Hello, Dolly! - Review

London Palladium, London

****

Book by Michael Stewart
Music & lyrics by Jerry Herman
Directed by Dominic Cooke

Imelda Staunton

Several years in the making, but at last Imelda Staunton's Dolly Levi in Hello, Dolly! arrives at the London Palladium.

This is a musical that appears full of fun, froth and fancy restaurants but at its heart is all about the very essence of the human condition. Dominic Cooke coaxes a gorgeous interpretation of Levi’s strengths and vulnerabilities from Dame Imelda who perhaps is at her most vocally magnificent in the act two tear-jerker Look, Love In My Window. Of course Staunton powers her way through the massive numbers of  Before The Parade Passes By and the title number itself, but it is in capturing  Dolly’s fragility that the actor is at her finest.

Andy Nyman is Horace Vandergelder and Jenna Russell, Irene Molloy, both of them making fine work of supporting Staunton. Equally Tyrone Huntley and Harry Hepple as Vandergelder’s hapless employees are a comedy delight.

Bill Deamer’s choreography is a treat as he makes fine visual use of the 36-strong company luxuriously filling the Palladium’s massive stage. In the pit, Nicholas Skilbeck’s lavishly appointed 22-piece orchestra deliver a gorgeous interpretation of Jerry Herman’s timeless score.

But for a show that is steeped in the very essence of New York from Yonkers to 14th Street NYC, if there is a flaw in the evening it is that we are not transported convincingly to the Big Apple. Finn Ross’s scrolling projections - often found to be brilliant enhancements to a show - are over-deployed here, losing much of their transformative impact.

Hello, Dolly! does not come around that often to a major London stage, least of all with a Dolly of Staunton's calibre and this run itself is tantalisingly short with barely a two month residency in the West End. But the show's song and dance credentials, delivering one of Broadway's all-time greats, are impeccable. A fabulous night of musical comedy.

Runs until September 14th

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

42nd Street - Review

Sadler's Wells Theatre, London

*****

Music by Harry Warren

Lyrics by Al Dubin

Book by Michael Stewart and Mark Bramble

Directed by Jonathan Church

Nicole-Lily Baisden and the company of 42nd Street

Arriving at Sadler’s Wells for a month’s residency, Jonathan Church’s touring production of 42nd Street is an immaculately delivered five-star delight.

The fabled story of chorus girl Peggy Sawyer who gets her lucky break in a Broadway show when leading lady Dorothy Brock sustains an equally unlucky break to her ankle, is as old as the hills and as corny too. For such a yarn to suspend the disbelief of a hackneyed modern audience demands perfection from its performers - and Church, with choreographer Bill Deamer does just that, coaxing magical voice and footwork from across his company.

Nicole-Lily Baisden is Peggy. Outstanding in the recent Barbican-based Anything Goes, Baisden’s star now shines even more brilliantly. She captures Peggy’s initial frail vulnerability, and with a combination of her beautiful singing and mesmerising tap-dance skill, takes the audience with her on her fairy-tale journey.

Adam Garcia headlines as Julian Marsh, the demanding director of Pretty Lady, 42nd Street’s ‘show within a show’. Garcia’s musical theatre credentials are impeccable and he is compelling in both song and dance. As the villain of the piece (albeit with an ultimate heart of gold) Ruthie Henshall is similarly outstanding as Dorothy Brock with Henshall's singing, notably in I Only Have Eyes For You, proving a spine-tingling treat.

The shows comedy lines demand assured timing and confidence in their delivery. Les Dennis leads the line of featured performers carrying this responsibility and although Dennis’ remarkable background in stand-up and TV comedy gives him a raft of experience, he is a magnificent trouper who never overshadows Anthony Ofoegbu and Josefina Gabrielle in their contributions to the show’s gag content. Gabrielle also delivers moments of sung perfection in her role.

This is a production designed for the road with Robert Jones’ sets and Jon Driscoll’s projections providing a fine backdrop to the evening. If there is one small flaw it is that the ensemble is smaller than the script demands - but if the producers have understandably had to cut back on quantity, they score full marks for their show’s quality. The show’s music however sounds as if no expense has been spared with Jennifer Whyte’s 14-piece band making glorious work of Harry Warren’s classic melodies.

