from a legend, there’s always Taylor Swifts’s ‘Era’s Tour’)  just straight into it starting with his back to the audience as he and the band played ‘I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,’ playing guitar with the band to get started, and once warmed up, turning around to sing and play the piano.

Unsurprisingly, the show consisted mainly of songs from the Rough And Rowdy Ways album. I was expecting maybe to hear one or two at most of the old songs but was pleasantly surprised by the various inclusions, all stripped and rearranged to suit the theme of the show. At one point I turned to my plus-one saying “you know this one”. She looked blank, to which I added ‘It Ain’t Me Babe’. The song was barely recognisable both in arrangement and Bob’s delivery, but honestly I loved every minute of it! If you came expecting what was recorded all those decades ago, you’d be misguided in your hopes and simultaneously disappointed. In such a case, however, may I perhaps recommend a movie with Timothée Chalamet, or if that doesn’t suit, perhaps build a time machine! 

What one sees at this show is a legend performing on his own terms, with a group of talented musicians, playing a selection in their chosen style much in line with Dylan’s album. And if you came with any other expectations, then I guess that’s your problem. Upon reading other reviews of the tour, I noted that they predominantly fell into one of three categories:

1. Seasoned Dylan fans who know exactly what to expect and are happy to pay their money.

2. Non seasoned Dylan fans, both young and old that came with the mindset to experience the music and see a legend perform live.

3. The type of fan that would have just as well rocked up to a John Lennon Concert in the 70s expecting ‘mop tops’ and A Hard Day’s Night… To quote the man “I’ve grown up a bit since then, obviously you haven’t.”

I fall into category 2, a lifelong fan, simply grateful for the opportunity to see the legend while he’s living, and luckily for everyone, it seemed that over 90% of the Powers Auditorium fell into groups 1 or 2. When traveling up to the venue a thought occurred, and this was later confirmed during the performance: This wasn’t just a show. It was part musical performance and part exhibition, in that (given this was my first time seeing the man,) you were seeing a sort of mythical creature, in the flesh, performing in a theatre in the middle of Youngstown, Ohio.

Another one of the rearranged versions, and a personal highlight for me was that of ‘Desolation Row,’ less folksy acoustic, more stripped back and gritty & bluesy with a punchy rhythmic muted strumming, much like a locomotive driving the song along. I didn’t notice what the song was until a few lines into the first verse, such was the rearrangement but when I (and other audience members) clocked on, it sent shivers and got a roaring crowd response.

Another moment which the crowd responded with a rapturous appreciation and love, was when Bob pulled out the harmonica towards the end of the set during Every Grain Of Sand. It was a beautiful and special moment, even had a couple dancing in the outer aisle by the exit. A moving number that as it reached its conclusion and the band finished playing, saw Dylan step up to centre stage, in front of the piano briefly, to receive the standing ovation from the grateful crowd. 

He then stepped back to the back of the stage in a line with his band, momentarily under the orange glow of the purposely designed minimalistic set lights; before abruptly cutting the lights, to show a blue lighted outlined silhouette of the players with Dylan in the centre amidst a black backdrop for just a few seconds. Then blackout, and just like that it was over. The players exited the stage with the same lack of razzle-dazzle that marked their entrance. No pomp, ceremony, nor encore, yet plenty of fanfare as the crowd gave their applause.

As the well-oiled albeit rough and rowdy machine packed up after another night on the road, the evening for Dylan and his band will have been one of countless stops across America. But to the folks present, it was without question a special night of music from a legend.

Rough and rowdy? Of course (I mean at 83 what would you expect). A night and performance to remember? Most certainly! The tour is shortly to join Willie Nelson for the Outlaw Music Festival, where both legends will both be out on the road again… 

5 Stars*                

*Unless you were stupid/misguided enough to be expecting an 83-year-old to be a Timothée Chalamet-esque Bob from yesteryear, performing all the hits. In which case, you probably left disappointed. Don’t worry though, I’m sure Chalamet will be streaming soon.

Reviewed by Josh Kemp

Midnight Cowboy - Review

Southwark Playhouse, London

**

Music & lyrics by Francis'EG' White

Book by Bryony Lavery

Based on the book by James Leo Herlihy

Directed and choreographed by Nick Winston

Max Bowden and Paul Jacob French

James Leo Herlihy’s 1965 novel Midnight Cowboy presented a bleak take on America. A land of hustle and exploitation that saw an unlikely friendship develop between Texan cowboy Joe Buck and the polio-riddled New Yorker Rico Rizzo, both men desperately lonely souls and each in pursuit of their own American dream. Buck by making his fortune as a stud and Rizzo with his dreams of reaching the sunshine state of Florida. John Schlesinger directed the triple Oscar-winning movie in 1969 and now Herlihy's famed fable has been reduced to a musical by Bryony Lavery and Francis 'EG' White. 

