I'm Every Woman The Chaka Kahn Musical - Review

Troubadour Theatre, London

**

Written by Nia T. Hill

Directed by Racky Plews

Alexandra Burke

Chaka Kahn (and a number of her contemporaries) amassed a remarkable body of hits in their careers. Beautiful songs with strong messages and in I’m Every Woman at Wembley’s Troubadour Theatre, Alexandra Burke as Kahn smashes a fair few of them out of the park.

But 30 banging songs do not a musical make, and in between Burke’s sensational singing (and equally Sophie Earl’s fabulously fleeting stint as Joni Mitchell) the narrative that links the numbers is brief, shallow and clichéd.

Sandwiched between two glib family therapy sessions, the show delivers a whirl of brief vignettes, poorly linked, outlining Kahn’s career achievements that were peppered by battles with addiction and domestic violence. If only these darknesses had been treated with more artistic sobriety, the messages may have carried more credible impact. Notwithstanding Chaka Kahn’s real-life endorsement of the show, it all just seems at times too crass.

Give Alexandra Burke an unadulterated setlist of Chaka Kahn’s greatest hits supported by Aron Sood's excellent band from Wembley and it could well make for an evening of musical brilliance. As it is, I’m Every Woman needs an awful lot of work.

Runs until 27th September

Photo credit: Danny Kaan

The Ladyboys of Bangkok - Review

 The Sabai Pavilion, London

**

Beneath a pink, pulsating, (and when the bass is turned up, throbbing) big top erected on Shepherds Bush Green, The Ladyboys of Bangkok are strutting their stuff nightly during the show's London residency. 

In an evening that always promised more than was to meet the eye, perhaps if the tent had even been half-full (it was at far, far less than 25% capacity on the night of this review) then maybe all those mimed disco classics, pyro effects and laser beams that sliced through the haze might have complemented a party vibe. As it turned out, the evening felt more like an end-of-the-pier show on a rainy bank-holiday afternoon, rather than the tittilatingThai-themed treat of a cabaret and floor show that the marketing material had suggested.

The cast were troupers - playing to a virtually empty marquee while sporting immaculate make up and (occasionally) sparkling costumes they kept their smiles throughout. It was only a wonder that Queen’s Show Must Go On was not included in their pre-recorded backing set.

The two stars are for the Ladyboys’ sheer bravado and balls.

Runs until 12th July - then on tour and in Edinburgh

The Holy Rosenbergs - Review

Menier Chocolate Factory, London

**

Written by Ryan Craig

Directed by Lindsay Posner

Tracy-Ann Oberman and Dorothea Myer-Bennett

Set in north west London’s Edgware, Ryan Craig’s The Holy Rosenbergs was a muddled collection of Anglo-Jewish stereotypes when it premiered at the National Theatre back in 2011. Fast forward 15 years, and it transpires that time has not treated Craig’s playtext kindly.

David and Lesley Rosenberg had three children. Ruth is a human-rights lawyer working for the United Nations, Jonny is struggling to find his way in life and Danny, who had emigrated to Israel, has recently been killed in action serving as a helicopter pilot with the Israel Defence Forces in Gaza. The play takes place on the eve of Danny’s memorial service at the local synagogue.

Against this backdrop of conflicting views and profound loss, Craig weaves a narrative that lurches from the sensational to the implausible in a two-act play that is at best, problematic. Ruth, and equally improbably, her boss Sir Stephen Crossley (played by Adrian Lukis) who appears half way through the second act, lays out the charges against Israel’s allegedly criminal military conduct, while offering scant criticism of Hamas’s corrupted governance of Gaza and minimal objective comment upon its terrorist activities. It has sadly taken the horrors of October 7th 2023 and that day's ensuing revelations, including the intimate connections that have been found to exist between agencies of the UN and Hamas, to realise the naïveté, or perhaps more accurately, the useful idiocy, of Craig’s argument.

Done well, Jewish self-deprecation can provide moments of masterful drama as demonstrated by the likes of 20th century greats such as Sheldon Harnick and Jack Rosenthal. Craig aspires to be an (Arthur) Miller Lite, offering us clumsily constructed nods to the American's Willy Loman and Joe Keller in the character of David Rosenberg. His writing however doesn’t come close to matching Miller's genius.

