Pippin - Review

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London

****

Music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz

Book by Roger O. Hirson

Directed by Jonathan O'Boyle

Patricia Hodge

In what was quite possibly the finest vocal interpretation of this show to be heard on this side of the Atlantic, Stephen Schwartz’s Pippin played to a packed Theatre Royal Drury Lane for two nights only.

Written in the 1970s as part-allegory against the Vietnam War, Pippin is a curious work that was never to achieve commercial success in the West End. Unquestionably a show of two-halves, act one is a magnificent pastiche of the medieval court of Charlemagne with grand romance, intrigue and glamour and some of Schwartz’s finest compositions. The second half in contrast tails off into a quirky domestic love story that lacks voltage and excitement. One can understand how, outside musical theatre enthusiasts, the show has failed to gain traction in front of large-scale British audiences.

All that being said, the cast that Jonathan O’Boyle has assembled for this concert production were sensational. Jac Yarrow stepped up to the title role and from his sublime handling of Corner Of The Sky early in the show, his credentials were defined. Alex Newell is flown in from the USA to take on the challenging role of Leading Player. Newell brings charisma and strength to a part that demands pinpoint timing alongside strong vocal presence and delivers magnificently. Zizi Strallen plays Fastrada, Pippin’s scheming stepmother. Strallen only knows world-class performance values and her balletic take on the evil queen is sensational. She also knocks her big solo, Spread A Little Sunshine straight out of the park.

The evening’s biggest delight however is in Patricia Hodge’s take on Berthe, Pippin’s elderly grandmother. Her number No Time At All is perhaps the most glorious celebration of life to be found in the entire musical theatre canon. Hodge delivers the song and its singalong chorus to note-perfect precision, with a power that belies her years. Lucie Jones is given the spotlight after the interval as Catherine, Pippin’s love interest. Jones of course is flawless in her singing but she’s battling against a storyline that defies credibility.

The production’s choreography was ambitious in its Fosse-tribute intentions - but while the dancers’ talents were unquestioned, they needed far more rehearsal time to pull off Fosse, well. 

Never say never, but it is unlikely that Pippin will ever sound as good in London as what O’Boyle has achieved at Drury Lane this week. A neat touch saw a 50-strong choir of ArtsEd’s finest adding impressive vocal heft throughout the evening. Equally Chris Ma’s directing of the London Musical Theatre Orchestra was spot-on throughout.

Pippin’s 50th anniversary concert production was a memorable musical theatre treat.

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Rock Follies - Review

Minerva Theatre, Chichester

****

Songs by Howard Schuman and Andy Mackay

Based on the television series written by Howard Schuman

Book by Chloë Moss

Zizi Strallen, Angela Marie Hurst and Carly Bawden

Chichester is fast becoming the rock capital of West Sussex, First with Assassins and now with Rock Follies, yet another show is getting its audience into the vibe with a mise-en-scene backing track of pre-show rock classics. 

Howard Schuman and Andy Mackay’s Rock Follies is drawn from Schuman’s 1976 TV series of the same name. In its day the Thames TV production was groundbreaking following an all-girl band, the Little Ladies, from its creation through to the intoxicating highs and the devastating lows of the music business. The stories pulled no punches in displaying the sexist misogyny of the era alongside the sheer ruthless commercialism of pop and rock. The drama was compelling and today, framed around Chloë Moss’ book, Rock Follies makes for a night of theatre containing some blistering performances.

Zizi Strallen, Carly Bawden and Angela Marie Hurst are Q, Anna and Dee the three performers flung together by fate and whose fictional fusion created a band that was ahead of its time, predating and by some years the real life Bananarama and the Spice Girls. All three women are sensational in their roles – and while some of Schuman and Mackay’s lyrics may stray into banality, their melodies are stunning. And when delivered by these three leading ladies, lead to performances that take the roof of the Minerva.

It is re-assuring to see Dominic Cooke’s perceptive flair, recently missed, return to his directing. Carrie-Anne Ingrouille’s choreography, honed on Six's female cast, is found to be just as exciting with half the number of leads!

Rock Follies was brilliant in its time, delivering punchy hour-long stories that in those heady pre-streaming days, created narratives that were the UK's water-cooler conversations. Running for 12 episodes, Schuman's incisive teleplays allowed enough time to fully define the characters and their interactions. Here, that 12 hours of telly is condensed into nigh-on three hours of musical, a compression that is far from flawless. The show’s unwieldy second act grapples with an untidy narrative and needs a trim, while elsewhere and far too often the supporting characters are portrayed as little more than 2-dimensional caricatures.