Paul Jacob French as Joe Buck possesses the required statuesque attractiveness - but is not allowed to come close to exploring the complexities of his character. Max Bowden’s Rizzo is a more rounded construction. Bowden goes some way to unlocking the crippled man’s tragic destitution in a sensitive interpretation that is filled with pathos. Both leads are also given a solo chance at the same number. Bowden wraps up the first half with the haunting Don’t Give Up On Me Now, as French gets his chops around the song to close the show. The tune was worth a repeat as it proved the evening’s only decent new composition.

In a moment of prematurely tantalising delight the show's musical money-shot, Harry Nilsson's Grammy-winner Everybody's Talkin', taken from the movie, was sung by French as the evening's prologue, but from then on it was downhill. To be fair though, the show also included frequent nods to the movie's haunting motif of a melody that had been scored by John Barry - a welcome respite as it transpired, from much of White’s mediocre new music. As a side comment, although the legendary lyricist Don Black had nothing to do with Midnight Cowboy, to see him in the audience at this musical's press night forged a strong connection with Barry, a man with whom Black had penned numerous movie classics.

Lavery’s book does not match Herlihy’s original and when one considers how much of the Midnight Cowboy movie’s magic came not just from its harrowing tale and its towering central performances, but also from its stunning photography and direction, one realises the extent to which this production does not do justice to the story’s famed previous iterations. The narrative demands a physical staging more inspired than Andrew Exeter’s set - projections onto a translucent screen are an ambitious conceit at the best of times. Throw in a 45 degree viewing angle for this reviewer and the projected backdrops become a distraction, with their intended scenic depictions becoming nigh-on invisible.

Midnight Cowboy demands scenes of a sexual nature that should trouble us with their tawdry casualness. In this production the intimacy is clumsily faked and so is the story's class.

Runs until 17th May

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Manhunt - Review

Royal Court Theatre, London

****

Written and directed by Robert Icke

Samuel Edward-Cook

Written about Raoul Moat, infamous following the 2010 tragedy of violence that he wreaked on Tyneside, the mise-en-scene to Manhunt is the live projection from an above-stage video camera that broadcasts the bald-headed Moat pacing the confines of the stage much like a human snooker ball bouncing itself off the Royal Court’s walls. It's an apt metaphor for the evening that is to follow with Robert Icke’s debut script for the Court making a compelling narrative. Onstage throughout the play’s 90 minutes, Samuel Edward-Cook turns in an astonishing performance as the troubled murderer Moat, channelling energy and complexity into his work.

Rodgers & Hammerstein of course were here decades ago, when Carousel explored the suicidal mania of masculinity. Their Billy Bigelow however was only a fictional wannabe killer. Moat was to end real people's lives and devastate the lives of others, with Icke treading on morality’s very thinnest of ices as he seeks to consider if his protagonist was a man more sinn’d against than sinning.

Edward-Cook is superbly supported with the cast including Sally Messham as his (ex) girlfriend Sam and Trevor Fox offering up a banging take on Paul (Gazza) Gascoigne. Hildegard Bechtler’s set design, fusing practical props and effects with an ingenious use of video is outstanding.

That Sonia Friedman is co-producing suggests that shrewd folk see Manhunt following last year’s Giant into the West End. Manhunt’s production values are world class, but is the drama a well argued thesis, or has Icke simply assembled a harrowing barrage of exploitative exposition? Go see it for yourself and decide. Either way it’s a brilliant evening of theatre.

Runs until 3rd May

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Jab - Review

Park Theatre, London

**

Written by James McDermott

Directed by Scott Le Crass

Liam Tobin and Kacey Ainsworth

Returning to a London stage after its premiere last year, James McDermott’s Jab is a 75-minute, one-act, whistle-stop tour through the cliched motifs of the pandemic. McDermott harangues us with his blunt narrative in a piece that however domestically perceptive, is lazily written. Jab lurches from one two-minute scene to the next, following the journeys of Anne (Kacey Ainsworth), a frontline NHS worker and her stay-at-home husband of 29 years, Don (Liam Tobin). The evening is more of a bullet-pointed Powerpoint presentation on the pandemic, rather than a carefully constructed piece of literature. 

If there was more (any?) nuance to the play, it might have possibly delivered a more stimulating story. As it is, and even for such a short play, the drama drags and that’s notwithstanding the excellent performances from Ainsworth and Tobin.

Lacking all debate whatsoever around the moral, societal and pharmaceutical complexities thrown up by the Covid vaccines, particularly in the light of post-pandemic commentaries on the jabs, the play reaches a predictable conclusion that is little more than a melodramatic mess.

A disappointing script, albeit brilliantly acted.

Runs until 26th April

Photo credit: Steve Gregson

Witness - Review

JW3, London

****

Co-curated by Mina Kupfermann and Manick Govinda

Benzi Brofman's portrait of the Bibas Family

Mounted at JW3 in London, Witness showcases the work of three Jewish artists, exploring their experience of antisemitism. To view the work on display is humbling, a truly bittersweet display of visual art across a range of media.

