Evita - Review

London Palladium, London




***



Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber
Lyrics by Tim Rice
Directed by Jamie Lloyd

The cast of Evita

Six years after bringing an outstanding Evita to London’s Open Air Theatre (click here for a review of that 2019 production) and amidst a blaze of well orchestrated publicity, Jamie Lloyd helms his show into the London Palladium. But what was once wondrous in Regents Park, fails to stun in the West End.

In 2019 it was Samantha Pauly, an actor relatively unknown in the UK who played Eva, delivering a performance that shone both in its excellence and its leading of her supporting company. Today however it is Hollywood’s wunderkind Rachel Zegler who heads the bill, a young woman who knows how to play to the camera but who lacks the chops to convincingly act through song on stage.

Familiar with delivering leading roles in starry close-up on the big screen, Zegler has amassed a following of millions. But with only a modest exposure to having performed in (let alone leading) a major show on Broadway or in the West End, it appears that much like Eva Duarte herself, Zegler has been hired for star quality over experience. 

Any production of Evita has to rest on the strengths of its leading lady, who in this production is sometimes found to be missing in action. As has been widely reported, Zegler sings Don’t Cry For Me Argentina, from the Palladium's outside balcony to a bunch of assembled passers-by, while the paying crowd *inside* the theatre are reduced to mere voyeurs, watching her via a big screen livestream. That the translucent screen barely shields the show’s upstage orchestra who remain visible throughout, is a distraction. 

Much has been made of Lloyd’s use of live-action video, notably with his 2023 take on Sunset Boulevard that saw Tom Francis careering around London’s Strand before winding up back on stage at The Savoy. But that of course was different. Francis was not the show’s main star, nor his song the evening’s biggest number.

At the Palladium we find Evita performing one of the most exquisite songs in the canon, from a remote location that is at best, acoustically compromised. Unlike previous on-stage Evitas, remove this Eva’s microphone and she doesnt just become hard to hear, she becomes completely inaudible, Lloyd's staging denying the audience the experience of hearing Zegler's natural tone and timbre as she delivers the classic number. It is not an unreasonable expectation that a live musical (and especially this musical, for which the money keeps rolling in at up to £245 per ticket) should deliver songs that are sung live on stage, all performed to the highest standard that the performers’ voices and the venue’s acoustics will allow. At the Palladium, the audience is being cheated. 

And while the outside throng of several hundred are no doubt appreciating the nightly free rendition of the show’s nine o’clock number, as Lloyd’s camera pulls back to reveal Soho’s mostly empty Argyll Street (including the distracting logo of the next door Pret restaurant that hoves into view), it all seems a little tacky and contrived and, both literally and artistically, many miles away from the narrative's intended romance of Buenos Aires and the Casa Rosada. Good theatre should suspend the audience's disbelief, transporting the audience to another place. When the only place that they are transported to is a grimy London side street, then that fragile bubble of imagination bursts.  

Back inside the theatre, Fabian Aloise’s choreography remains exciting and imaginative, equally Jon Clark’s brutal lighting designs heighten the violence of Peron’s fascism. But the production's sound design is ghastly, with too many songs coming across as though they are being shouted from the stage into an inaudible oblivion.

The Palladium balcony scene has proved a brilliant marketing gimmick, with the show having grabbed news headlines across the country and word of mouth spreading like wildfire. In reality however, the scene’s flaws see it amounting to little more than a modern interpretation of The Emperor’s New Clothes.

Jamie Lloyd’s revived Evita proves that star quality is no substitute for talent.

Runs until 6th September

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

The Effect - Review

National Theatre, London

*****

Written by Lucy Prebble

Directed by Jamie Lloyd

Paapa Essiedu and Taylor Russell

After a gap of some 11 years, the National Theatre’s revival of Lucy Prebble’s The Effect is as timely as it is brilliant.

In this ingenious four-hander Paapa Essiedu and Taylor Russell are Tristan and Connie, two volunteers trialling an anti-depressant over a 4 week period in a secure residential facility. Michele Austin and Kobna Holdbrook-Smith are the clinicians Lorna and Toby, overseeing the trial, with Lorna being responsible for the trial’s execution, while Toby is from the drug company who have developed the medicine that’s being tested. In a tight single act that lasts 100 minutes, Prebble immerses us into the intensity of an improbable love that evolves between Tristan and Connie, while also exploring the doctors’ dynamics too.

