Sinatra The Musical - Review

Aldwych Theatre, London

****

Written by Joe Di Pietro

Directed and choreographed by Kathleen Marshall

Joel Harper-Jackson

The song, dance and music in Sinatra The Musical is world-class entertainment. A ‘juke-box’ show that threads together most of Ol’ Blue Eyes’s most recognisable numbers, for those who love Sinatra’s style, flair and voice, the evening is one of sublime talent.

Joe DiPietro’s book charts Sinatra’s life from around the 1940s over a handful of decades, peppering the timeline with hit after hit, each loosely woven into the narrative.

What makes this show soar however is not so much DiPietro’s book, as the legacy of Sinatra’s work, breathed into life at the Aldwych by Joel Harper-Jackson in the title role. Harper-Jackson is sensational in both tone and presence, and if you’re lucky enough to catch a split-second glimpse of his profile from the side, the resemblance to Sinatra is uncanny. The show’s creatives have played a smart move (for the most part) in how the songs are deployed through the evening. Opening with All Of Me (that proves to be a mini-motif of the evening), a novel twist sees Come Fly With Me used as the musical backdrop to Sinatra bedding his way through Lana Turner (Becky Anderson), Judy Garland (Jenna Innes) and Marlene Dietrich (Allana Taylor).

These women were of course bit-parts in Sinatra’s life, with the most influential females turning out to be his mother Dolly (Jenna Russell), first wife Nancy (Phoebe Panaretos) and his subsequent wife Ava Gardner (Ana Villafane). This talented trifecta are handed juicy solos across the show, with Villafane shining in Nice And Easy Does It, Panateros making heartbreaking work of In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning, while Russell along with Marty Aguire as her hubby Marty, sparkles in You Make Me Feel So Young. On the night of this review Sylvie Regan was Little Nancy, who sang with an enchantingly commanding presence.

If there is a criticism of the show it is Joe DiPietro’s wafer-thin book, the years playing out with a bland predictability. Aside from Russell’s fiercely matriarchal mamma, there is barely any humour at all, the mark of the perfect juke-box musical being that it can carry one’s interest in between the songs. There are moments during the dialogue when the evening drags. We already know that Sinatra was a serial womaniser with links to the Mob – Di Pietro sheds little new light on the singer’s journey. And deciding that Sinatra should sing The Way You Look Tonight to Little Nancy as she prepares to accompany him to the Academy Awards is the absolute depth of sugary, cutesy, kitsch albeit beautifully sung.

Those looking for Sinatra's classics will not be disappointed. That's Life and My Way bookend the interval, while New York, New York is gifted to the audience as a singalong number during the finale.

Kathleen Marshall directs and choreographs with flair, while Dave Rose’s 17-piece band are sensational (and don’t forget to stay for the exit music when each band member riffs a stunning solo!)

Lavish production values and oh, those magical songs!

Booking unti 10th April 2027

Photo credit: Brinkhoff-Moegenberg

Pacific Overtures - Review

Union Theatre, London

****

Music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Book by John Weidman
Additional material by Hugh Wheeler
Directed by Michael Strassen

The company of Pacific Overtures

One of his least performed musicals, Pacific Overtures sees Sondheim cast his gimlet eye on the diplomatic advances (the pacific overtures of the title) that America and subsequently other nations too, made towards Imperial Japan around the middle of the nineteenth century. The finely crafted tale depicts the guardians of a rarefied Japan grappling with the threat that the "barbarians" from across the Pacific posed to their culture and sovereignty. There is balance in the writing though and whilst Japan surely had a refined elegance to its way of life, Sondheim strips the scales away, portraying a harsh and murderous Japanese dictatorship, demeaning of women and with an ethos of intolerance and jingoistic nationalism fascist enough to make UKIP resemble the Rainbow Alliance.

There are few lyrical minds wittier than Sondheim and his act one lyrics, with frequent Haiku sub-cadences present an aural suggestion of Japan that has an uncanny authenticity. Michael Strassen's bold interpretation of the complex work again hints at his mastery of the musical, particularly with his work so often amongst the restrained budgets of off-West End theatre

Simple drapes suggest the ascetic world of this interpretation and with the undercroft auditorium's air heavy with the scent of joss sticks, the thematic nod to Kabuki is sealed. That the traditional Japanese art form demands a men-only cast will only have appealed to Sasha Regan's Union Theatre, a venue ever keen to present a scantily clad all-male flesh feast. But Strassen's vision holds firm and the artistic integrity of his staging is at times breathtaking, with some close harmony work that is sublime.

