Sister Act - Review

Dominion Theatre, London

**** 

Music by Alan Menken

Lyrics by Glenn Slater

Book by Cheri Steinkellner and Bill Steinkellner

Additional book material by Douglas Carter Beane

Directed by Bill Buckhurst

Lizzie Bea, Beverley Knight and company

Sister Act is everything that is great about musical theatre. The star studded cast lead the audience through the tale of Deloris (Beverley Knight), an aspiring musician who after stumbling across a gangland murder is forced to go into witness protection in a convent, all under the watchful and disapproving eye of the Mother Superior (Ruth Jones). Deloris delights as she revamps the downtrodden convent’s choir into a band of all-singing all-dancing nuns with a disco edge. 

Knight gives an utterly standout performance, her breathtaking vocals leaving the audience wanting more after every song. Her take on of Deloris is wonderfully exaggerated yet still sympathetic as the audience follow her character's journey from disco diva to a true convent sister. 

The outrageous Deloris plays excellently opposite Ruth Jones’ far more muted and restrained Mother Superior. The casting decision for Ruth Jones in this role seems to have been made more for her ‘star’ status rather than musical theatre acumen, as Jones’ vocals don’t hold weight alongside her cast members. However, what Jones lacks in singing talent she makes up for in comedic contributions to the show. Despite the supposed ‘dull’ persona of the Mother Superior, Jones brings a light cheekiness to the role with her own signature Welsh twist. It is a delight as Jones opens the show with her classic greeting of ‘alright’ and wearing Welsh dragon socks, making the role feel truly her own. 

Other notable performances come from Clive Rowe in the role of Steady Eddie and Lizzie Bea as Sister Mary Robert who both very much hold their own as solo vocalists, as well as eliciting continuous laugh out loud moments. 

Morgan Large’s set is simple yet effective with mostly static set pieces and props, allowing the cast to really take the foreground without distraction. The stage seamlessly transitions back and forth from an austere church setting to colours and lights of the disco age with at least one mirror ball on stage at any given moment. Costuming, also by Large, is delightful with the perfect amount of sequins that you would want from a big hit West End musical (by the finale each cast member is decked from head to toe in sparkles).

The entire show is entirely charming and genuinely hilarious with the cast’s joyful performances providing such an infectiously bright atmosphere that it would be a shock if anyone left that theatre without beaming from ear to ear. Sister Act really will take you to heaven and make you want to raise your voice!

Runs until 31st August

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Reviewed by Dina Gitlin-Leigh

Sister Act - Review

 Eventim Apollo, London

****

Music by Alan Menken

Lyrics by Glenn Slater

Book by Cheri Steinkellner and Bill Steinkellner

Additional book material by Douglas Carter Beane

Directed by Bill Buckhurst

Beverley Knight and Company

Beverley Knight leads a cracking cast as the pandemic-delayed production of Sister Act finally arrives at the Eventim Apollo. In a glitter-ball enthused celebration of kitsch, Knight is on top form as singer Deloris Van Cartier, hiding for her life from her gangster boyfriend Curtis amidst the nuns of Philadelphia’s Church of Perpetual Sorrow convent.

The story is a Hollywood confection that taps into the joy of the human condition as Deloris brings sunshine and singing to the downtrodden sisters. Jennifer Saunders is perfectly cast as Mother Superior, catching her character’s nuances of disapproval with immaculate comic timing. Stunt-casting maybe, for Saunders cannot sing, but in a show that’s as much fun as this that’s no big deal. Elsewhere in the convent Leslie Joseph and Keala Settle are on fine form, but the standout turn amongst the nuns is Lizzie Bea’s Sister Mary Robert, displaying a vocal strength that is simply breathtaking.

Jeremy Secomb as Curtis is a delicious baddy and his take on When I Get My Baby is the best one-man tribute act to the 1970s that you are likely to see. It is Clive Rowe however as veteran cop Eddie whose soul number I Could Be That Guy offers up the standout male performance of the night.

Bill Buckhurst directs effectively within the shallow confines of the Eventim stage - ably assisted by Morgan Large’s designs and Alistair David’s choreography. Alan Menken’s score is a disco-driven collection of tunes, which while not being memorable are nonetheless gorgeously delivered by Jae Alexander’s 12 piece band.

For a night of slick West End entertainment that’s wonderfully performed, Sister Act is a delightful evening of musical theatre.

Runs until 28th August and then on tour

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Sweet Charity (at Nottingham Playhouse) - Review

Nottingham Playhouse, Nottingham



****



Music by Cy Coleman
Lyrics by Dorothy Fields
Book by Neil Simon
Directed by Bill Buckhurst

Rebecca Trehearn and Ensemble

As Bill Buckhurst’s production of Sweet Charity takes the show squarely back to its 1960s origins with Rebecca Trehearn in the lead, the show delivers an exhilarating if somewhat brutal comment on humanity that proves disarmingly timeless.

