42nd Street - Review

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London


*****


Music by Harry Warren
Lyrics by Al Dubin
Book by Michael Stewart and Mark Bramble
Directed by Mark Bramble

The Finale of 42nd Street

42nd Street at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane is a feast of musical theatre. This revival of the 1980s show, itself inspired by the 1930s recession busting movie of the same name, is nothing less than a homage to Busby Berkeley’s lavish Hollywood tap routines, framed around a fairytale of Broadway. 

Peggy Sawyer is a kid fresh off the bus from Allentown. She's also a gifted dancer who manages to work her way into the cast of Pretty Lady, the latest production being mounted by Julian Marsh, a tyrannical Broadway producer. When ageing star Dorothy Brock crocks her ankle and is unable to continue in her role, Sawyer is plucked from the chorus to replace her. It’s all magical whimsy, surrounded by a  handful of comic-book subplots that really don't bear close scrutiny.

What makes this show pulse with life is its dance. All credit to the two Michaels, Grade and Linnit, who’ve produced the revival – their 55 (yes 55!) strong company is simply breathtaking. There's barely any (visible) fancy new technology here and no gimmicks at all. Even Douglas W. Schmidt’s scenery is (for the most part) in a refreshingly simple style with hand painted 2D backdrops. It is evident that in this multi-million pound show the producers' money has been lavished on the actors, their sensational costumes and countless pairs of tap shoes.

Amongst the featured roles Clare Halse’s Sawyer is just a delicious whirl of wonderful. Her feet defy belief as she works the show’s fiendishly fierce routines, taking us with her as Sawyer comes to realise her dream. Opposite her and with a modest love interest is Stuart Neal’s Billy Lawlor – again fleet of foot, a joy to behold and a beautifully voiced young man.

Tom Lister’s Marsh is spared much of the dancing responsibility, but he nonetheless creates a believably driven megalomaniac, with just a glimpse of heart. When his voice finds its pitch, he commands the stage.

Making her West End debut,  Sheena Easton is Brock. Easton's is a beautiful voice for sure – her I Only Have Eyes for You is a vocal delight – but her acting lets her down, failing to give the shallowness of her character the body it cries out for. If there is but one criticism of director (and writer) Mark Bramble, it is that he hasn’t taken Easton to fully fill the role.

No matter, for elsewhere there is acting excellence - as Dorothy Brock's septuagenarian, strung-along sugar daddy Abner Dillon, the always excellent Bruce Montague gives a mini masterclass in musical theatre comedy. Likewise Jasna Ivir and Christopher Howell as Pretty Lady's writers are a well polished double act, while Norman Bowman, as ever, brings perfectly nuanced excellence to the modest role of Pat Denning.

But never forget - 42nd Street is all about its song and dance and it's been a long time since a company so large and so perfectly drilled, has wowed a London audience. The classic numbers We're In The Money and Lullaby Of Broadway are joyous - while Keep Young And Beautiful, with the ensemble's Girls horizontal on a revolve as a Berkeley-style mirror is suspended above them to show the ingenious routine, makes it feel like a time machine has brought Broadway and Hollywood's Golden Age to London.

And as for the jaw-dropping finale, it is a festival of synchronised genius, a cascade of glitter and light celebrating the beauty of perfectly performed tap.

As the world on both sides of the Atlantic cautiously enters a new era, it’s just so refreshing to be shown a full-blooded glimpse of the heritage of happiness that beautifully crafted musical theatre can deliver. 

Bravo to musical director Jae Alexander and choreographer Randy Skinner. Drury Lane's 42nd Street is the most spectacular show in town!


Booking to July 2017
Photo credit: Brinkhoff & Moegenburg

Funny Girl - Review

Menier Chocolate Factory, London

*****

Music by Jule Styne

Lyrics by Bob Merrill

Book by Isobel Lennart

Revised Book by Harvey Fierstein

Directed by Michael Mayer

Sheridan Smith as Fanny Brice

The capital’s love affair with Broadway's Golden Age continues apace as Michael Mayer's visionary interpretation of Jule Styne and Bob Merrill's Funny Girl opens at London’s Menier Chocolate Factory prior to a limited run at the Savoy.

Imelda Staunton may have just wowed in Styne and Sondheim's Gypsy, but hard on her heels is Sheridan Smith's take on Fanny Brice. In a role that famously demands an unconventional beauty - and which, from both Broadway and Hollywood launch pads Barbra Streisand was rocketed into the highest of stellar orbits - Smith has enormous shoes to fill. But from the moment she eases into her first (and so wonderfully titled) solo I'm The Greatest Star, it is clear that Smith is arguably unsurpassed amongst her peers, offering a performance that defines a perfection in voice (and wow, that belt) combined with an innate ability to act through song, dialogue and sheer presence. From the moment the irresistible Gatsby-cum-cad Nick Arnstein enters her life, we want to shout out to her "don’t do it" and yet Smith nails Brice's complex cocktail of talent, chutzpah and a vulnerable need to be loved as well as to be famous, with aplomb.