Co-curator Mina Kupfermann brings a tragically ethereal style to her imagery that is at best unnaturalistic. Her work suggests a fragile beauty, particularly of those poor souls who were murdered at the Nova Festival in Israel on October 7th 2023. Kupfermann’s work demands our engagement to decipher her message – indeed, the evening’s titular piece Witness is a towering montage of antisemitic bile, so massive that binoculars are on offer to study the work’s loftier inclusions - and when one’s grief is already strong, viewing her creations is, at times, challenging.

Maya Amrami offers a fusion of textiles and AI-driven technology in her work, drawn from her experience as an Israeli Londoner, and the antisemitic contempt and abuse that was hurled at her in the aftermath of October 7th. Hers is a powerful message, delivered in a most disconcerting style, that works as a transference of the pain that she has suffered, into the mind of the person viewing her work.

The exhibitions’s most powerful display however is the work of Benzi Brofman, an Israeli street artist. By a stroke of luck Brofman was spared the horrors of the massacre at the Nova Festival, having needed to have left the Gaza envelope shortly before October 7th. Channelling the energy of his survival, Brofman has made it his mission to create portraits of those murdered and taken hostage on that terrible day. With a tragically beautiful and breathtaking mastery of the airbrush, Brofman’s portraits demand that we look that day’s victims in the eye. His attention to detail is acute and when one, for example, stares at his portrait of the Bibas family, the effect is profoundly moving. It should be recorded that Brofman's original works are now mostly in the possession of the respective subjects' families. On display at JW3 are immaculately created prints of his work that touch our very souls.

While the artwork on display ranges from impressive to outstanding, there is a cloud overshadowing the exhibition. The event was commissioned by the London Centre For The Study of Contemporary Antisemitism (LCSCA) and it was a recent decision by the LCSCA to withdraw from the International Conference on Combating Antisemitism convened by the Israeli Diaspora Ministry that is a deep disappointment. Professor David Hirsh, the LCSCA CEO, in objecting to the presence of a number of invitees to the Israeli event stated: “We must embrace democratic politics that is open to all, and not one that, like antisemitism itself, consigns people arbitrarily and irretrievably to the enemy camp.

I respect the legitimacy of the Israeli Government, but as a scholar my job is to speak clearly when I judge that the wrong path is being considered. I hope that Global Forums in the future will return to the practice of bringing together diverse viewpoints and approaches in serious, evidence-based and rational debate.”

In refusing to engage with those with whom he disagrees and by not attending a democratic conference that is “open to all” Hirsh’s words become a virtue-signalling self-contradiction. As I wrote on 28th March 2025 on this same subject, even Shylock was prepared to talk to his sworn enemy. Hirsh et al should do the same.

Witness is at JW3 until 2nd April

Alfred Hitchcock presents The Musical - Review

Theatre Royal, Bath

****

Original score by Steven Lutvak

Book by Jay Dyer

Directed by John Doyle

Sally Ann Triplett

A fabulous fusion of parody and style that is immaculately performed, Alfred Hitchcock presents – The Musical celebrates one of the greatest television series of the 1950s, arguably one of the foundation stones of television history, in a multi-faceted musical tribute.

Mounted on an open stage, (design credits shared between the production's accomplished director John Doyle and David L. Arsenault) with one vintage TV camera and a boom mic to set the scene accompanied by six suspended brute film lights, the monochrome colour scheme of costume and props fixes the show’s era and all viewed through the borders of a television screen mounted around the edges of the Theatre Royal’s proscenium arch. Amidst this melee of ‘50s iconography a star-studded cast of 14 play out a handful of B-movie crime stories in the style of Hitchcock’s series’ 30-minute episodes. The stories intermingle like a patchwork quilt – cheating spouses and laconic beat-cops a recurring theme, mixed in with murder and blackmail and all sung exquisitely (albeit annoyingly, with no list of musical numbers included in the programme). The opening routine pays homage to the familiar motif of the TV series’ theme tune, while the songs themselves include some deliciously complicated harmonies. This is the America of Betty Crocker, ice-cold glasses of poisoned lemonade, and Chevrolets with front seats so wide they go on forever.

Sally Ann Triplett, Nicola Hughes, Scarlett Strallen and Damien Humbley get the lion’s share of the narratives – but there are juicy solos for all throughout an evening that showcases the country’s finest musical theatre talent.

The stories’ punchlines come with twists that feel like a cascade of Roy Lichtenstein cartoons. A familiarity with 50’s flair, albeit non-essential, will aid an appreciation of the show. For novices to the genre, just sit back and enjoy some of the most imaginative new writing around. 

A gloriously niche pastiche.

Runs until 12th April

Photo credit Manuel Harlan