So the work may be profoundly flawed, but what of Lindsay Posner’s production values? Tracy-Ann Oberman as Lesley and Dorothea Myer-Bennett's Ruth are both magnificent. Oberman in particular, capturing the complex emotions of a mother struggling to maintain her equilibrium while simultaneously dealing with unimaginably traumatic grief. Her take on the role is credible and carefully crafted. Equally, Myer-Bennett in a part that is hard to be seen as believable, makes a first-class job of some mediocre writing.

As for the men, Adrian Lukis's human rights lawyer offers up the best work of the night. As David, Nicholas Woodeson struggles to suspend our disbelief, and though his final scenes in the play are delivered with a sincere poignancy, it is too little, too late.

Tim Shortall’s set may be authentic Edgware, but lest there be any doubt about this production’s bias, as the audience take their seats in the Menier an audio mise-en-scene plays clips of Gordon Brown’s and Barack Obama’s criticisms of Israel’s military.

Notwithstanding some outstanding work from the women, The Holy Rosenbergs does not stand up to the scrutiny of being revived and should have been allowed to rest in peace.

Runs until 2nd May

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Grindr Mom - Review

Waterloo East Theatre, London

**

Written by Ronnie Larsen

Directed by Gerald Armin

Jessica Martin

Billed as a “funny, fast-paced comedy” and “a riotous plunge”, Grindr Mom turns out to be neither. 

Jessica Martin turns in a fabulous performance as a married Mormon mother who discovers that her son is gay, however Ronnie Larsen’s 80-minute monologue does not deserve her acting and (sometime singing) genius.

Larsen’s script lurches from one tediously bigoted cliché to the next, and while the drama’s closing chapter comes close to genuine pathos, the story’s ultimate finale is predictable and trite.

Rarely does an evening of comedy fall so flat.

Runs until 1st March

High Noon - Review

Harold Pinter Theatre, London

**

Written by Eric Roth

Based on Carl Foreman's motion picture

Directed by Thea Sharrock

Billy Crudup and Denise Gough

The translation of High Noon from Western to West End is a gamble as risky as awaiting the arrival of a convicted vengeful murderer on the midday train. But where Fred Zinnemann’s 1952 Oscar-winning masterpiece told a wondrous story, Eric Roth’s debut stage-play guns down the legendary yarn, leaving the exquisite original bleeding in the dust. 

Zinnemann relied on immaculate performance, cinematography and music for his screen masterpiece. Roth condenses that narrative into a claustrophobic work of trashy pulp fiction that’s very heavy on exposition and includes a liberal use of foul language that jars when set against the beauty of Carl Foreman's movie screenplay.

Billy Crudup delivers a decent turn as marshal Will Kane, a man forced to confront his nemesis Frank Miller, and on his wedding day too. Opposite Crudup and perhaps the evening’s biggest disappointment is Denise Gough’s two-dimensional and cliched turn as Kane’s bride Amy Fowler. The only performance that comes close to matching Crudup’s work is from Rosa Salazar as the town’s bar-owner and hooker, Helen Ramirez. Hers is a role of curious complexity that Salazar delivers with compassion and sensitivity. Elsewhere, too many of the cast are doubled or even tripled up in the roles they are allocated - that at times is more of a confusing distraction than an advancement of the plot.

Roth's tinkering with the political nuances of the movie is clumsy. Where Foreman's writing offered up a poignant allegory upon the evils of McCarthyism under which he had been persecuted, Roth (no-doubt inadvertently) sometimes sets his Kane on a pedestal alongside Donald Trump and Rudolph Giuliani, in his references to how effectively the marshal had cleaned up the town's historic crime problem. 

The usually brilliant Tim Hatley has designed a set of wooden slats that creates an effective suggestion of the brilliant sunshine of America’s frontierland, but is otherwise too nondescript an affair to effectively portray the tumbleweed nature of the town. Hatley does however conjure up an enchanting arrival of the eponymously climactic steam train - a staging that leaves one wishing he could have been as equally inspirational in his far more bland railway designs that are currently the backdrop to Starlight Express. And quite why Roth has chosen to pepper his script with snatches of Bruce Springsteen and Ry Cooder has to remain a mystery.

A clock sits atop the stage counting down the show’s 100 minutes. With the play lasting a quarter of an hour longer than the movie, those minutes drag. If High Noon is to mark a trend of Westerns being transformed into stage productions then may I respectfully suggest that Mel Brooks is approached for the rights to Blazing Saddles.