And then of course there's the show’s legendary songs. In tackling People, Smith simply shatters the Streisand mould and makes the song her own. Likewise, she scales the immensity of Don't Rain On My Parade and The Music That Makes Me Dance with a sublime confidence that is more than matched by her stunning charisma and ability.

Alongside Smith, Mayer's company of actors match her excellence. The Brooklyn-ese shtick that is the acutely observed card-playing trio of her mother and her two elderly friends, defines New York, Jewish, gossiping yet caring grandmothers, to a tee. First class work from Marilyn Cutts, Valda Aviks and the venerable Gay Soper.

Bruce Montague's Florenz Ziegfeld captures the vision and gravitas of the legendary Broadway impresario, whilst Joel Montague's Eddie is another finely observed portrait of friendship and vision, brilliantly executed on stage.

And as the dapper rogue Arnstein, Darius Campbell is sensational. His persona easily proving a match for Smith, Campbell manages Arnstein’s arc, from majestic to emasculated - as his wealth ultimately collapses - with a voice of magical resonance.

The show's design (bravo Michael Pavelka) is an ambitious conceit, with moving belts that cleverly shift the cast through time and location - and a nod too to Campbell Young's sensational wig work alongside Matthew Wright's costume. Be it Broadway, Brooklyn or Baltimore, the era's style is perfectly captured. 

Harvey Fierstein hones the original book to a finer sharpness – Funny Girl being possibly Fierstein's greatest show in town at the moment - whilst Alan Williams has wrought a thing of beauty from Styne's magnificent score.  If Lynne Page's choreography is at times a touch ambitious for the Menier's confines, it will probably mature into perfection into the run.

This production portentously hints at greatness and its omens are good. Firstly, the theatre it's in. With The Color Purple, the Menier are proving that they can produce a Broadway show and ship it back across the Atlantic better than it was before. Secondly in Michael Mayer, an accomplished Tony-winner who must surely know that he is sowing awesome seeds in this classic work. And finally in Sheridan Smith herself. An accomplished stage and TV talent on this side of the pond, just watch Smith’s Funny Girl trajectory to prove she truly is the greatest star.

Sold out at the Menier until 5th March 2016 – Then at the Savoy Theatre from 9th April until 2nd July
Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Casa Valentina - Review

Southwark Playhouse, London


*****


Written by Harvey Fierstein
Directed by Luke Sheppard

Gareth Snook and Ashley Robinson

Harvey Fierstein’s second London opening this week after Kinky Boots is Casa Valentina, which makes its European premier at the Southwark Playhouse and proves a remarkable piece of theatre.

Set in the remote Chevalier D’Eon inn, tucked away in New York’s Catskill Mountains the drama revolves around a group of transvestites, all ostensibly heterosexual married men who visit the resort for weekend retreats where they can live out their feminine personae. The time is the early 60’s and as Fierstein’s brilliantly layered narrative unfolds, the complexities of denial and deceit and repressed sexualities plays out against a McCarthy-esque backdrop of prejudice, where even in the liberal Northern USA, homosexuality is still a crime.

The opening act paints a rich and credible tableau. George (aka Valentina and played by Edward Wolstenholme – keep up) runs the Inn with wife Rita (Tamsin Carroll) – and who as business is flagging, has enlisted the support of Charlotte (or Isadore – Gareth Snook) a Californian transvestite (TV) whose Sorority Magazine promotes the TV cause across the country and whose endorsement of the resort could boost visitors. But Charlotte has her own agenda and as Matthew Rixon’s brilliant Bessie (aka Albert) a man who, for these weekends, becomes a “decorated war hero in housecoat and turban” sagely comments: “politics and prosthetics don’t mix”.

The humour, poignancy and pathos of the piece is perfectly crafted by Fierstein, with Ben Deery’s nervous Jonathan/Miranda proving a finely nuanced definition of gauche as a relatively recently married man, nervously experimenting for the first time amongst fellow TVs. Ashley Robinson’s Michael/Gloria offers another finely sketched portrayal of a handsome young man who having famously deflowered most of the girls in his college year, still found himself yearning for their dresses the morning after. Veteran Bruce Montague as Theodore/Terry is a gem, whose brief appearance smoking a pipe whilst in full female garb is comedy gold, whilst Robert Morgan’s Judge (or Amy) hairy armed and on the verge of retirement takes the story to tragic depths.

Luke Sheppard has coaxed flawless work from his entire company – and in a production where again, budgetary constraints are tight, the genius of this show can only flow from the human talent on stage. Not only the acting, but also technical wizardry of some of the “girls’”makeovers is remarkable, both in make-up and mannerism.

Snook’s handbagged creation is every inch a woman whose shrewd and ruthless politics channel Margaret Thatcher crossed with Machiavelli. Perfectly poised and sensational without sensationalising, his is a convincingly terrifying performance. Yet it is Tamsin Carroll who breaks us. Her loving wife, desperately clinging to the vestiges of the man she thought she loved – but who ultimately loves Valentina over all else – offers a picture of grief and despair as profound as it is understated. This remarkable cast define Casa Valentina as unmissable theatre. It deserves a West End transfer – but until then, rush to catch it in Southwark.

Runs until 10th October 2015