Trehearn’s Charity is as kooky as the role demands – and yet driving her character is the same honest energy that Julia Roberts’ Anna showed in the movie Notting Hill. Charity is just a girl asking a boy to love her, and it is a mark of the genius of the recently departed Neil Simon, that his book has us believe in its commonplace heroine’s remarkable journey.

The show revolves around Charity and her fellow taxi-dancers at the Fandango Ballroom, earning a buck as they are paid to dance with sleazy punters. Amidst the Fandango’s glitter, there’s little real sparkle to this life but again, it is Simon’s scalpel-like incisiveness that teases out the pearls of humanity that exist in this New York dive. Buckhurst, with choreographer Alistair David, offers up a scorching interpretation of the old yarn. The show’s most famous number, Big Spender has long been associated with Shirley Bassey’s razzmatazz, a song that is an adulation of a man with power and money (sounds familiar, no?). Here however, the brashness is reduced to subtly jarring cascades of both movement and harmonics, underlining the truth that there really is no glamour whatsoever amidst the men who visit the Fandango Ballroom. Buckhurst’s Big Spender is more chilling than thrilling – an inspired move.

Driving the show is an immensely talented cast and crew. Trehearn brings an exhilarating confidence to Charity, inhibiting the role with song and dance that is perfectly performed. At her finest with the big solos of If My Friends Could See Me Now and, a Dolly Levi-esque I’m A Brass Band, she is a whirl of relentless energy and talent.

Charity's two love interests come from Jeremy Secomb’s wonderfully hammed-up Italian movie star Vittorio Vidal and the far more complex Oscar Lindquist (Marc Elliott). While Vidal is a two dimensional screen idol, it says much for Secomb that he still brings moments of rich empathy to the role along with vocal majesty to his one big number Too Many Tomorrows. Elliott has a much tougher nut to crack with Oscar’s inadequate everyman. If one thinks of The Producers’ Leo Bloom, or (from many years ago) Woody Allen’s countless neuroses-fuelled New Yorkers, Elliott delivers a sharply observed interpretation of a man who is ultimately a hopeless, cowardly failure.

And the supporting roles are a treat too – Amy Ellen Richardson and Carly Mercedes Dyer (taxi-dancers) offer up a gorgeous two-part harmony with Baby, Dream Your Dream, also impressively leading the Fandango girls in Big Spender, as Leah West puts in a neat turn as Vidal's manipulative lover, Ursula.

The show has its brief moments of hilarity. Shaq Taylor kicking off the second half with The Rhythm Of Life is just pure theatrical joy – showcased brilliantly by takis’ arches – while the act closes with brilliant work (again) from Carl Sanderson’s Herman singing I Love To Sing At Weddings. Across the show, Caroline Humphris' deliciously brass-heavy band perched cleverly atop both sides of the stage, are magnificent.

It has been some years since the Nottingham Playhouse staged a full blown Broadway show – Sweet Charity places the venue firmly back on the map of the nation’s musical theatre hotspots.

Runs until 22nd September

Sweeney Todd - Review

Barrow Street Theatre, New York


****


Music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Book by Hugh Wheeler
Adaptation by Christopher Bond
Directed by Bill Buckhurst

Sally Ann Triplett and Thom Sesma

Visiting New York offers a chance to catch up with the trans-Atlantic transfer of Bill Buckhurst’s ingenious take on Sweeney Todd, sited in a replica of Harrington’s eponymous Tooting pie shop.

In the current iteration Thom Sesma plays the barbarous barber, while Sally-Ann Triplett picks up the rolling pin as Mrs Lovett. There’s a callow, haunted presence to Sesma whose Todd evidently serves “a dark and vengeful god”. One senses Sweeney’s murderous power and potential from the outset, Sesma’s opening exchanges with Anthony (Billy Harrigan Tighe) heavy with understated menace. The production however has its actors un-amplified, and annoyingly there are moments when lyrics are lost.

Triplett is, as the role demands, far more floury than flowery. Indeed, while recent years have seen numerous talented women play Mrs Lovett, Triplett unlocks something special in the deep love that she’s evidently borne for Sweeney for many years. As she gives him back his knives, tools that she has evidently treasured, on his return to Fleet Street there is a moment of passion and pathos in her action that is a rare treat.

There’s only one Brit in the cast (Triplett) and credit to all the American players for their English accents. There’s not a weak link amongst them either, with classy vocals and acting coming from Delaney Westfall and Stacie Bono as Joanna and the Beggar Woman respectively. Michael James Leslie captures the plummy patrician in Judge Turpin, though perhaps a little more could be made of his contribution to the show’s sexualised horror in his own reprise of Johanna. And moving from horror to comedy, the first half’s closing number of A Little Priest needs its vocals honed and timed just a little tighter to enable Sondheim’s razor-sharp wit to be fully savoured.

