Idiots Assemble - Spitting Image - The Musical - Review

Phoenix Theatre, London

**

Written by Al Murray, Matt Forde and Sean Foley

Directed by Sean Foley

Vladimir Putin in Spitting Image - The Musical

Back in the 1980s Spitting Image was a ground-breaking TV series that brilliantly satirised the politicians and celebrities of the day with ingeniously caricatured latex puppets and scripts that mocked all. It was the time of Margaret Thatcher, in turn followed by John Major and it was also a time when to offend was a sacrosanct part of British comedy, political correctness having barely been invented.

Each episode of that show lasted for 30 minutes, short enough to keep writers on their toes with scripts and gags honed to razor-sharp accuracy and all rounded off each week with a punchy musical number that spoofed some hit record of the time with more top-notch irreverence. Peter Fluck and Roger Law were the series' sculpting geniuses whose eyes for ridiculing the great and the not-so-great was peerless. Law lends his name and his vision to this current iteration as Caricaturist Supremo and superficially at least, his inspired vision lingers on.

But a 30-minute blast of Spitting Image on the telly was to prove the medium’s perfect time slot. In a full blown West End musical, two hours proves to be too long to sustain what should otherwise be a series of brilliant jokes.

To be fair, the show’s first act has moments of platinum-plated comedy. The Royals (as was the case back in the day) get treated mercilessly by the writers, who even include an affectionately portrayed ghost of the late Queen Elizabeth II. The recently crowned King Charles III is royally ridiculed as are his sons, wife and brother Andrew and rightly so. Politicians from across the global political spectrum are on the production’s hit list, with a musical number from the Russian President, Putin On The Blitz (geddit?) being perhaps the evening’s lyrical triumph. The first half’s penultimate song has a latex Carrie Johnson leading a chorus of dancing six-foot phalli in All Men Think With Their Dicks, before a line-up of the Tory leadership sing Cabaret's chilling Tomorrow Belongs To Me while the aforementioned penises, complete with winking meatuses, ejaculate skeins of long white paper streamers before the half-time curtain falls. The smuttiest knob-gag in town, but very funny.

The second half however descends into a drawn-out charade of the already thinly-stretched plot-lines worsened by a political bias that transcends all satire and morphs into a tiresome, shallow rant. The musical's incongruous nods to the TV show's all grey John Major and all-powerful Thatcher characters were appreciated by the mostly greying audience, and the ghost-Queen’s closing number of Enjoy Yourself, It’s Later Than You Think was a neat touch, as was her being accompanied by Brian May. But they were too little, too late.

Script aside - the show is a work of impressive theatrical wizardry with the programme listing a massive technical crew. On stage in each performance, twelve puppeteers make the latex live, perfectly synching their movements to the pre-recorded dialogue and music and as should be the way with all good puppet-based shows, those dozen or so humans “disappear” from our conscious vision and we only see the characters they are animating. Equally Alexander Bermange has done a fine job with the show’s recorded backing music.

The bus pass brigade will likely enjoy this mostly anodyne fayre, but Spitting Image died a natural TV death a long time ago. It should have been allowed to rest in peace.

Runs until 26th August

Come From Away - Review

Phoenix Theatre, London

***

Music, lyrics and book by Irene Sankoff and David Hein

Directed by Christopher Ashley

Amidst the horrors of 9/11, there were pockets of human kindness and charity. So it was for the tiny Newfoundland town of Gander who when the United States' airspace was shut down after the four aircraft-based terrorist attacks, found itself having to accommodate 38 unexpected jetloads of passengers, comprising some 6,000+ souls (or “Come From Aways” as the locals call outsiders), for the best part of a week.

Such a flood of humanity was bound to throw up all sorts of issues ripe for a musical theatre treatment – and so it follows in Irene Sankoff’s and David Hein’s composition. Numerous threads emerge, including a love that evolves between two passengers and a neat little tale of a Gander local who realises that there were likely to have been animals travelling in the planes’ cargo holds and rescues as many as she can. Throughout the one-act show (that runs for under two hours) there’s much to warm the cockles of most of the hearts in the audience.

