Hercules - Review

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London

**

Music by Alan Menken

Lyrics by David Zippel

Book by Robert Horn and Kwame Kwei-Armah

Directed and choreographed by Casey Nicholaw

Luke Brady

Rarely does a show descend from the pantheon of animated Hollywood class to the underworld of live-action West End mediocrity, but so it is with the legend of Disney’s Hercules that sees a gloriously witty movie regress into an evening of overpriced tedium.

It is hard to know where to rest the blame for this Herculean disappointment. Does it lie with Robert Horn and Kwame Kwei-Armah for their luke-warm, cliche-riddled book? Or with Casey Nicholaw for sloppily helming an overly camped-up show that is riddled with wardrobe and prop malfunctions? Or with James Ortiz and Dane Laffrey’s designs whose clunky depictions of beasts and monsters appear to have learned nothing from the puppetry genius of The Lion King? Or with Jeff Croiter’s lighting design that incredibly (for a stage as large as Drury Lane’s) dispenses with follow-spot operators, relying instead on pre-programmed lighting plots that frequently fail to illuminate their subject? 

Mostly the acting is strong - Luke Brady goes the distance in the title role, looking and sounding dutifully divine. Mae Ann Jorolan as Meg makes fine work of her solo numbers, while the five Gospel-infused Muses are a blast. Trevor Dion Nicholas reliably turns in a decent shtick as Phil, Hercules’s guide on his path to godliness.

The biggest casting disappointment however lies in Stephen Carlile’s Hades. James Woods’ 1997 voicing of Disney’s original Hades was an inspired delivery of the sharpest satire and to be fair, a devilishly tough act to follow. Carlile emasculates this most infernal of bad-guys, reducing him to a poorly performed pantomime villain. 

Alan Menken’s two strong compositions, Go The Distance and Zero to Hero support act one. The second half offers nothing that’s hummable, in a show that (almost) takes Disney’s Hercules from hero to zero.

Booking until 28th March 2026

Photo credit: Matt Crockett

Pippin - Review

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London

****

Music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz

Book by Roger O. Hirson

Directed by Jonathan O'Boyle

Patricia Hodge

In what was quite possibly the finest vocal interpretation of this show to be heard on this side of the Atlantic, Stephen Schwartz’s Pippin played to a packed Theatre Royal Drury Lane for two nights only.

Written in the 1970s as part-allegory against the Vietnam War, Pippin is a curious work that was never to achieve commercial success in the West End. Unquestionably a show of two-halves, act one is a magnificent pastiche of the medieval court of Charlemagne with grand romance, intrigue and glamour and some of Schwartz’s finest compositions. The second half in contrast tails off into a quirky domestic love story that lacks voltage and excitement. One can understand how, outside musical theatre enthusiasts, the show has failed to gain traction in front of large-scale British audiences.

All that being said, the cast that Jonathan O’Boyle has assembled for this concert production were sensational. Jac Yarrow stepped up to the title role and from his sublime handling of Corner Of The Sky early in the show, his credentials were defined. Alex Newell is flown in from the USA to take on the challenging role of Leading Player. Newell brings charisma and strength to a part that demands pinpoint timing alongside strong vocal presence and delivers magnificently. Zizi Strallen plays Fastrada, Pippin’s scheming stepmother. Strallen only knows world-class performance values and her balletic take on the evil queen is sensational. She also knocks her big solo, Spread A Little Sunshine straight out of the park.

The evening’s biggest delight however is in Patricia Hodge’s take on Berthe, Pippin’s elderly grandmother. Her number No Time At All is perhaps the most glorious celebration of life to be found in the entire musical theatre canon. Hodge delivers the song and its singalong chorus to note-perfect precision, with a power that belies her years. Lucie Jones is given the spotlight after the interval as Catherine, Pippin’s love interest. Jones of course is flawless in her singing but she’s battling against a storyline that defies credibility.

The production’s choreography was ambitious in its Fosse-tribute intentions - but while the dancers’ talents were unquestioned, they needed far more rehearsal time to pull off Fosse, well. 

Never say never, but it is unlikely that Pippin will ever sound as good in London as what O’Boyle has achieved at Drury Lane this week. A neat touch saw a 50-strong choir of ArtsEd’s finest adding impressive vocal heft throughout the evening. Equally Chris Ma’s directing of the London Musical Theatre Orchestra was spot-on throughout.

Pippin’s 50th anniversary concert production was a memorable musical theatre treat.

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Wild About You - Review

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London

**

Music & lyrics by Chilina Kennedy

Book by Eric Holmes

Directed by Nick Winston

Rarely have such a platinum-plated cast delivered a tale of such unfathomable mediocrity.