With just a three piece band, musical director Adrian Ries makes fine work of Sondheim's complex melodies.

As Sara Bareilles’ Waitress plays on Broadway and this show runs in Greenwich Village, the power of the pie to pack in New York audiences has never been stronger. Of course, the pie-shop Sweeney famously goes one step further, allowing folk to pre-order a meat filled delicacy (veggie option available too) that arrives swimming in liquor (or, as the Harrington’s sign states, a little lasciviously, “Licker”). On the night of this review, the Beef Wellington pie was delicious, even if the portion of mash could have been a tad more generous.

Harrington’s at the Barrow Street Theatre was packed. It’s clear that this Sweeney Todd remains fine off-Broadway fare!

Now booking until September 2018

Barbarians - Review

Central St Martins School of Art, London

*****

Written by Barrie Keefe

Directed by Bill Buckhurst

Jake Davies, Thomas Coombes and Josh Williams

It has long been recognised that when writing about his world, Barrie Keefe’s finger is firmly on society’s pulse. With Barbarians however Keefe goes one step further, not just finding that pulse, but slicing it open in front of us, confronting his audience with those bloody, ugly realities that, skin-deep, continually surround us.

A 1970s trilogy of short plays, Barbarians follows three disaffected young men from their confused and sometimes angry adolescence into adulthood. Keefe’s deployment of irony is always a treat and the evening's opening play, Killing Time is peppered with his trademark black humour as the teenagers, not long out of school, contemplate an evening of petty crime.

Abide With Me sees the audience shepherded into holding pens to watch the three lads, all fans of Manchester United, spend the 1976 Cup Final ticketless outside Wembley Stadium and brimming with futile hopes to get in to see the game. Anger and frustrations bubble, as amidst the trio’s evolving dynamics, Keefe also exposes football's vicariously exploitative place in modern England. For young men with little else to believe in, their team offers a cause and a flag to rally behind, in later years a devotion often further exploited by the right wing National Front.

Barbarians ends with In The City, set against a backdrop of the Notting Hill Carnival. The boys are grown up now, yet still Keefe's scalpel mercilessly exposes further layers of pain and frustration.

Youth unemployment was (and is) rife when Keefe wrote the scripts and his prose remains a masterful and perceptive analysis of angst and inadequacy. Those of us who knew the era will relish the nods to Dickie Davis and adverts for Denim after shave, as well as recalling the days when a "tranny" meant a portable radio and a Rover 3500 signified some modest status. Alternatively, Barbarian’s younger audiences may perhaps consider a comparison with Green Day’s American Idiot, a show that speaks to and of an American wasted generation, as they observe Keefe’s characters walking their own boulevards of broken dreams.

Throughout, the three actors compel, no mean feat for a show that's nigh on three hours. Thomas Coombes plays Paul the wannabe alpha-male. He’s all mouth (or boot, or knife as circumstances dictate) and menace. Coombes explores his character’s machismo with an impressively thuggish sensitivity. Railing against a world that is passing him by bestowing him no favours, his ignorant hatred darkens with each chapter.

Josh Williams is Louis, the black kid. In Killing Time he’s the one of the trio that’s gone and got himself a skill as a refrigeration engineer. As he displays a decent commitment later to the army cadets and ultimately in landing himself a decent job, we see Keefe’s caustic vision expose the decay of friendships that were once strong, into an envious and racially fuelled contempt.

Completing the trio is Jake Davies’ Jan. The least impacting of the three in the first two plays though his subtly played reactions to his friends is critical, Jan dominates In The City. As a newly passed-out squaddie who's fearfully contemplating a posting to Belfast, Jan's terror and frustrations surge into a revelation that is as agonising as it is horrific.

Staging Barbarians in the starkly furnished former Central St Martins School of Art lends the tales an aura of frustrated bleakness and the fact that 40 years ago the venue hosted the first Sex Pistols gig, thus becoming the birthplace of punk, only adds to the evening’s zeitgeist. The site itself is a challenge. Three floors up, no lift and with a requirement to walk (or be herded) between the space’s auditoria, it’s a deliberately uncomfortable experience. Credit to Rob Youngson’s lighting and Josh Richardson’s sound design, both of which classily complement the location's complexities

Reprising Tooting Arts Club’s 2012 revival (although of that cast only Coombes remains), Bill Buckhurst - who recently directed the TAC's acclaimed pop-up Sweeney Todd - returns to the helm. Amidst spellbinding soliloquy and monologue, Buckhurst demonstrates a profound understanding of Keefe’s language and nuance, delivering a scorching, brilliant drama.

Runs until 7th November