The wonder of this show however lies in Strallen Hurst and Bawden. As an ensemble their harmonies are delicious and in solo work, each woman sings with a unique clarity and timbre that is spine-tingling in its beauty. Indeed, with The Sound Of Music playing just across the driveway in the Festival Theatre it is likely that right now Chichester is staging some of the finest performances in the country. 

Credit too to Nigel Lilley and Toby Higgins whose musical arrangements of the score that, as well as including mostly new material, also offers up a couple of juke-box gems along the way, is inspired and their 5-piece band is sensational. Equal credit to Ian Dickinson’s sound design that not only captures the sounds of the 70s – that noise of a 10p piece being pushed into a payphone’s coinbox will go straight over the heads of anyone under 50 - but also brilliantly captures the acoustics of the three singers' public performances, whether the venue being portrayed on stage is a dingy London pub or New York’s Madison Square Gardens.

The script may creak, but the production values are gorgeous and the performances sensational. A well curated tribute to the 1970s, 

Runs until 26th August

Photo credit: Johan Persson

The Car Man - Review

Royal Albert Hall, London

*****

Directed and choreographed by Matthew Bourne

Music by Terry Davies and Rodion Shchedrin's Carmen Suite (after Bizet's Carmen)

Will Bozier

More than twenty years after Matthew Bourne’s The Car Man, his ballet inspired by Bizet’s Carmen, premiered in Plymouth the show returns to London playing at the Royal Albert Hall as a part of its 150th anniversary and marking the first time that Bourne has ever staged a production in the landmark London venue. No expense has been spared in this revival, with the director/choreographer fielding a cast three times the size of his original 2020 company.

The plot’s inspiration may hail from Carmen, but the aura of The Car Man hails from Hollywood. Set amidst an Italian-American community in the USA’s Midwest, the action plays out in the fictitious town of Harmony, a name that is as ironic as its images are iconic. This is a town of billboards, tumbleweed and Dino’s eponymous automobile repair shop, where the car men work. The music is from Rodion Shchedrin’s Carmen Suite supplemented by additional composition from Terry Davies, with the opera’s fabulously familiar melodies delivered to perfection under  Brett Morris’ baton, fused into mouthwatering leitmotifs that emerge through the two hour show.

Zizi Strallen

Bourne’s protagonists are a quintet made up of the abusive Dino who is also the owner of the town’s diner, his wife Lana, her sister Rita together with Angelo, a hired help and Luca an itinerant drifter whose arrival leads to the destruction of Harmony’s harmony. This review will not reveal how the five’s smouldering passions ignite, but remember that this is Carmen-themed where lust, jealousy, and murder have to fuel the narrative. Bourne’s vision is as bold as it is beautiful and bloody, with his characters’ sexualities straddling their desires and all leading to an inevitable and heartbreaking revenge.

Will Bozier is Luca the titular car man, with the practically perfect Zizi Strallen opposite him as Lana. Both of these performers are outstanding in their dance and acting and where the intimate nuance of stolen glances can so easily be lost in the Royal Albert Hall’s vastness, the billboards that double up as projection screens show occasional snatches of beautifully filmed lingering glances in true Sunset Boulevard style close-up. Strallen is wondrous in portraying both her allure to Luca and also in capturing quite how irresistible she finds him to be. Mary Poppins she ain’t!

Will Bozier and Zizi Strallen

Bozier is all muscle and movement. A guy who cannot keep it in his trousers and to whom any hole is a potential goal. Oozing testosterone, his is a role of almost perpetual or potential conflict or coitus. Physically demanding, Bozier’s performance is breathtaking.

Paris Fitzpatrick’s Angelo is the more diminutive of the younger guys, clearly vulnerable and at times violently violated and abused. Integral to the plot, his is a carefully delivered role. Likewise Kayla Collymore’s Rita. While hers may be the more marginal of the principal roles, Collymore dances with an assured and nuanced sensitivity.

Kayla Collymore and Paris Fitzpatrick

The middle-aged, flabby Dino is played here by Alan Vincent, a neat touch being that back in the day at the show’s Plymouth premiere, it had been Vincent who created the role of Luca. At the Royal Albert Hall however, Vincent captures the rage of the cuckolded Mediterranean exquisitely. And as is so often the way with a New Adventures production Lez Brotherston’s design work shifts the audience from London’s south-west to America’s mid-west effortlessly. 