As with all of Sondheim’s shows, his musical numbers are akin to the Japanese military: They don't easily take prisoners. It's a simple choice, one either masters the Master's melodies or dies trying. Ken Christiansen may make for an imposing white-slapped Reciter, Shogun and ultimately Emperor, but he is found out on his singing solos. There is however excellence in abundance elsewhere. Ian Mowat is a delight in roles of varying gender and seniority, never bettered than as the geisha's madam in Welcome To Kanagawa, where his character seems to effortlessly conjoin The Engineer from Miss Saigon with Cabaret's Emcee. Amongst the boys Joel Harper-Jackson skilfully amuses as the Shogun's wife, Matt Jolly's Fisherman in Four Black Dragons is a treat, whilst Lee Van Geleen who recently impressed in HMS Pinafore, combines a pinpoint comic turn with a beautifully weighted baritone presence as the Russian Admiral.

Strassen's take on the complex piece is to be savoured, with Richard Bates' four piece band a delight, capturing much of the tale purely through the show's carefully crafted compositions. The company work in voice, movement and dance is top-notch, with Marios Nicolaides' ballet work an absolute treat. Oh and the three-part harmony of Pretty Lady has to be amongst the best in town. Not an easy show to watch, but unmissable both for Sondheim devotees and canny lovers of musical theatre.

Runs until 2nd August 2014

Picture Perfect

St James Studio, London

***

Music & lyrics by Scott Evan Davis

Conceived & directed by Simon Greiff

Jerome Pradon

In another display of fine production values, the fledgling United Theatrical team of Stuart Matthew Price and James Yeoburn have assembled a classy quartet to premiere Scott Evan Davis' new show.

Empty picture frames adorn the St James' basement stage, signalling that whilst appearances (frames) may be gilded, what lies beneath often isn't. Early on we find fourty-something Elizabeth discovering hubby Harry's infidelity. As son Josh agonises over the fear of mom leaving home, the mistress-young-enough-to-be-Harry's-daughter Ellie, swoons over her lover's apparent perfections. Throughout, Simon Greiff directs his company with a precise clarity.

Helen Hobson gives a beautifully weighted Elisabeth. Singing from the book, the script she held was barely noticeable. It is a mark of the woman that her delivery was exquisitely nuanced, either as caring mother or betrayed wife. She gives fabulous vocals and a faultless presence.

Jerome Pradon is her greying deceitful spouse. Again, a flawless performance, though it is in his role that the cracks in Davis' writing start to emerge with his guilty husband/dad character barely given an opportunity to crawl out of cliched predictability.

Josh is played by a mellifluous Joel Harper-Jackson. The young man's voice has a divine range and a fabulous belt and it is a mark of his talent that he can convince in songs that pitch him from aged 7 through to a much older young man struggling with his sexuality. He too however is bogged down by lyrics that are sometimes eye-rollingly awful. "Knowing who I was, Has taught me who I am" is a line that should never have made it past an early workshop.

As coquettish Ellie, the outstanding Charlotte Wakefield again shows why she was up for an Olivier earlier this year (coincidentally nominated for a Maria that played against Helen Hobson's Mother Abbess in the Open Air's Sound of Music). Amongst the best of her generation Wakefield dances her way through the show, each number a distinct and polished example of acting through song. A youthful audience filled the theatre (an impressive achievement on a sunny Sunday afternoon) and today's musical theatre students would do well to note the professionalism and excellence that Wakefield brings to all her roles.

Colin Billing's piano work with Sarah Bowler on cello bring a passion to the afternoon's accompaniment, though whilst all the tunes are superbly played, few are memorable.

In a curious irony, the show lives up to the pretext it purports to argue. The cast and creatives are glitteringly top-notch but scratch this show's surface and there is very little to stir the soul. Picture Perfect is a middling book about mediocre folk. Davis needs to inject more sparkling satire that lifts his lyrics above a paltry attempt at humour referencing human vices. Where Sondheim and Schwartz possess a brilliance that either tickles ribs or bites at one’s psyche, too much “new writing” (with Dougal Irvine and Scott Alan being notable exceptions) lacks the wit of these wordsmiths. On this showing, Picture Perfect remains a work in progress. Remove the cliche and there may yet be a deeply moving show waiting to emerge.