Director Jamie Lloyd delivers electrifying theatre. Essiedu kicks off as the opportunistic chancer - eager to make a sexual conquest out of Connie, his swagger and machismo almost predatory in the play’s opening scenes. Russell’s Connie is an equally stunning performance as she explores her own responses to Tristan - and as the play unfolds, with one of them on the trialled medication and one on a placebo, the drama deepens to a level of human pain and passion that is at times unbearable to watch such is it’s intensity. In their own predatory sub-plot, the two medics are equally compelling.

As ever, designer Soutra Gilmour provides the staging for Lloyd’s vision, in this instance boldly transforming the Lyttleton’s proscenium stage into a traverse space with racks of seating upstage with the action playing out centrally. The colour scheme is a harsh black and white that Jon Clark’s brutal lighting plots enhance magnificently.

There’s so much to chew over in The Effect - not just the grief and humanity that is played out on stage, but also a wider contemplation of the manipulative powers of Big Pharma. In this post-pandemic world that Prebble could barely have contemplated when she penned her script, the world’s physiological reactions to both Covid and its panoply of speedily rolled-out vaccines, offer up some unexpectedly troubling analogies too.

The Effect is modern writing at its best and again, spectacularly, our National Theatre at its very best too. In Jamie Lloyd’s hands this makes for a night of outstanding, unforgettable theatre.

Runs until 7th October

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Doctor Faustus - Review

Duke of York’s Theatre, London


***


Written by Christopher Marlowe and Colin Teevan
Directed by Jamie Lloyd

Jenna Russell and Kit Harington

Christopher Marlowe’s story of Dr Faustus is well-known. The scholar no longer able to find interest in the traditional fields of knowledge (law, religion and medicine) who delves deep into the dark arts and to make a pact with the Devil, selling his soul in exchange for 24 years of godlike powers. 24 years of fame and success followed by eternal damnation. 

Black and existential in its original form, here Marlowe's play is given a more cynically contemporary twist as Colin Teevan introduces new texts that connect today’s transient and trashy pop culture with the moral vacuum Faust makes for himself. 

The result is  fascinating, disturbing and at the same time farcically ironic, like a delirious post-hangover nightmare. The barely-dressed actors inhabit Soutra Gilmour’s stage as already-damned souls, occasionally with an unbearable tension much like the slow-motion protagonists of a Bill Viola video, at other times simply with aggressive violence.

Kit Harington plays a young Faustus, in possession of both human frailty and ingenuity. His pact with Lucifer however is firmly set in the 21st century, with our anti-hero seeking TV celebrity rather than the traditional order of regular superpowers. No longer a scholar, he becomes a magician like David Copperfield or Dynamo, desperate for popularity. Faustus’ longing for a show in Vegas reveals the height of his ambition: we're not in 1592 anymore and people’s deepest desires have changed. 

Harington, albeit looking more comfortable delivering the modern sections by Teevan than the originals, convinces as the easily-duped Faustus. The real strengths of this production however lie with Jenna Russell’s Mephistopheles and Forbes Masson as Lucifer. Russell’s performance is magnificent, part demonic seductress and part talent agent. Her ability to convey the suffocating love/hate relationship with Faustus – Who is really the master, who the servant? – is outstanding. In her nightgown, with her short hair, Russell remains the powerful central focus of her scenes and don't linger too long in the bar either - her on-stage singing towards the end of the interval is an infernally ingenious treat.

Masson shines as a sardonic and auto-ironic Lucifer, dangerously mellifluous more than straightforwardly intimidating and a nod too to Tom Edden for his representation of the seven deadly sins. Helped by Jon Clark’s lighting, his is a spectacular transformation through the sins. 

It certainly makes for a stimulating night at the theatre. Lloyd and Gilmour have a well-established partnership that leads to stunning visuals, usually supported by outstanding performances. Russell is fabulous, Harington’s Faustus is likely to be best enjoyed by his fans.  

Runs until June 25th.

Reviewed by Simona Negretto

Photo credit: Marc Brenner