But for all the bitter-sweet vignettes, punches have been pulled. None of the grimmer or more tawdry aspects of what might have unfolded between 6,000 folk thrown together for 6 days (and nights) are explored and while the musical rightly highlights the shameful “othering” that one of the Come From Aways, a Muslim chef was subject to, it offers no comment whatsoever upon the ideology of hate that brought the 9/11 nightmare into being in the first place.

A sung-through piece, the numbers for the most part are tuneful yet forgettable – though that should not detract from the onstage excellence of both cast and band. A truly ensemble show, with no featured actors and all the performers listed alphabetically, standout work comes from Rachel Tucker as an airline pilot and the ever reliable Clive Carter playing all manner of wise and elderly characters. Noteworthy that all of the cast interchange between various roles throughout the evening, doing so convincingly and instantaneously in a flawless set of performances.

Flawless performances however do not necessarily make for a stimulating night. For while Gander’s generosity was unhesitating and generous, one might perhaps have expected the same response from any kind-hearted community around the world. One only has to witness the communal response say, to London’s recent Grenfell Tower tragedy or the outpourings of support that flood in for other disasters, to realise that the Newfoundland folk are not alone in their selflessness. And rallying to support the requirements of (even a few thousand) disoriented travellers, albeit from around the globe, doesn’t quite match up to the heroism say, of New York’s firefighters – many of whom gave the ultimate sacrifice on that most horrendous of days. 

Come From Away is unquestionably wonderfully performed, but its schmaltzy set pieces fail to move.


Now booking until 14th September
Photo credit:Matthew Murphy

Chicago - Review

Phoenix Theatre, London



****


Music, lyrics and book by John Kander & Fred Ebb
Directed by Walter Bobbie

Cuba Gooding Jnr.

Returning to London after some years, Chicago proves why it is one of the longest ever running revivals to still be playing on Broadway. Kander & Ebb’s genius lies in focusing on complex, troubling aspects of humanity and viewing them through the prism of satirical musical theatre. But where their other works (say Cabaret or The Scottsboro Boys) have an underlying horror that rightly pricks our consciences, Chicago's guilty pleasure is that much of its satire proves to be deliciously enjoyable.

The action mainly plays out in Illinois’ Cook County jail where female felon Velma Kelly (who had murdered her husband and his lover as they were caught in-flagrante) finds herself joined by new inmate Roxie Hart (who had shot her lover as he walked out on her). In their quest for liberty rather than the gallows, both women hire celebrity lawyer Billy Flynn to fight their case. Flynn in turn, much like a modern-day Mark Anthony (or should that be Max Clifford?) seeks to play to the public’s emotions and outcries by garnering as much press coverage as he can for his sensational clients in the hope of achieving their acquittal.

Over the years, and on both sides of the Atlantic, Chicago's producers have acquired a reputation for parachuting celebrities into leading roles, with little regard to their song or dance expertise, but rather with an eye on their ability to bring a different star quality to the show, as well as to get bums on seats. So it is here, with Hollywood leading man (and Oscar winner) Cuba Gooding Jnr making his West End debut as Billy Flynn. While Gooding Jnr may not have the finest voice, he delivers impact, presence and above all credibility to the smooth-talking shyster he portrays. The wicked twinkle that he brings to Flynn more than justifies the producers’ gamble in hiring him.

Elsewhere however there is musical theatre excellence as Josefina Gabrielle brings a sultry wisdom, alongside a vocal and physical athleticism to Velma. A veteran of the London show from the last time around (where she played Roxie), hers is an assured, delightful interpretation. Also back in the London show, Sarah Soetaert reprises her Roxie Hart in a solid performance that doesn’t disappoint.

The eye-opening casting, aside from Cuba Gooding Jnr., is Ruthie Henshall who completes a personal hat-trick with the show by playing jailer Mamma Morton. Seasons past have seen Henshall not only play Velma, but also be London's first ever Roxie when Chicago opened at the Adelphi Theatre in 1997. Henshall may not have quite the burlesque/statuesque presence that When You’re Good to Mamma demands, but her vocals are unsurpassed. She and Gabrielle make the duet Class, class.

There’s fun stuff too from Paul Rider as the ineptly cuckolded Amos Hart, jazz-handedly delivering Mister Cellophane to one of the evening’s loudest cheers.