Shuffle off to Sadler’s Wells or catch the show touring until the Autumn. Either way, this take on 42nd Street makes for a fabulous night at the theatre.

Runs until 2nd July and then on tour

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Follies - Review

National Theatre, London



*****


Music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Book by James Goldman
Directed by Dominic Cooke

Follies

Eighteen months on and with a couple of well placed casting changes Stephen Sondheim’s Follies returns to the National Theatre with the excellence of this devastating musical a breath of fresh air amidst a slew of disappointing recent openings in the capital. What sets Follies apart from so many other current shows is the meticulous detail that Sondheim weaves into his lyrics and melodies. There is an almost Shakespearean genius to the man, such is his ability to pare the essence of love, lovelessness and the human condition down to the barest, bleakest of bones.

Of Follies’ two leading ladies Janie Dee reprises Phyllis, as Joanna Riding takes over as Sally for this revival. Dee has had time to both sharpen Phyllis’ talons and harden her carapace, her every nuance carefully honed by Cooke’s perceptive direction. Dee’s delivery of Sondheim’s words wield a merciless scalpel into the failures of husband Ben. Phyllis’ big solo Could I Leave You? Proving almost bloody in its brutal dissection of her marriage. Dee savours the wit that Sondheim has bestowed upon her character. Acting through song does not get better than this.

Alexander Hanson, Janie Dee and Christine Tucker

Follies was already a five star show back in 2017. With Riding onboard however and with the elegant fragility that she brings to Sally, a level of credible characterisation that was missing on this production’s first outing, the whole piece is lifted to a higher plane. Sally is one of the toughest gigs in the canon, a faded beauty decayed into a desperate housewife, glamorously bewigged and yet ultimately a woman who on the inside, is crumbing as much as the derelict theatre around her. Serving up pathos without a hint of maudlin sentimentality Riding's heartbreaking rendition of In Buddy’s Eyes is a lament to a love that has long since dwindled - while the mental devastation of Losing My Mind scorches in its revelation of her pain. And as she rips the wig from her head during that song’s closing bars, we gasp at the brute ugliness of her depression.

Ian McIntosh, Joanna Riding and Gemma Sutton

Peter Forbes’ Buddy Plummer has grown too. There is a sleazy mania to his performance that is as abhorrent as it is compelling, especially in his Willy Loman-esque take on The Right Girl.  Alexander Hanson’s Ben offers up a brief glance into the rise and, more pronouncedly, the fall of an oleaginous statesman. Hanson performs well, but there is a tad more bedding into the role that is needed to fully convince.

The show’s supporting roles are all individual treats. Tracie Bennett, ‘still here’ from 2017 as Carlotta, remains perhaps the most diminutive of powerhouse voices to be found in the West End. Oozing classy, sassy cynicism Bennett comes close to stopping the show. She is matched though by her colleagues. Claire Moore is every inch, the most believable Broadway Baby; Felicity Lott and Alison Langer enchant with One More Kiss; Dawn Hope leads the most phenomenal tap line (and credit here to Bill Deamer’s immaculately conceived and drilled choreography throughout) in Who’s That Woman - and a further nod to Bennett who, in a display of sheer bloody stamina segues seamlessly from that number into the demands of I’m Still Here. 

Dawn Hope leads the line

The ghost quartet of the leading roles are marvellous with the ever-excellent Gemma Sutton, together with Christine Tucker, Ian McIntosh and Harry Hepple all offering the necessary passion, scorn and incredulity to make their ghost roles take flight.

It is not just Follies’ writing, but also the National’s lavish production values that define this show as a gem. Vicki Mortimer’s designs deftly blend the decay of the Weismann Theatre into the glamour of the ghosted numbers, with the subtle magnificence of the Olivier’s drum revolve taking the show through both the battered Broadway building as well as the decades, almost imperceptibly. Nigel Lilley's 20-piece orchestra is a soaring delight throughout.

