Jason Robert Brown - Live In Concert - Review

Royal Festival Hall, London

****

Jason Robert Brown

Returning to a London concert for one night only, New York composer Jason Robert Brown plus West End guests, performed to an adoring Royal Festival Hall. Opening the gig with the overture from Honeymoon in Vegas, his latest to show to open (and after 3 months, close) on Broadway, there was an air of refreshing even if disarmingly honesty self-deprecation as Brown told his audience that the show was "the latest in a long series of shows you're not going to see over here!”

Musical director Torquil Munro had assembled an impressive orchestra for the evening, though given the venue’s vast expanse, a little more attention needed to have been paid to the sound-mix that occasionally went awry.  In what was to prove an event of two quite distinct halves, the evening’s first section was, for the most part, little more than a simply entertaining line-up. It was post-interval however that Brown’s selection of both singer and song became jewel-encrusted. 

Memorable from act one was wunderkind Eleanor Worthington-Cox’s What It Means To Be A Friend from Brown's paean to teenage angst, 13, whilst Bertie Carvel offered a touching reprise of his Leo Frank from the Donmar Warehouse's 2007 production of Parade of 2007. The highlight of the half however was Laura Pitt-Pulford (who merited a second half re-appearance) re-visiting her Lucille Frank, also from Parade only this time the Southwark Playhouse’s 2011 production. Pitt-Pulford's You Don't Know This Man offered a performance of beautifully measured power alongside quite possibly the best example of acting-through-song of the night.

Act two kicked off with a medley from The Bridges of Madison County, another of Brown's briefly lived Broadway shows - and whilst Caroline Sheen was exquisite as Italian immigrant Francesca, singing opposite both Matt Henry and Sean Palmer, too often the numbers suggested a Gaelic rather than Latin pulse, or maybe that was down to the hall's acoustics too. It took a one-off composition from Brown, Melinda, drawn from a fusion of the music of 1970's New York for the second half to truly ignite. Beautifully channelling a Billy Joel inspired sound, Melinda offered a rare moment to witness Brown's dazzling keyboard skills.

Amy Booth-Steel got the evening’s  The Last Five Years chapter underway with a beautifully nuanced I'm Still Hurting, though it was to be Cynthia Erivo's I Can Do Better Than That that saw this “national treasure in waiting” of musical theatre Festival Hall’s roof clean off!. It was tough on Oliver Tompsett who had to follow Erivo with a thoroughly decent (but by now, completely overshadowed) Moving Too Fast. In a number that was to see her powerfully duet with Brown, Willemijn Verkaik was on fine form with And I Will Follow. 

Whilst Brown's melodies are consistently ingenious, his lyrics vary. The caustic irony he imbued in The Last Five Years and in Parade was a mark of genius that matches Sondheim’s best for its pinpoint, minimalist dissection of the human condition, yet the evening's snatches of The Bridges Of Madison County seemed to lack the perceptive wit of his earlier years.  

Amara Okereke led a Drew McOnie choreographed Brand New You routine from 13, complete with a nearly drilled adolescent NYMT ensemble reprising their West End premiere from some years back, before Brown took the microphone again to encore with a passionate Someone To Fall Back On.

Seeming genuinely taken aback at the blazing warmth of his reception, Brown commented to the crowd who stood as one to salute him, that he "doesn’t see that every day!” Much like fellow American Scott Alan who himself only recently played London, one senses that both New Yorkers feel more appreciated on this side of the pond than back home.

Jason Robert Brown should return here soon, to a more intimate venue and for a (better rehearsed) residency of modest length. His talent as writer, pianist and heavenly-voiced singer too is unquestioned and what is more, London loves him.

The Light Princess

National Theatre, London

***

Music & lyrics by Tori Amos

Book & lyrics by Samuel Adamson

Directed by Marianne Elliott

Rosalie Craig

It says much for Marianne Elliott that the National Theatre currently have three of her shows on in town. This visionary director confounds the conventional boundaries of theatre and in combining well crafted puppetry with slick animation and excellent actors continues to astonish her audiences. A George MacDonald 19th century fairy tale, The Light Princess has been transformed into a musical by Amos and Adamson and whilst the show is a visual treat, scratch the surface and the musical is found to be truly light indeed.

Amos’ melodies albeit with an occasional rock undertone, often blend into a ballad-fest, with lyrics that lack craftsmanship (one loses count of how often the clumsy phrase “H2O” appears in songs). The show has a strong message to deliver on female emancipation, but sets about bludgeoning its cause into the audience with the subtlelty of a suffragette protestor rather than a slickness of modern artistic debate. Lest the show’s message is lost, Amos and Adamson hammer it home with lengthy speeches for both prologue and epilogue and the good folk of the National (under the brilliant Lyn Haill) endorse the politics with a programme that includes 18 pages of (some political) commentary and lavish photographs, yet strangely omits a list of the show’s musical numbers. Extensive animations pepper the show, yet all this clever speech and vision do not make up for the singular failure of The Light Princess to convey its message through the genre of musical theatre. A good musical, even one with a political message, (think Kander and Ebb’s Cabaret and Kiss Of The Spider Woman or Jason Robert Brown’s Parade) should be able to tell its entire story through song and dance. Prologues, epilogues and fancy animations are tell-tale signs of writers who lack the depth or talent to fully argue their subject musically and who have taken an easy way out. The beautiful work of Macdonald’s original tale and Elliott’s stunning direction is cheapened by Amos' and Adamson’s feminist politicising, with a reference in the show to anorexia that is almost offensive. When Althea vomits through having been force-fed, should that really be a laughing point for the audience? Of course not and that moment is a (thankfully rare) episode of disappointing stagecraft.

Notwithstanding her minor flaws, it still remains Elliott’s treatment of the show that demands that this piece of theatre be given attention. Rosalie Craig is Althea, the Light Princess, onstage almost throughout and who through the devices of both beautiful human puppetry and state of the art flying technology, spends nearly the entire show with her feet off the ground. In Elliott’s War Horse, the human puppeteers “disappear” from conscious vision after about 5 minutes or so and we believe we are seeing horses on stage. In this show, the excellent Acrobats who manipulate Craig don’t quite disappear from our vision, but they do deliver an effect that surely is as enchanting as anything MacDonald could have wished for. Craig is a delight in her starring performance though she is supported by a sublime cast around her. Clive Rowe could not be a more majestic king and whilst his previous National roles have offered him better lyrics to work with, his singing in this show reminds us what a treasure of the London stage he truly is. Amy Booth-Steel’s Piper narrates and sings with flair, whilst Laura Pitt-Pulford’s gorgeously booted Falconer, gives a thrilling rock belt to a number early in the show that is one of the few musically exciting moments of the evening.

New theatre and especially musical theatre is always to be encouraged and bravo to the National and to Nick Hytner for getting behind such innovation. The show might not be the best of the bunch, but its performers certainly are.

Now booking until 9th January 2014.