Runs until March 6th

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Wicked Witches Panto For Adults! - Review

Pleasance Theatre, London

**

Written and directed by Shane Shayshay Konno

Gigi Zahir

Leaping onto Wicked’s broomstick, Wicked Witches is the 2025 panto from the Pleasance. The producers have chosen to split the show into two separate versions, the Adult show plays to a strictly 18+ audience in the evenings while the Family iteration plays to the earlier houses.

Creating classy pantomime is a craft. Typically a show will play to a family crowd, frequently comprising school parties, and the humour has to be pitched very carefully. Saucy and edgy enough to make the grown-ups chuckle, but nothing that would make Granny (or the Headteacher) really blush. That's what a good family panto is all about - Oh yes it is!

Adult panto is a different ball-game, a no-holds-barred genre in which the gloves are (or should be) off. Its language and humour can be, and are expected to be, filthy. In adapting his family panto for an adult audience however, writer/director Shane Shayshay Konno has overreached himself and fallen very short. 

For an "adults-only show", the gags are lukewarm and the filth, smut and innuendo that would be expected, is equally tepid. With a script that is more eye-rolling than eye-watering, the evening turns out to be more of a gender-focussed, politically-correct picket line than the festive, bawdy, offensive entertainment that it should be.

To be fair, there’s solid work from both Gigi Zahir as the Wicked Witch (with stunning makeup) as well as Eleanor Burke as the Good Witch. Zahir turns in a cracking take on Adele while Burke deliciously hams up her Glinda-esque character. 

The much vaunted celebrity cameos come from the (brilliant) Ian McKellen as Toto the dog, lobbing in as many canine-themed puns as his brief slot allows, and Jeremy Corbyn MP. Gracing the show as the Wizard of Oz-Lington, Corbyn's acting skill is matched only by his ability to win a general election. There is however a delicious irony in seeing a failed national politician (locally of course, Corbyn is revered by a majority of Islington's munchkins who think he's wonderful) play one of literature's most celebrated charlatans.

Booking tickets for the Family version is strongly recommended. With a two-hour running time to fill, it’s gotta be better than this!

Runs until 22nd December

(Family version runs until 28th December)

Photo credit: Ella Carmen Dale

The Importance of Being Earnest - Review

Noel Coward Theatre, London

**

Written by Oscar Wilde

Directed by Max Webster

Stephen Fry

When it opened at the National Theatre late last year, Max Webster’s take on The Importance of Being Earnest was a work of theatrical quality and imagination, delivered by a company that dripped in expertise and experience. Now, transplanted across the river for a 3-month West End residency, the original’s acting genius is replaced by stunt casting and celebrity that takes an inspirational concept, reducing it to poorly performed moments of silliness.

Topping the bill for the evening is Stephen Fry, best known for his screen achievements rather than a career on the boards. In an unexplained gender-swap, Fry replaces (the previously excellent) Sharon D Clarke as Lady Bracknell. In what should be one of the most exquisite roles in the canon for women over 50, Fry gives a hammy performance that other than showcasing his distinctly recognisable voice delivering some of the most famous lines in English literature outside of Shakespeare, adds nothing to Lady B whatsoever. He is of course a big star and will no doubt draw in the punters - but they’ll be disappointed to find the actor delivers little more than a pound-shop Julian Clary.

The evenings other star name is Olly Alexander as Algernon Moncrieff. Alexander focusses on silliness over dramatic heft and while the role is undoubtedly complex, one feels that he barely skims its potential. Likewise Nathan Stewart-Jarrett who seems to concentrate more on the mania of Jack Worthing rather than his character’s depths.

Kitty Hawthorne and Jessica Whitehurst are respectively Gwendolen and Cecily, two parts that again, inexplicably, Webster has chosen to play through channels of over-acted histrionics. The physical comedy of Hayley Carmichael, doubling up as the faithful retainers Lane and Merriman has faint echoes of Tom Eden’s genius as Alfie in One Man Two Guvnors - but its little more than that, as Carmichael’s work descends into repetitive cliché. In a rare moment of class, Hugh Dennis as the Rev'd Canon Chasuble is brilliant.

The scenery is tired. Back at the Lyttleton, Rae Smith’s original designs were sensational. Here, the grassy banks of the Hertfordshire garden scenes are shockingly frayed, while actors waiting offstage for their cue are clearly visible in the wings.