For more than two decades The Car Man has been lifting the hood on modern dance, treating its audience to a powerful spectacle of music and dance that stirs the soul and pulsates the emotions. If you’ve seen it before, then you need to revisit this outing to wonder at how Bourne’s company fill the Royal Albert Hall. And if you haven’t seen it, then all the more reason to grasp the opportunity right now. Either way, just go!

The Company

Runs until 19th June

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Strictly Ballroom - Review

Piccadilly Theatre, London

***

Created by and book written by Baz Luhrmann

Book by Craig Pearce

Directed and choreographed by Drew McOnie

Jonny Labey and Zizi Strallen

Every now and then a great stage musical is translated onto the big screen in an evolution that can see vistas expanded and detail added to what might originally have been far more nuanced in the theatre. Done in reverse and it can all get a bit messy - as cinematic themes and styles are telescoped into the restrictive frame of a proscenium arch.

So it is with Strictly Ballroom - in which Baz Luhrmann’s seminal 1992 picture (and one of the greatest Australian movies ever) has been condensed into something far more average, now playing at the Piccadilly Theatre.

The story is an unrelenting pastiche that is not only unpolished, it has in fact been relentlessly smothered in glitter. One senses that the show's core audience is likely to be middle aged women on a night out to hear Will Young singing the songs of their long-past youth.

Young’s Wally Strand is a role that sees an English actor, don an Australian accent and effectively play the role of a Greek chorus. His voice is mostly mellifluous, but few of that core audience are likely to care as he relentlessly turns memories into muzak, rendering classic rock and pop hits of the 80s into elevator fodder.

The book and songs here may be dire, but the entertainment shines through in Strictly Ballroom's dazzling dance. Drew McOnie choreographs the piece (he also directs, though thankfully with a book this shallow it is hard to blame him too much for the show’s cheesy tedium) and works his usual magic. McOnie is blessed in his task by having an outstanding company to work with. Zizi Strallen and Jonny Lacey are outstanding in their leading roles of star-crossed unlikely lovers - and they are wonderfully supported by (amongst others) the stand out work of Lauren Stroud and Fernando Mira - a man who makes his Cuban heels simply blaze.

Ben Atkinson’s 10-piece on-stage band also make fine and impressive work of the score, notwithstanding some of the overpowering arrangements.

But it’s Strallen and Labey that are what this show is all about. If you enjoy their fabulously fancy footwork (or, of course, the sight and sound of Will Young squeezed into glitzy leather) then you won’t be disappointed.

Booking until 20th October

Photo credit: Johan Persson

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

Chicago

Curve Theatre, Leicester

****

Book by Fred Ebb and Bob Fosse
Music by John Kander
Lyrics by Fred Ebb
Directed by Paul Kerryson

Sandra Marvin and Verity Rushworth

Bob Fosse co wrote the book of Chicago. He also famously inspired the show’s choreography, which could be found on tour in the UK even up until last year. But not any more. That famously coquettish and provocative sexuality has been laid to rest and there’s a new dance style in the Windy City. Like an impetuous child, young British choreographer Drew McOnie has taken some of Broadway’s biggest numbers and re-imagined their steamy suggestiveness into a style that is entirely 21st century.

Paul Kerryson directs on the sleek modern vastness of the Curve’s main auditorium. It’s a big (and possibly expensive) space to fill, sometimes too big and if occasionally the intimacy of a bedroom scene or a lawyer's office seems dwarfed, one does not have to wait long until McOnie’s routines fill the stage. The show is such that one’s eyes are often drawn to the fascinating and complex company dance work rather than the singing lead.

The murderous partners in crime, Velma Kelly and Roxie Hart, are played by the accomplished Verity Rushworth and Gemma Sutton respectively. Both women are vocally stunning, with Rushworth flashing occasional glimpses of breathaking acrobatic talent. Not quite the finished article yet, their poor synchronisation in the eleven o’clock number Nowadays is a distraction. Nothing though that can't be mended with a spot of drilled rehearsal and a few days settling into the run.

Kerryson is at his best when exploiting the bleak humanity of Kander and Ebb’s caustic wit. The comic pathos of Amos Hart’s Mister Cellophane is a brilliant turn from Matthew Barrow, whilst the sardonic irony of Sandra Marvin’s Mama Morton singing Class with Rushworth is another gem. Credit too to Marvin’s When Your’re Good To Mama. Her Curve-filling curves deliver a thrilling sound and to quote her signature song, she sure deserves a lot of tat for what she’s got to give.