All of the actors Eric McCormack, Rachel Tucker, Oliver Tompsett, Tori Allen-Martin, Jamie Muscato and Todrick Hall are vocally magnificent, representing the cream of British (McCormack excluded) musical theatre talent. Nick Barstow’s 10-piece band are fabulous too.

It is just that Eric Holmes’ book and Chilina Kennedy’s lyrics are the shallowest cliche-fest to have made a West End stage in many a year.  Olivia (Tucker) wakes up in a hospital ward as the curtain rises, with her memory wiped. The show then begins an exploration of her piecing together the reconstruction of her life. Frankly, it may well have been a better story if she’d stayed asleep.

The second act is a shameless steal from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Carousel, albeit without that pair’s creative genius. The actors are left with little to do other than (beautifully) sing songs that it is impossible to care about.

Thankfully only on for 2 nights, Wild About You is over now.

Handel's Messiah The Live Experience - Review

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London

*

The production's dancers, orchestra, choir and projection

He’s not the Messiah, he’s a very naughty boy. 

Or to be specific Gregory Batsleer the Artistic Director of Classical Everywhere and conductor of tonight’s Messiah is a very naughty boy. He has taken Handel’s work, a piece of exquisite beauty that to be fair is performed by his musicians to a fabulous standard and wrapped it in the mediocrity of migraine-inducing projections and pretentious dance and poetic add-ones.

The English Chamber Orchestra and London Symphony Chorus, together with the evening’s four soloists are all magnificent and beyond criticism. However, in a ridiculously self-indulgent programme note, Batsleer takes it upon himself to make classical music respond “to the times in which we live”. If this production is an interpretation of making music respond to the present day then Batsleer needs to take a long hard look at himself.

The Theatre Royal Drury Lane may be a work of architectural magnificence, and after Andrew Lloyd-Webbers magnificent refurbishment, a comfortable venue too, but its acoustics do not lend themselves to major choral presentations. And quite why Martina Laird and Arthur Darvill were rolled out, complete with Mad Max costumes, to spout obscure blank verse that they hadn’t even been able to memorise (unlike the magnificent soloists) is a modern Mystery tale,

And then there was Tom Jackson Greaves’ choreography, funnelled into a narrow gap between the on-stage orchestra and Drury Lane’s pit. The movement was clearly precisely rehearsed and delivered by talented dancers, but it bore no apparent relevance to Messiah and together with the ghastly projections, served not to complement but to distract from Handel’s genius.

The evening’s musical money-shot was duly delivered with aplomb, as half of the audience rose (almost akin to a pantomime singalong slot) as the other half scratched their heads in bewilderment, to salute the famed Hallelujah Chorus.

This production sees one of the canon’s most magnificent works reduced to a pound-shop opera. A Christmas turkey.

Heathers The Musical - Review

Theatre Royal Haymarket, London


***


Book, Music and Lyrics by Kevin Murphy and Laurence O’Keefe 
Directed by Andy Fickman

Carrie Hope Fletcher and Jamie Muscato

Following a sold-out run at The Other Palace earlier this year, there’s been a lot of hype surrounding Heathers the Musical, with a strong fandom out in force and social media buzzing with (mostly) glowing comments. Based on the cult 1988 film written by Daniel Waters and starring Winona Ryder and Christian Slater, Heathers is a dark and entertaining tale of teenage angst, love and quest for popularity and arrives at its new home at the Theatre Royal Haymarket with high expectations all round.

For many teenagers high school is a time of angst and self-doubt and that’s certainly no different for Veronica Sawyer (Carrie Hope Fletcher), a teenage nobody who desperately dreams of ditching the bullies and fitting in at Westerberg High. Thanks to her knack of forging hall passes she’s soon taken in by three of the most popular (and cruellest) girls in school, The Heathers, although she finds out that popularity is not all it’s cracked up to be. She meets new boy in town, Jason ‘J.D.’ Dean, unaware that her relationship with the outcast will have grave consequences for everyone. 

Directed by Andy Fickman, Heathers is a dark musical packed full of humour and memorable numbers, with impressive choreography by Gary Lloyd, a versatile set (designed by David Shields) and enviable costumes to whisk you straight back to the 80s. 

While there is a realism in the show’s portrayal of teenage desperation for popularity, there are moments when it all feels deeply unsettling. The narrative brushes with sensitive topics including teenage suicide, sexual assault and high school killings that sit awkwardly when contrasted with the real-life tragedy of such events.