This is a poorly executed transfer and other than the stunt casting, it is hard to see why the National and their co-producers have staged it. Perhaps they could resist everything except temptation?

Runs until 10th January 2026

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Hercules - Review

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London

**

Music by Alan Menken

Lyrics by David Zippel

Book by Robert Horn and Kwame Kwei-Armah

Directed and choreographed by Casey Nicholaw

Luke Brady

Rarely does a show descend from the pantheon of animated Hollywood class to the underworld of live-action West End mediocrity, but so it is with the legend of Disney’s Hercules that sees a gloriously witty movie regress into an evening of overpriced tedium.

It is hard to know where to rest the blame for this Herculean disappointment. Does it lie with Robert Horn and Kwame Kwei-Armah for their luke-warm, cliche-riddled book? Or with Casey Nicholaw for sloppily helming an overly camped-up show that is riddled with wardrobe and prop malfunctions? Or with James Ortiz and Dane Laffrey’s designs whose clunky depictions of beasts and monsters appear to have learned nothing from the puppetry genius of The Lion King? Or with Jeff Croiter’s lighting design that incredibly (for a stage as large as Drury Lane’s) dispenses with follow-spot operators, relying instead on pre-programmed lighting plots that frequently fail to illuminate their subject? 

Mostly the acting is strong - Luke Brady goes the distance in the title role, looking and sounding dutifully divine. Mae Ann Jorolan as Meg makes fine work of her solo numbers, while the five Gospel-infused Muses are a blast. Trevor Dion Nicholas reliably turns in a decent shtick as Phil, Hercules’s guide on his path to godliness.

The biggest casting disappointment however lies in Stephen Carlile’s Hades. James Woods’ 1997 voicing of Disney’s original Hades was an inspired delivery of the sharpest satire and to be fair, a devilishly tough act to follow. Carlile emasculates this most infernal of bad-guys, reducing him to a poorly performed pantomime villain. 

Alan Menken’s two strong compositions, Go The Distance and Zero to Hero support act one. The second half offers nothing that’s hummable, in a show that (almost) takes Disney’s Hercules from hero to zero.

Booking until 28th March 2026

Photo credit: Matt Crockett

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

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

White Rose The Musical - Review

Marylebone Theatre, London

**

Music by Natalie Brice

Lyrics and book by Brian Belding

Directed by Will Nunziata

The cast of White Rose

White Rose is a musical with its heart in the right place but sadly, not much else.

Based upon the real life group of Munich-based student activists who in the 1940s took a stand against Hitler’s regime, the show lacks the humbling genius of the brave young Germans who were its inspiration.

Other musicals have brilliantly tackled the ghastliness of the Third Reich, with Cabaret, The Sound of Music and The Producers (to name but three) all drawing on differing combinations of wit, irony and pathos to describe that darkest period of Europe's 20th-century history. White Rose however barely gets beyond repetitive, shallow, expositional numbers (which annoyingly, are not even listed in the programme), mostly set to jarringly forgettable rock rhythms. The impressively gifted and accomplished cast representing the best of young British musical theatre talent, are wasted on these mediocre melodies.

The show ends with the noble students singing “We will not be silenced” . If only…

Runs until 13th April

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

The Passenger - Review

Finborough Theatre, London

**

Written by Nadya Menuhin

Based on the novel by Ulrich Alexander Boschwitz

Robert Neumark Jones

Drawn from his personal experience, The Passenger was a novel by Ulrich Alexander Boschwitz describing the flight of Jewish Otto Silbermann from the horrors of Kristallnacht in 1938 Germany. Nadya Menuhin makes her playwriting debut with the piece, but while Menuhin’s intentions in translating the book to stage are honourable, the result is a one-act self indulgence that lacks dramatic sophistication and cries out for the input of a skilled dramaturg.

Robert Neumark Jones is Otto in a performance of remarkable energy that sees him onstage for the play’s entire 100 minutes. The story follows Otto’s journey in a cross-country railway travelogue that sees him, futilely, attempting to flee Berlin. Simply staged with no scenery, Joseph Alford’s carefully crafted soundscape is as impressive as Jones’ performance. A supporting quartet of actors deliver a multitude of roles ranging from Otto’s Aryan wife Elfriede (Kelly Price), through to to both the friendly folk and also the Nazis that he encounters on the rails.