Choreographed by Ann Reinking in the style of Bob Fosse, this staging which is now into its third decade, speaks of a world that is highly sexually charged. The costumes are provocative with both men and women (aside from the two male leads)scantily clad, in outfits outlining provocative sexuality. Recent months of course have seen sexual politics being radically re-evaluated, and against that backdrop it is interesting to consider Chicago's own distinct stance on the matter. Kelly, Hart and Flynn understand the power of sex, while the Cell Block Tango number is a celebration of women who (for the most part) have exacted righteous retribution on the disappointing or treacherous men in their life. It's a complex argument for sure but at least within its on-stage iteration, Chicago's women are victors rather than victims.  

Chicago remains fine Fosseian musical theatre. Strong story, stylish dance, and Kander & Ebb’s brilliant songs. Class, indeed.

Booking until 6th October

Photo credit: Tristram Kenton

The Girls - Review

Phoenix Theatre, London


****


Written by Gary Barlow and Tim Firth
Directed by Tim Firth

Claire Machin, Sophie-Louise Dann, Joanna Riding, Claire Moore, Debbie Chazen

Make of it what you will, but in less than as many years, the West End has showcased two new British musicals both of which have been inspired by the true stories of naked women being presented in provocative tableaux. While Mrs Henderson Presents may have been drawn from the Windmill Girls' wartime titillating tonic, Gary Barlow and Tim Firth’s The Girls is of a more classic vintage, savouring the sauce stirred up when the mostly mature membership of a northern branch of the WI (Women’s Institute) set out to raise funds for a local hospital by posing nude for a calendar.

The true story of the Rylstone & District WI is the stuff of modern-day legend, inspiring Firth to have previously scripted both its film and subsequent stage play treatment (each titled The Calendar Girls). But he and Barlow are two northern lads who’d grown up together and despite pursue differing career paths, had long harboured the dream of co-writing a show. It was to be Barlow’s mum who convinced them of The Calendar Girls' tuneful potential.

Musicals are nothing if they do not explore the human condition - and The Girls pulses with a humanity that touches almost everyone in the audience. That it is written to be performed by predominantly older women - a casting bracket so often woefully overlooked in today's industry – is a joy in itself. Even more impressively, in filling the show’s six featured roles, the producers have done well to assemble a troupe who represent the cream of their musical theatre generation.

Joanna Riding plays Annie whose husband John (James Gaddas) succumbs to cancer, sparking the fund-raising idea. Not just a remarkable, spine-tingling performance, Riding’s role, perhaps more than any other in the canon, is also that of playing everywoman on stage. Her song Kilimanjaro touching anyone who's been bereaved and it is with the most understated pathos that she portrays the grief that is both her devastation and motivation. Her early career saw Riding garner Olivier awards and nominations by the handful. This powerhouse turn will likely see her nominated again.

Alongside Riding is Claire Moore's Chris, the feisty local florist whose idea the calendar is. Moore is another timeless West End star of remarkable pedigree who commands the stage.

Firth and Barlow’s songs have a sweet simplicity with an occasional touch of genius in the lyrics, their opening number Yorkshire, being a stirring tribute to the county’s rugged charm. There may be occasional moments of trite silliness in the wit, but these are more than made up for by the company's sheer excellence. 

Sophie-Louise Dann, herself an accomplished diva, is sensational as Celia, a retired stewardess, whose number So I’ve Had A Little Work Done is a spot-on paean to plastic surgery. Michele Dotrice’s elderly Jessie is similarly outstanding with her feisty, poignant rebuke to the advance of years, What Age Expects. Likewise, Debbie Chazen and Claire Machin bring their own characters’ anxieties to hilarious, even if at times painfully well-observed relief.

The supporting cast fill modest roles with an unassuming charm, Gaddas bringing a caring, nuanced stoicism to his decline that’s never mawkish. Likewise Josh Benson and Chloe May Jackson are a comic delight as teenage schoolkids, simultaneously discovering love and thwarting their mothers’ high-flying expectations.

Richard Beadle’s band infuses the hummable score with verve, while Robert Jones’ design, an ingenious confection of drawers and doors, outlines both the glorious majesty of the Yorkshire Dales with a cosy and well-worn intimacy of the local village hall.

Above all, the strength of this musical lies in how it is played by this wonderful cast. Against the darkest of backdrops, The Girls not only touches our hearts with its tragedy, it celebrates a self-deprecating yet very British resilience that squares up to adversity. 