A musical can be judged on narrative, music, song and dance, with Follies scoring top marks across the board. This revival offers an unmissable glimpse into the heaven and hell of humanity.

Runs until 11th May

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Follies - Review

National Theatre, London

*****

Music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim

Book by James Goldman

Directed by Dominic Cooke

It’s been a while since the National Theatre last revived a great song and dance extravaganza and a Sondheim one at that. But with Dominic Cooke’s production of Follies the NT’s reputation as one of the nation’s finest creators of musical theatre is restored.

Goldman’s book and Sondheims’s songs build a boulevard of broken dreams and flawed humanity that is as harrowing as it is magnificent. The show’s premise is simple: amidst the rubble of Dimitri Weismann’s once grand Broadway stage, the ageing impresario has invited back the stars of his Follies show from some 30 years ago, for one last hurrah before the building is demolished. As the evening unwinds and the champagne flows old loves, desires and the most excruciating of betrayals are re-kindled and confronted.

The show is first and foremost an ensemble piece - there are at least four stories being told here - but it’s the galaxy of stars that Cooke has assembled, that make this Follies such finely crafted theatre. Sally and husband Buddy (Imelda Staunton and Peter Forbes) re-connect with Phyllis and Ben (Janie Dee and Philip Quast) re-igniting friendships and rivalries that have lain dormant for decades. Storytellers however don’t come any finer than Sondheim and Goldman, with the narrative playing out through an exquisitely mirrored time bend that sees the young, pre-married quartet of lovers simultaneously portrayed by a younger foursome of actors. The National have not only skimmed the cream of British musical theatre in casting the 4 senior roles, their ghostly younger personae are also drawn from the nation’s finest, with Alex Young, Zizi Strallen, Fred Haig and Adam Rhys-Charles weaving the story in and out of the years.

Life has dealt both Sally and Phyllis more misery than they may have deserved, but it is the two women’s responses to their empty marriages and duplicitous husbands that drives the bittersweet essence of this show. Staunton’s Sally is literally crumpled as Buddy’s work flies him around the country in perpetual infidelity. Dee’s Phyllis however is a far more sassy character who’s grown an emotional carapace over the years, enabling her to tolerate Ben’s eminent statesman, yet continually philandering, lifestyle - a man who craves money and recognition above all else and with a vacuum for a soul.

Both marriages seethe with frustration and resentment and yet the show’s dissection of the most complex of loves reveals, in its finale, the couples’ ultimate co-dependency. Rarely is a musical so brutally perceptive and so beautifully performed.

The production’s songs are famous and in this outing, flawlessly sung. Tracie Bennett’s Carlotta delivers an I’m Still Here that comes close to stopping the show. Likewise Di Botcher’s Broadway Baby brilliantly captures a song that defines showbusiness. Stunning too is the soprano duet of One More Kiss, hauntingly handled by Dame Josephine Barstow and Alison Langer.

The four leads have the lion’s share of the numbers. Quast is immaculate throughout, singing a powerful take on The Road You Didn't Take. Could I Leave You from Dee defines her mastery of Sondheim’s inflicted irony, while Forbes’ Buddy’s Blues is a jazz-hands analysis of a man in a tailspin. Staunton is tasked with arguably the show’s biggest challenge and one of the finest 11 o’clock numbers ever in Losing My Mind. Rising to the challenge, she makes the song soar in a tragically understated display of pitch perfect poignancy.

Staunton, Dee and Quast have all amassed a fine pedigree of musical theatre work at the National - and for some of us in the audience, there is an added piquancy of seeing Staunton’s magnificent Sally today, yet also recalling her on the same stage as a Hot Box Girl in Richard Eyre’s 1982 production of Guys and Dolls, a show that boldly launched the National as a musical production house of the finest calibre.

That calibre permeates the show. Bill Deamer’s choreography delivers fabulous footwork from across the wide range of ages (and disciplines) of his gifted company. Upstage, Nigel Lilley deftly directs his 21 piece orchestra to deliciously deliver Sondheim’s classic melodies.