In amongst the dialogue there are snippets of a history lesson - but Tim Supple’s staging is too simplistic and at times disappointingly pretentious. In what feels like a sometimes tedious evening, there’s a hint of a great play lurking within The Passenger. This isn’t it.

Runs until 15th March

Photo credit: Steve Gregson

Figaro: An Original Musical - Review

London Palladium, London

**

Music,lyrics, co-book and co-created by Ashley Jana

Directed, co-book and co-created by Will Nunziata

Jon Robyns and Cayleigh Capaldi

Much like an expensively wrapped trinket, Figaro is a show that has been lavishly cast and is beautifully sung. Unfortunately however, the words that are sung are trite and shallow, leading to an evening of wondering how on earth the likes of the gifted Jon Robyns ever signed up for this.

Robyns plays the titular villain, a Svengali-like man whose character never progresses beyond a cliched fusion of the Phantom of the Opera melded with Gypsy’s Mr Goldstone. Channelling his inner Phantom, Robyns/Figaro leads country-girl Sienna (a name repeated so often in an early number in the show that one could be mistaken for thinking they were at an Ultravox gig) to fall for his charms, and everything goes downhill from there. Equally hampered by the show’s ridiculous plot, Sienna struggles to establish herself as a credible character - her one redeeming feature however is that she is played by the sensational Cayleigh Capaldi whose voice has to be amongst the best in town.

Young Cian Eagle-Service (taking a night off from being a brilliant Oliver just down the road) partners the similarly youthful Sophia Goodman in a kiddy double-act that could almost drown in its own sugary sweetness. That being said, both Eagle-Service and Goodman are simply exquisite in their singing and in their acting through song. These kids are truly talented stars of the future.

Also on stage in supporting roles are Aimie Atkinson, Ava Brennan and Daniel Brocklebank, all adding a twist of shallow soapiness to the evening’s melodramatics but equally, all of them displaying powerful, flawless vocals.

Ashley Jana’s instantly forgettable songs (the show’s musical numbers are not even listed in the programme - always an ominous sign) lurch from ballad to anthem and back again, all underscored with an overemphatic and heavily amplified bass line.

A great deal of money and effort has clearly been spent on mounting the show on London's prestigious Palladium stage - if only similar energy had been devoted to its writing. Rarely have such awful songs been sung so amazingly.

Runs until 4th February

Photo credit: Fahad Alinizi

The Gift - Review

Park Theatre, London

**

Written by Dave Florez

Directed by Adam Meggido

Nicholas Burns

The phrase goes that while a turd cannot be polished, it can be rolled in glitter. So it is with Dave Florez’s scatological disaster of a play that sees the 40-something Colin receive a stool in the mail, delivered in a fancy cake box.

If this narrative had been the subject of a five-minute sketch from Derek and Clive, it may well have been eye-wateringly funny. But while the schoolboy humour of the play’s opening moments may make a bit of a splash, from then on any semblance of wit is well and truly flushed away.

The three-hander sees Colin, his sister Lisa and her boyfriend Brian (fine acting all-round from Nicholas Burns, Laura Haddock and Alex Price respectively) deliver a series of Gen X metro-cliches that take a frankly improbable storyline and strain hard to force out any semblance of comedy. Also floating in the bowl are the vaguest hints of political comment, along with a nod to Colin and Lisa’s dysfunctional childhood.

This is a clogged drama lasting for what feels like a very constipated two hours. Will leave you pooped.

Runs until 1st March

Photo credit: Rich Southgate

Antony & Cleopatra - Review

Shakespeare's Globe

**

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Blanche McIntyre

Nadia Nadarajah and John Hollingworth

There are occasions in the theatre when a play is less than the sum of its parts. So it is with Blanche McIntyre’s take on Anthony &  Cleopatra that boldly translates Shakespeare’s prose into a hybrid of spoken verse and British Sign Language (BSL).

John Hollingworth and Nadia Nadarajah play the famed titular lovers. Hollingworth delivers an adequate Anthony as Nadarajah serves up an equally impassioned Egyptian Queen. However, with Nadarajah communicating her entire role through BSL, those audience members not fluent in that language are forced to follow her dialogue via the surtitle screens placed at gallery level around the Globe’s open space.