David Leonard is Billy Flynn. He does everything just fine, but somehow there’s a touch of star quality pizazz that’s lacking. Hopefully that too will develop into the run. Notably brilliant amongst the company are Adam Bailey’s Mary Sunshine and Zizi Strallen’s Mona along with her other ensemble responsibilities. One suspects that her understudy Velma will be very watchable too.

The star of the show however is undoubtedly McOnie’s dance work, enhanced by takis’ androgynously metro-sexual costumes. In Razzle Dazzle, when Flynn sings of the court room being a three-ring circus, McOnie sculpts his company, using their limbs together with ropes and harnesses to create a writhing mass of syncopated beauty. Moulding bodies into art forms, in time to the brassy rhythms of Ben Atkinson’s immaculately performing seven piece band, his images are breathtaking. See this show if for no other reason than to glimpse the future of showtune choreography.

Curve’s Chicago is a stylish Xmas offering to a city that has become accustomed to festive excellence from Kerryson and his company. Its a thrilling show and if you have a passion for innovative musical theatre, then its simply unmissable!

Chicago runs to 18th January 2014. To book tickets, click here

To read my interview with director Paul Kerryson, click here

After Show

London Hippodrome, London

****

Once a month, the London Hippodrome’s divinely decadent Matcham Room succumbs to a midnight hour (or two) of cabaret’d magical mania, as the cast of two West End shows battle it out in a quiz/contest of wit and talent in After Show.

OK, so its not quite midnight (the show commences at 11) but the evening reflects one of the most skilful combinations of spontaneous improvised hilarity along with the immaculately rehearsed professionalism of some of the most sickneningly talented performers to be found on stage today. The July show featured Merrily We Roll Along vs Spamalot with Damian Humbley, Robbie Scotcher and Zizi Strallen representing Merrily, whilst Jon Robyns, James Nelson and Michael Burgen flew the Spamalot flag.

The smut was frequent and the gags were fast and furious (I lost count of the number of times the lyric “I’m Zizi Like Sunday Morning” was sung by the hosts, but it didn’t really matter) and the challenges that are posed to the teams are best described by the technical term “ridiculous”. Amongst rounds that were tributes to old TV game show favourites such as Bullseye and The Generation Game, there was also a Countdown round requiring words to be formed from the letters SUQMADEEK and ASSBURGER. Classy huh? Well er, embarrassingly er, yes. This reviewer could be found, from time to time, moist eyed at the hilarity of it all.

Each month features unique games inspired by the competing teams with the two specialised games of this particular evening being "Merrily We Fling A Thong", in which a marshmallow had to be knocked off an opponents head using only the flinging of a thong and Cramalot, in which opponents' mouths were increasingly crammed with marshmallows. As the stuffing increased, after each additional candy was inserted (or forced in) the stuffee had to say the word Cramalot. Its unashamedly schoolboy stuff, but trust me, it works.

Damian Humbley celebrates firing his thong into James Nelson's face

And amidst all this rather stupid mayhem, there are some quasi-serious moments of genius, when the contestants stand at the mic and sing, beautifully accompanied by the house band of Steve Holness, Elliot Henshaw and Olly Buxton. And as might be expected, the singing is simply sensational. For the most part casually clad, and with a simple intimacy that belies the outstanding standard of their performances, these skilled professionals rattle off some of their personal favourites in a manner and style that The X Factor can only dream of replicating. Memorable from this visit (though all the performers shone) were Michael Burgen’s "Debukelele" with John Robyns modestly accompanying on guitar and Robbie Scotcher’s Dancing In The Moonlight. Talented performers, singing beautiful songs, wonderfully.

Regular hosts of the night are Simon Lipkin, Jamie Muscato & Owen Visser who, as well as being gifted musical theatre professionals, also bring a polished and semi-rehearsed wit and irreverence to the night that, amidst much heckling, is great for its immediacy as well as its barbedness. They take no prisoners, but its all done amidst affectionate respect.

If you are an MT professional, then a visit to After Show is a must. If you are simply a fan of the genre, with a love for theatre, be it West End or fringe, then go. You may end up sitting next to the star of the show you’ve just seen on stage, you may end up spattered with shaving foam, or you may just end up amused and entertained. Bring your cab fare or a night bus timetable to get you home, it finishes after 1, but above all, just go. After Show is a supremely professional gig that blends meticulously rehearsed excellence with anarchic hilarity. Catch it when you can!

(Oh, and Spamalot won on the night!)

To find out more about After Show dates visit www.AfterShow.biz