In what is a story for us all, The Girls makes for a magical night of musical theatre, performed to perfection.

Away from showbiz, the Rylstone women, who set out only to generate a very modest hospital donation, have gone on to raise nearly £5 million to date. A proportion of the show's receipts are being donated to the charity Bloodwise.

Now booking until 15th July

Photo credit: Matt Crockett, Dewynters

Guys and Dolls - Review

Phoenix Theatre, London

****

Music and lyrics by Frank Loesser
Book by Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows
Directed by Gordon Greenberg

The Guys from Guys and Dolls

The current London cast of Gordon Greenberg's Chichester production of Guys and Dolls, recently moved across town to the Phoenix Theatre, is a delight. This company's polished excellence give a delightful treatment of Frank Loesser's words and tunes, themselves a carefully crafted tribute to Damon Runyon's Broadway fables.

The move to the Phoenix itself was an an improbable 12-7, the London production having been planned to leave the Savoy and continue its tour around the UK. It was only upon seeing the warmth of the capital's reception that canny producers opted for the tour to spawn a continued London residency, before hitting the road.

There is an irresistible loveliness around these four leads. Over from America, Richard Kind is a wonderfully lugubrious Nathan Detroit. Kind nails the old promoter's romantic ineptitude as he struggles to find a home for his floating crap game. Beautifully expressive, in a suit that's deliberately cut just a size too large, there's a generous measure of a recognisable everyman in Kind’s comic creation.

Also new to the show is Samantha Spiro's Miss Adelaide. Spiro is all five of New York's boroughs rolled into one - and the shtick that she evolves with Kind is comedy gold. If her vocals may not be the finest, her acting through song is off the scale, including a revelatory nuance to Marry The Man Today (and this from a critic who's loved the show for 35 years). Elsewhere, Spiro’s Take Back Your Mink, all Marlene Dietrich for the first couple of verses before she Hollanderizes her voice into a magnificent Broadway belt for the closing stanzas, is a very guilty pleasure.

Siubhan Harrison is the only lead to have remained from the Savoy and like London’s springtime her Sarah Brown has blossomed magnificently. Of the story's leads, it is only Brown and Sky Masterson who truly evolve through the show discovering both each other and love. Harrison convinces with a touching poignancy as she struggles to resist Sky's charms, along with a glorious set of pipes. Back in Chichester, Clare Foster set Sergeant Sarah's bar very high and it is a joy to report that Siubhan Harrison's tambourine bashing mission doll more than rises to the occasion.

The final newcomer to the romantic quartet is Oliver Tompsett's mellifluous Masterson. Tompsett not only sounds perfect, he looks the part too (his cocked-trilby poise reminding me wistfully of 1982's Ian Charleson at the National). Cool yet ultimately crumbly, with Tompsett it’s all about the voice and the man is a treat to watch and listen to.

It's the lightly sketched details to Loesser's supporting ensemble, those citizens of his Runyonland that add the magic to a great Guys and Dolls and this company doesn't disappoint. Gavin Spokes' Nicely Nicely Johnson convinces as a sweaty water-buffalo in Sit Down You're Rocking The Boat, alongside Jason Pennycooke who delights as an ingeniously created Benny Southstreet.

The diminutive Cornelius Clarke offers up a pugnacious Harry The Horse, sitting well alongside an outsized (and perfectly cast understudy) Cameron Johnson as Big Jule, the Chicago mobster. And as it’s currently the season to celebrate under-recognised understudies, a nod too to Lavinia Fitzpatrick whose dancing as the Diva gave a fabulous contribution to the Cuba routine.

Andrew Wright's choreography alongside Carlos Acosta remains a highlight with both Cuba and the Crapshooters' Ballet pieces continue to offer flair and spectacle. In the pit, Gareth Valentine's work on the new orchestrations brings added sparkle to some wonderful Songbook stalwarts.

Guys and Dolls works best when it doesn't take itself too seriously - and it is truly the mark of an in-form company that a packed theatre can laugh at even the most modest of Loesser's gags. Chemistry? Hell yeah, chemistry! An un-ashamedly romantic, comic-book sketch of New York’s low-life, Guys and Dolls is a perfect evening's entertainment.


Booking to 30th October