While the projected words enable the narrative to be followed, the scrolling text screens completely distract one from the strengths (or weaknesses) of Nadarajah’s performance. One is looking at the screen, not the actor and as a consequence much of the power of the verse is lost. The same frustration applies to those other characters in the story delivered through BSL, where again one’s eyes are taken away from the stage by the projections.

Daniel Millar shines as Enobarbus, notably in his famous description of Cleopatra’s barge, but such moments are rare.

An ambitious production that ultimately fails to deliver.

Runs until 15th September

Photo credit: Ellie Kurttz

Marie Curie - Review

Charing Cross Theatre, London

**

Music by Jongyoon Choi

Book & lyrics by Seeun Choun

English book adaptation by Tom Ramsay

English lyrics, new musical arrangements & ensemble arrangements by Emma Fraser

Directed by Sarah Meadows

Ailsa Davidson

The international credentials of Marie Curie The Musical are remarkable. This is a show about a Pole, Marie Skłodowska (she only became Curie once married) who moved to France, that has been written by two Koreans and is now being staged in England. Not only is the show’s pedigree remarkable, so of course is its subject. Curie was a genius. A woman who battled sexism and anti-Polish racism, who discovered Polonium and Radium and who was to win two Nobel Prizes in her lifetime. While Curie’s studies into the use of radiation for cancer treatment was groundbreaking, her exposure to radium, along with countless others who handled the radioactive substance without protection, was to tragically cause her death together with many other workers who unknowingly succumbed to the lethality of those elements.

And so much like those elusive elements that Curie extracted from hard-wom ores, there are rich seams of romantic and dramatic potential to be mined in writing a musical about her life's journey. But in a show that may well have achieved acclaim across  south east Asia, nearly all of what lyrical cleverness there may have been in the Korean original has been lost in translation. 22 songs are squeezed into this one-act, 100-minute production which would be fine, just, if they were strong numbers. Musicals with a strong human arc demand verse that can combine wit, or at the very least irony given this story’s grim structure, to make them soar and stimulate an audience. Marie Curie lacks both. 

Two songs stand out, Radium Paradise, a song and dance number that parodies the impending grim potential of the newly found element, and You Are The Reason a pathos-steeped duet in the show's endgame beautifully sung by Curie (Ailsa Davidson) and her friend and compatriot Anna (Chrissie Bhima).

The show’s musical director Emma Fraser directs her seven-piece band with finesse, creating fabulous music. However Fraser's contribution to the show extends beyond the orchestral work, to include the translation of the show’s lyrics into English. Quite why the producers decided to engage Fraser for this task when the show's programme suggests that she has no previous theatre-writing credits to her name, is a mystery. The consequence of their decision is a show with lyrics that are for the most part shallow and performative, riddled with melodramatic mediocrity and which for all the hard work of the production’s talented cast, result in a dull evening.

Like a handful of the audience members around me, Marie Curie at least in its English iteration, should be quietly put to sleep with dignity.

Runs until 28th July

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Hamlet - Review

Riverside Studios, London

**

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Selina Cadell

Eddie Izzard

With earrings, acrylics, heels and skin-tight leather trousers it is clear that Eddie Izzard’s take on the Prince of Denmark is at least as much about asserting the actor’s femininity as it is about an interpretation of one of Shakespeare’s most enigmatic characters.

As a solo turn that lasts for two and a half hours incl interval this Hamlet is undoubtedly a display of remarkable stamina and fortitude but Izzard’s performance comes across as more about ticking the boxes of ‘doing a Hamlet’ rather than offering any new comment on the play. The clumsily truncated dialogue is frequently rushed and disappointingly for a press night, often stumbled over, and for those not familiar with Shakespeare’s carefully crafted verse the evening will have offered little insight into the nuanced classic yarn. 

Izzard's background in stand-up serves the performance well in the gravedigger scene which is genuinely funny - elsewhere however there needed to have been more matter with less Commedia dell'arte. Playing the final act’s swordfight for laughs, be they intended or not, detracts from the story’s tragedy.

Strip away Izzard’s celebrity status and it is hard to imagine this Hamlet commanding much box office success. As Shakespeare himself wrote (in a speech that Izzard's adapter, brother Mark Izzard, has chosen to excise from this production) “it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags.” Izzard and director Selina Cadell should have heeded those words.

