27 - Review

Cockpit Theatre, London

**

Music, book and lyrics by Sam Cassidy

Music by Matt Wills

Co-directed by Arlene Phillips and Sam Cassidy

Cassie Compton

The premise behind 27 is both noble and tragic. Kurt Cobain, Amy Winehouse, Jim Morrison and Janis Joplin all died at that age and Sam Cassidy's musical seeks to explore some possible greater satanic force that robs the world of gifted talent at such a tender age.

It's a brave and ambitious venture from Cassidy and his co-tunesmith Matt Wills and of course the sheer hard work in writing a new musical is to be saluted. But whilst their show is glitzy, containing some stunning performance, dance and movement, the narrative for the most part is execrable and arguably, exploitative. When even the show's own programme spells Joplin's first name as Janice, the fates don't augur well.

The plot follows a fictitious rock star, stage named Orpheus who is the lead singer of his band The Argonauts. Notwithstanding some insultingly unsubtle hints that connect the story to Greek and other mythologies (act one could almost be re-named Orpheus On The Underground), we are invited to follow a Faustian pact that Orpheus signs with the Devil. He is granted world fame but it comes at the cost of uncontrollable substance abuse. 

A show that could potentially have been a beautifully heartbreaking study into untimely death, in fact becomes a hybrid of Christopher Marlowe's Dr Faustus and Disney's Hercules but with less memorable songs. Oh, and there's just a twist of The Exorcist sprinkled over act two for good measure.

To be fair there's a moving epilogue that tantalisingly hints at the emotional depths that could have been plumbed - but for the most part 27 doesn't so much mark the loss of 4 rock legends as dance upon their graves in which they are quite possibly spinning.

There are some good bits. Greg Oliver battles with his ridiculously clichéd role, turning in a convincing and harrowing performance as the drug-addicted Orpheus. Ryan Molloy steals every scene as the Hades/Devil character, with an unbridled energy and that sensational voice. Cassie Compton who also only knows excellence shines as Amy, Orpheus' true love, whilst understudy on the night Erin Bell was fabulous in the Mephistophelean role of infernal temptress Ms. M. There's also eye-candy for all, with an ensemble clad for the most part in lashings of lingerie or spray-on leather. Brava Lucy Alexander for the stylish costume design.

The dance work choreographed by Ryan-Lee Seager and Lucy Martin is sensational and imaginative, perhaps to be expected with Arlene Phillips co-directing alongside Cassidy. Notwithstanding the story's flaws, the routines complement its outrageousness perfectly being cleverly conceived and meticulously rehearsed as Matt Nalton’s band produce a rock infused beat throughout. 

The gifted Jodie Jacobs plays one of The Fates and that at times her voice was inaudible does not speak well of the show's sound design. Likewise the lavish lighting and set design (someone has invested a fortune in 27) failed to pick out the three Fates high above the action. Smoke and fancy spotlights, (hell, this Hell even has hydraulics) are all well and good, but when key characters can neither be seen nor heard, money's been wasted.

27 doesn't need work, so much as a total re-write. There may well be a beautiful show crying out to be written here, but this ain't it.

Runs to 22nd October

Photo credit: Nick Ross

The Prodigals

Belgrade Theatre, Coventry

***

Written by Ray Goudie and Joe Harmston

Directed by Joe Harmston

Greg Oliver

The Prodigals is that curious piece of musical theatre that whilst often provoking disbelief, still packs a significant punch.

The show’s graphic motif is a poppy and it is aspects of that powerful flower that form the focus of the musical’s message. The poppy is the symbol of British military sacrifice and remembrance; it is the cash crop for the Afghan farmers that British forces are often tasked to destroy; and most pointedly it is also the source of the opium that has claimed and ruined so many lives.

The parable of the prodigal son is the premise that underlies the show. Simon Bowman is the proud regimental Colonel Gibson, the father of two sons. Mike has dutifully followed his father, taking up a commission in the army, whilst Kyle's passion lies in music. As the rock star’s fame grows, so too does his dependency on heroin and a tragic but muddled act one sees him fall from grace after supplying a fatal dose of heroin to Kelly his childhood friend and singing partner. Act two sees the show gather pace and the unconditional love that Bowman showers upon his wastrel offspring provides a (rare) moment of powerful poignancy.

Bowman’s measured grief, anguish and torment is a performance of depth and sensitivity that often outweighs the material he is given to work with. His dialog whilst impassioned, too often lacks credibility and there is a sense here of a magnificent talent squandered. Sam Ferriday's Mike is a lacklustre performance, also not helped by a script and lyrics that are just too trite.

The redemption of this work however lies with the youthful and bogglingly talented Greg Oliver as troubled musician Kyle. His journey into addiction is vivid, upsetting and above all, believable. We wince at his pain and in an inspired move by the show’s creators, the effects of a heroin fix are brilliantly realised by three mocking airline stewardesses, fantasy illusions brought on by the drug, who are as chilling as they are superficially comic. Oliver brings power, passion and an incredible athleticism to his role and whenever his dialog even hints at becoming cheesy, he redeems the moment with an astonishing depth of performance. To be fair, his performance is complemented by Sarah Watson's Kelly, evoking tragedy and pathos without once straying into mawkish sentimentality. Beautiful voice too! 

A shout-out is earned by Ben Cracknell whose as ever clever lighting suggests poppy fields, prison cells, Chinook helicopters and rock concerts.

The show clearly speaks to its youthful audience, who impressively rose to salute the cast at the finale. Where Trainspotting was a movie that spoke of a drug-damaged generation, so too does The Prodigals offer an unsentimental look at the tragic consequences of heroin abuse. It deserves a future but demands major re-working.


Runs until 14th September