Vicki Mortimer’s designs effectively create the crumbling Weismann theatre, making ample use (overuse?) use of the Olivier’s massive revolve. The show's costumes are a similar treat, well cut to the eras in question and enhanced with some outstanding millinery from Sean Barrett.

Like Weismann’s eponymous show, it’s taken 30 years for London to witness the return of a full scale Follies. The National have a fine history of releasing cast recordings of their major musical productions - let's hope that this show too is recorded for posterity. Follies is as beautiful as it is eviscerating - a masterclass in musical theatre.

Booking until 3rd January 2018. Follies will also screen via NT Live at cinemas nationwide on 16th November 2017

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Miss Atomic Bomb - Review

St James Theatre, London

***

Written by Adam Long, Gabriel Vick and Alex Jackson-Long
Co directed by Bill Deamer and Adam Long

Olivia Fines with Stephane Anelli

Miss Atomic Bomb blasts onto the St James stage with a visually impressive bang. In a show that's a chain reaction of spectacular dance work (including some delicious tap routines), choreographer Bill Deamer's fingerprints (or rather footprints) are everywhere. Deamer, who also co-directs, has a consummate understanding of the spectacular and the dancing here is amongst the best in town. 

The show demands a heavily stylised treatment, set in and around Las Vegas in the 1950s against the backdrop of the Cold War and in a time when atomic bomb tests in the region were not only frequent, they were a source of national pride. Thousands flocked to Vegas to witness the mushroom clouds from only a few miles away, ignorantly unaware of the fallout risk. Seeking to draw the crowds, the musical’s story focusses upon the Golden Goose Hotel that comes up with the idea of a Miss Atomic Bomb beauty contest as an attraction and so it unfolds.

As a historic reference point the show offers some value. There are nods to the fervent patriotism of the time, the all-powerful military, the nation's underlying ignorance, along with a McCarthyist response to the fear of Communism and Un-American activities. But whilst the show's style, for the most part, is as cleverly clichéd as a Lichtenstein cartoon, its book struggles. The plot lines are far-fetched and its endgame is just garbled. Which is a shame - because the talent on stage here is well cast and sensational.

Simon Lipkin is on top form as Lou Lubowitz the hotel manager. Lipkin only knows excellent and his neurotic/opportunistic pastiche is spot on with voice, dance and movement a delight throughout. Likewise Catherine Tate as Myrna a curious Greek fashion designer with an attitude. Tate does dumb America brilliantly - though having shone in Assassins last year (as did Lipkin), the show’s muddled book doesn't help either character.

Dean-John Wilson and Florence Andrews pick up the two other leads as Joey (Lou’s brother), a deserting soldier and Candy Johnson, a farm girl, respectively. Both are flawless and one can eagerly look forward to WIlson's Aladdin later this year. He pulls off the curious burden of pretending to be a rabbi for most of the second half, though his reflective duet with Lipkin, I’ll Stay With You offers the best of a mediocre bunch of ballads. Andrew’s character maybe trailer trash, but her feisty cowgirl commands the stage.

There's a curious cameo from Daniel Boys as a Javert-inspired repo-man out to take back Candy’s trailer. Boy can Boys sing, but as his role descends into little more than a Les Mis meta-dig it all gets just a bit too silly. Come the contest itself, Olivia Fines' Monroe-esque Sharon is a dancing celebration of the Stars and Stripes whilst Jessica Buckby's Norwegian (don't ask) Tregunta also wows with her movement.

This ain't the RSC's Oppenheimer - which last year stunned the theatre world with its fusion of nuclear horror and artistic genius, nor do the writers have the surgical skills of Kander and Ebb in dissecting some of humanity's ghastlier aspects and re-arranging them into a musical. There's work to be done here - the first half is too long, the second too crude (an election/erection gag? Really??) and the classy projected backdrops irritatingly melt under the brilliant beams of the follow spots. 

However, at the core of Miss Atomic Bomb is potentially something rather fine. Go see it for its top-notch company, Ti Green's wicked costumes, Richard Mawbey's fabulous wigs and above all Deamer's dazzling dance. It's a fun night out.