Runs until 30th June

Photo credit: Amanda Searle

A Song of Songs - Review

Park Theatre, London

**

Written and directed by Ofra Daniel

Ofra Daniel and the cast of A Song of Songs

Written and directed by Ofra Daniel, A Song of Songs is an adaptation of the biblical poetry, originally ascribed to King Solomon. Whereas the in the original text, the poetry is framed as a dialogue between two lovers, Daniel hones in on just the female voice, centring the show around the character of Tirzah who recites the tale of her romance with an anonymous stranger in the streets of Jerusalem.

Drawing heavily on the poetry of the base text which, while beautiful in its recitation, creates a stark contrast with the newly written additions to the script, Daniel fails to match the original in both style and tone. Similarly, Hebrew language songs such as Elecha and Od Yishama were beautifully evocative, compared to many of the songs sung in the English narrative that felt muted and amateurish. Occasionally leaning into overacting at times, the seven main cast members remain on stage for almost the entirety of the show. The intimate nature of the Park Theatre demands more subtlety in performance which, at times during the evening felt like an enthusiastic school play. 

Daniel as Tirzah is a mesmerising lead, managing to keep the audience captivated even through some of the awkwardness of the on-stage costume and set readjustments. What really makes the show however, is the live band, led by clarinettist Daniel Gouly, whose backing music could almost be a show in and of itself. 

Marina Paz’s costuming was simple yet creatively constructed with scarves and shawls being used to convey different characters and a pleasing Spanish nod to music’s blend of flamenco and klezmer. The lighting however was sporadic with projections that often seemed out of place and which could have been toned down for the smaller space of the Park Theatre. 

With sound intentions no doubt, A Song of Songs could have been a fascinating spin on a very, very old classic. In this iteration however, Daniel disappoints.

Runs until 15th June

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Reviewed by Dina Gitlin-Leigh

Wild About You - Review

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London

**

Music & lyrics by Chilina Kennedy

Book by Eric Holmes

Directed by Nick Winston

Rarely have such a platinum-plated cast delivered a tale of such unfathomable mediocrity.

All of the actors Eric McCormack, Rachel Tucker, Oliver Tompsett, Tori Allen-Martin, Jamie Muscato and Todrick Hall are vocally magnificent, representing the cream of British (McCormack excluded) musical theatre talent. Nick Barstow’s 10-piece band are fabulous too.

It is just that Eric Holmes’ book and Chilina Kennedy’s lyrics are the shallowest cliche-fest to have made a West End stage in many a year.  Olivia (Tucker) wakes up in a hospital ward as the curtain rises, with her memory wiped. The show then begins an exploration of her piecing together the reconstruction of her life. Frankly, it may well have been a better story if she’d stayed asleep.

The second act is a shameless steal from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Carousel, albeit without that pair’s creative genius. The actors are left with little to do other than (beautifully) sing songs that it is impossible to care about.

Thankfully only on for 2 nights, Wild About You is over now.

Cable Street - Review

Southwark Playhouse, London

**

Music & lyrics by Tim Gilvin

Book by Alex Kanefsky

Directed by Adam Lenson

The cast of Cable Street

Not so much a Cable Street as a road to hell that’s paved with good intentions. Tim Gilvin and Alex Kanefsky’s musical is framed around a massive story, that of the Battle of Cable Street that saw thousands of Londoners join forces to halt Mosley’s British Union of Fascists’ march through the heart of London’s Jewish East End.

An ambitious conceit, but the show’s narrative however fails to capture the enormity of the Battle’s achievement, focussing instead on micro-vignettes that seek to wrap up most of the East End’s minority communities. The linking threads of an unconvincing romance and a contrived vengeful finale just don’t move one’s soul in a way that such a remarkable episode of history should command.

An ensemble cast play a multitude of roles and there are moments of excellence from most of the performers. Standout numbers in particular across the two acts come from Sophie Ragavelas, Sha Dessi, Joshua Ginsberg and Jez Unwin.

Gilvin’s rap numbers are frequently garbled and his lyrics too simplistic - that being said, his melodies for What Next, Let Me In and Only Words are charming.

Adam Lenson directs a piece that ultimately fails to reflect the immense humanity of its underlying historical grounding. The production also makes an offensive casting choice by placing an actor of colour in a fascist’s uniform.

Sold out for the entire run but check with the box office for returns.

Runs until 16th March

Photo credit: Jane Hobson