Fletcher lives up to expectations, delivering a misguided Veronica who is endearing yet flawed. Her performance is strong throughout in both acting and song, especially when she belts out Dead Girl Walking. Equally impressive is Jamie Muscato as the dry-humoured, troubled psychopath J.D, and the pair have great chemistry, as evidenced during their duet Seventeen. They’re both supported by a strong cast including Jodie Steele, T’Shan Williams and Sophie Isaacs as Heathers Chandler, Duke and McNamara respectively. Despite the cruelness of their characters, the trio are given one of the show’s catchiest songs, Candy Store. There is memorable work too from Jenny O’Leary as Martha, Veronica’s kind-hearted childhood best friend, with her sweetly sung number Kindergarten Boyfriend sure to tug at heart strings.

Despite its flaws, this is a technically well delivered show that is likely to be popular amongst die-hard fans and newcomers alike.

Runs until 24th November

Reviewed by Kirsty Herrington

Photo credit: Tristram Kenton

How The Other Half Loves - Review

Theatre Royal Haymarket, London


***

Written by Alan Ayckbourn
Directed by Alan Strachan

Matthew Cottle and Gillian Wright

Written before he had become one of the nation's most prolific playwrights, yet as ever focusing upon his hallmark theme of domestic dysfunctionality, How The Other Half Loves is Alan Ayckbourn's 1969 effort, viewed through the prism of well-performed comedy.

Fuelled by differences in class and alongside marital infidelity that spans the social strata, the young and argumentative Teresa and Bob Philips (Tamzin Outhwaite and Jason Merrells) live modestly whilst the older Frank and Fiona Foster (Nicholas Le Prevost and Jenny Seagrove) enjoy a more privileged lifestyle. This being Ayckbourn however, Bob is having an affair with Fiona and thrown into the mix are the dull and dim Featherstones (William and Mary played by Matthew Cottle and Gillian Wright respectively) who have no idea that they’re being used as scape goats to hide the sordid carryings on. 

For the most part the book is well thought out. Mistaken suspicions are cleverly managed to comical and catastrophic results, with occasional moments of perfectly timed slapstick only enhancing the humour. But while there's much energy on display, the ending disappoints, feeling a little weak and somewhat rushed and almost doing a disservice to the preceding hilarity. The lengthy curtain drops between scene changes don't help, with the frequent halts dissipating dramatic momentum. 

Le Prevost, Wright and Cottle are all on top form. Le Prevost’s embodiment of a Blithering older gentleman with a constant misunderstanding of what’s been said to him brings the audience to its knees with roaring hilarity. He shows a believable stereotype that continues to surprise and is extremely enjoyable to watch. Wright’s Mary is shy and understated, with a masterclass performance in how to use pauses to full effect and a wonderful collaboration on stage with Cottle, who embodies a warm awkwardness on stage that one could watch for hours.

Alan Strachan's direction is choreographed to perfection with pinpoint timing and movement, delivering an Ayckbourn revival that is fun to watch and which refreshingly restores some old school charm to the theatre.

Runs until 25th June
Reviewed by Charlotte Darcy
Photo credit: Alistair Muir

Harvey - Review

Theatre Royal Haymarket, London

****

Written by Mary Chase

Directed by Lindsay Posner

Maureen Lipman and James Dreyfus

There are few shows in town more charming than Lindsay Posner's re-working of this 1940's all-American fable. Widowed Veta Simmons lodges with her daughter in the home of her wealthy brother Elwood P Dowd. Yet much is amiss, for as Simmons strives to keep up a genteel facade of normality, Dowd's closest confidante is Harvey, an invisible giant rabbit and much of the play hinges upon the anguish that his behaviour causes to his loved ones. 

This parable of the savant, who in today's jargon would be classified as somewhere on the autistic spectrum and yet who sees his world with a clarity denied his fellows, has already been explored in Rain Man and Forrest Gump. Yet Chase’s Pulitzer Prize-winner preceded those modern classics by some decades and as her Harvey lifts the curtain on a petty-minded small town, so we see Dowd's noble and chivalrous pursuit of all that is good in life, shine out as a beacon amongst his morally flawed peers, all signed up to the rat-race.

James Dreyfus is Dowd bringing a comic pathos to a beautifully created character. We laugh at the witty excellence of his performance though with a compassionate chuckle rather than the poking of cruel fun at a Bedlam lunatic. Dreyfus convinces us of his belief in Harvey and at the same time plays the straightest of bats as his (and the company's) pinpoint timing sees the plot's farcical elements unfold delightfully.