Runs until 9th April

Photo credit: Tristram Kenton

Cats - Review

London Palladium, London

*****

Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber

Based on 'Old Possum's Book Of Practical Cats by T.S.Eliot

Directed by Trevor Nunn

Kerry Ellis

Back in 1981 Cats re-wrote the rule book of musical theatre. Not just for being the first show immediately recognisable by an image that was to become an iconic brand (those flaming cats eyes with their dancers for pupils - shrewd work, producer Cameron Mackintosh), but for being one of the first through-danced musicals, a concept never before tackled in England. Cats' plot (if there is one) is implausible. Rather, it took the genius vision of a young Lloyd Webber to set this quirky anthology of Eliot verse to music. The rest is theatre history as the show went on to smash box-office records on both sides of the Atlantic.

That Cats in 2015 works at all is down to the show's (now pensioner) creatives and an exceptional cast. Disbelief is quickly suspended and in a production that eschews masks and puppets, the feline transformation is achieved solely through the human skills of the companys' voices, movement and facial expression. At all times the audience can see that these are just people, albeit gloriously costumed and made up, but people nonetheless who with catlike tread and stunning choreography achieve a fabulous illusion. 

Eliot's words are marvellously crafted. They truly don't write 'em like that anymore and his 1930's gems are just steeped in Bloomsbury and a time when trains had First and Third Class carriages, a magical glimpse into an England past. No other writer other than perhaps Matilda's Tim Minchin displays the maverick and eccentric yet profoundly perceptive wit that Eliot masters. Andrew Lloyd Webber's score, played under the experienced baton of Anthony Gabriele and ranging from the haunting minor key harmonics of the Jellicles’ motif, through to the torch-song triumph that is Memory, has evolved into a modern classic.

Legendary choreographer Gillian Lynne neatly re-works her original routines to accommodate the Palladium’s traditional proscenium setting, with modern day dance maestro Bill Deamer adding his talent to staging the coolly jazz-themed Gumbie Cat tap number. John Napier's design has similarly been tailored yet still remains a fairytale setting (beautifully lit) of over-sized trash. (The eagle eyed in the audience will spot that the bashed up car’s number plate has been updated to NAP 70, Napier’s age when the show re-opened last year.)

But Cats, then and forever, has always been about the actors. As well as some fresh young talent, many feline-hardened veterans from the show’s various former and touring productions have been press ganged into service at the Palladium. Excellence is everywhere, but particularly memorable amongst the cattery are Benjamin Yates’ Mungojerrie, who delivers impossible athleticism with an almost Russell Brand styled insouciance whilst Joseph Poulton’s Mistoffeles and Ross Finnie’s Skimbleshanks are both visual delights. (That junk-yard train gets me every time.) A nod too to Callum Train’s Munkustrap who virtually MC’s the show with a breathtaking agility and of course few West End musicals are complete these days without a Strallen. Zizi’s Demeter duly and demurely delivers.

It is however Kerry Ellis’ name that tops the bill at the London Palladium and with good reason. Her poise as faded galmour-puss Grizabella is as poignant as it is perfect. Where the rest of the cast are shod in dance shoes Ellis, fur all mangy, is forced to totter around the stage in impossibly tawdry heels, defining Grizabella's tragedy in poise and presence. And then she sings.

On its own, Memory is one of Lloyd Webber’s biggest selling singles and much like Grizabella herself, it’s a tart of a song that everyone over the last thirty years as had a piece of. The audience knows it, loves it and their expectations as Ellis, along with Natasha Mould’s Jemima tackles the opening bars, are sky high. Ellis doesn’t just meet those expectations however – she smashes them. And as her Grizabella desperately pleads for affection with the shockingly simple words “Touch me”, this queen of London’s musical theatre quite simply takes the Palladium’s roof off. The moment is electrifying and unforgettable. It has been far too long since the West End was last treated to an 11 o’clock number of such jaw-dropping magnificence.

There is no more to add. As world class musical theatre Cats, with Kerry Ellis, is un-missable.

Now booking until 25th April 2015