Opposite Dreyfus is Maureen Lipman's Veta. Amongst the best actors of her generation, Lipman commands our sympathy as she strives to find a suitor for Myrtle Mae her grown daughter, whilst supporting her brother's mental frailty. We feel her frustration at the difficulties she has to manage, yet at the finale we almost weep at the loving compassion she shows her sibling. Powerful stuff indeed, although glossing over the physical abuse Veta inadvertently suffers in the local sanitarium, as comedy rather than the ghastly brutality that it truly represents, is perhaps the script's only flaw. It was to be another thirty years before Jack Nicholson's Randle P. McMurphy in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest was to define how the cruelty of mental institutions should truly be portrayed.

Dreyfus and Lipman lead a marvellous troupe. Ingrid Oliver's Myrtle Mae nails the awkward self-centredness of a girl on the cusp of womanhood, whilst Sally Scott's psychiatric Nurse Kelly is a clever portrayal of cutely cognisant compassion. David Bamber is psychiatrist Dr Chumley, a medic who undergoes a Damascene conversion of his own with Bamber giving the complex role the comic mania it deserves. The play's endgame sees Linal Haft, in a tiny role, play a cab driver whose revelatory monologue moves both hearts and minds. (And those eagle-eyed and over 40 may recall Haft’s Melvyn, the much put-upon son to Lipman's Beattie in the BT 1980s ad campaign.) 

Peter McKintosh's set displays an ingenious elegance as interlocking revolves shift the action between home and clinic, whilst meticulous design in both costume and wigs set the time and tone perfectly.

Old fashioned for sure and with American accents that occasionally grate, the show is a curiosity of a production, but nonetheless bravo to the Birmingham Rep and its co-producers for having taken it on the road. When late into the second act, as Dowd reveals that during his lifetime he has known what it is to be “smart” as well as what it is to be profoundly pleasant, it is with a moving wisdom that he reports (and we feel chastened), that "being pleasant" is nicer. An allegory with the feel-good warmth of an adult fairy tale, Harvey makes for excellent theatre performed by a fabulous cast.

Runs until 2nd May 2015

Taken At Midnight - Review

Theatre Royal Haymarket, Londom

****

Written by Mark Hayhurst

Directed by Jonathan Church

Penelope Wilton

Taken At Midnight is a carefully researched commentary on Germany during the early years of Hitler’s Chancellorship. The story based on true events, plays out through the eyes of Irmgard Litten whose lawyer son Hans, in 1931, successfully prosecuted Hitler for the thuggish pre-election behaviour of his Nazi Brownshirts. The play opens with Hans’ arrest two years later, on the night that the Reichstag was burned. Hitler is now in power and the arrest is revenge.

Penelope Wilton is Irmgard Litten in a performance that defines her as one of the greats. Committed to liberating her son from being drawn ever deeper into the belly of the Nazi beast, her journey is one of remarkable devotion. She plays the most lovingly committed of mothers, a woman who is simultaneously proud of her son’ principled resistance to the Nazis and at the same time desperate for him to betray his beliefs and lie to the regime, to save his skin. The paradox of her drama could not be more stark nor brutal and Hayhurst gives one of our finest actresses some of the most richly structured dialog of recent modern plays. Wilton’s performance alone demands that the play be seen.

As Hans, Martin Hutson is heartbreaking in his defiance. His performance sees his character be degraded from a presentable professional man to a concentration camp inmate wearing both the yellow star of the Jews, (his father was Jewish) and the red triangle of the political prisoners on that terrible striped camp uniform. From an able bodied man sustaining his beatings, through to a cripple, body broken yet mind intact, Hutson movingly plays out Litten’s destiny.

Hayhurst tells us about much of the everyday detail of the Nazi regime. John Light is Dr Conrad, the Gestapo captain responsible for Litten’s arrest and subsequent incarceration. His clinical detachment in executing his orders is as chilling as would be expected, but what disturbs even more is the chance meeting between him and Irmgard one sunny afternoon in a local park. Out of uniform the charming, chivalrous and refined Conrad offers Irmgard an ice cream, making for a powerful exposition of how the Nazi regime had become so woven into much of German society. Away from the park-bench though, Conrad's teeth are bared when later in the play he venomously expresses his hatred of the half-Jewish Hans. In another gem of a performance, David Yelland's Lord Clifford Allen economically represents Britain’s moral vacuity during its pre-war period of German appeasement.

There is no happy ending to Taken At Midnight, with Hayhurst’s work being historically brilliant even if a little pruriently melodramatic in some of the early torture scenes. The acting is riveting and Church's direction of this Chichester Festival Theatre production is on point throughout. Top notch theatre.

Runs to 14th March 2015