Jeff Harnar - Does This Song Make Me Look Fat?

Crazy Coqs, London

***

Jeff Harnar

Jeff Harnar may have started his life on the West Coast, but in his Crazy Coqs’ week-long residency, amusingly titled “Does This Song Make Me Look Fat?”, we meet a man who is unquestionably a product of New York City. His childhood recollections of the view down Broadway from the top of the Empire State Building, through to memories of meeting Sammy Cahn backstage at Carnegie Hall give the night a lifeblood that is derived from the city’s glittering theatricality.

Before his cabaret career took off, Harnar worked as a singing waiter at an Upper West Side restaurant where night after night, he would be elbowed into repeated renditions of Kander and Ebb’s New York, New York. Decades later and now internationally-renowned, he delivers a fresher take on the bombastic ditty. “Don’t get me wrong”, he pleads with over-inflated sincerity as he warms his audience up for the classic number, “It’s not a bad song – the first 10,000 times” and in his affectionately mocking rewrite of the legendary lyrics, we can see his dedication to the genre.

On form however, the man is a treat. As he blazes through glittering show-tunes including My Personal Property and Lonely Town, never dropping his broad smiling facade, we discover that Harnar is a clever negotiator who can juggle his expansive appreciation for New York with an adoring cynicism. To Musical Director Nathan Martin’s tinkering piano, the crooner extracts roaring laughter from his crowd and later, as he screams, riffs and cavorts in a spirit of well-balanced insincerity, he captures the pulse of a fickle town where both everybody and nobody can feel at home. Yes, these musical garments have their dropped stitches, but as Harnar dwells so calmly on the glittery surface of cabaret while teasing us with glimpses at the erudite foundations of his art, his show makes for a strong tribute to both his artform and his city. The show is not yet flawless with Harnar sometimes veering onto uncomfortable ground, blurring the boundaries between ‘nostalgic’ and ‘outmoded’. “Isn’t it quaint and charming how dated these records are?” he enthuses whilst over-indulgently thumbing through a pile of LPs that are possibly long past their Best Before date.

Ultimately we find that the night is marked by a learned appreciation of and a respect for, the cabaret form, that buzzes with a tightly-polished mischievous spirit. Harnar’s stage persona is as glitzy and sharply constructed as the city that inspires him and, fittingly for a show of this name – which sees the performer “trying on some new material, to see if it fits” – his set list is as deliciously frivolous as a shopping spree in Macy’s. Sparkling cabaret, delivered by a man who truly knows his craft.

In residency until 1st March

Guest reviewer: Milly Raleigh

The A-Z Of Mrs P

Southwark Playhouse, London

***

Book by Diane Samuels

Music & lyrics by Gwyneth Herbert

Directed by Sam Buntrock

Isy Suttie

The A-Z Of Mrs P is a charming show that tells of the birth of London's A-Z, in song. For those who remember navigating the city before the digital age, the eponymous book was everywhere and even today its graphics still power many online map sites.

The human tale behind the map is a grand fable. Hungarian emigre Alexander Gross having mapped New York, saw the potential in similarly charting the streets of London. Marrying local girl Bella, it was their artist daughter Phyllis who was to step up to the challenge of recording the capital's streets and mind-bogglingly, indexing them too. We see Gross as an outwardly callous man. A visionary maybe but a selfish womaniser, ruthlessly focused on profit. When his marriage collapses he retuns to America as Bella loses her mind and against this turmoil, Phyllis remains steadfast, capturing the streets of her Lovely London Town (a gorgeous song) and with the help of a sage draughtsman, creating the iconic guide. Struggling with huge family pressures, the A-Z is to prove not not only her guide, but also the purpose to her life.

Isy Suttie of television shows Peep Show and Shameless is Phyllis, the Mrs P (for Pearsall) of the title. Embodying this eccentric yet tenacious and compassionate woman, Suttie's acting is on point throughout, well reflecting a woman who is to witness her mother's mental collapse as well as endure her father's cruel commercial envy. A plane crash was to cripple Phyllis in her later years and Suttie subtly evokes the onset of frailty, played out through sensitivity rather than stereotype. The show however does bear a hint of “stunt-casting”. This is the actress’ brave debut into musical theatre and one cannot help but wonder if the producers selected her (in part) on the strength of her significant Twitter following, rather than musical ability. Suttie is not helped by the show's sprawling structure which at times demands an A-Z of its own. The narrative jumps distractingly in and out of flashback and its nascent flaws demand the spine-tingling vocal impact of an established musical theatre leading lady, one that is able to pull the audience along with an inspirational performance however shaky the plot may be at times. 

Whilst the fable may not be fabulous, many performances are. Called upon to play yet another flamboyant European, Michael Matus is Alexander. Assured throughout, Matus is a vocal Rolls Royce of his generation. He cruises smoothly through the lower ranges of his role, yet can effortlessly shift through the gears, producing a powerful and when necessary, menacing sound that fills the traverse theatre. He deftly tackles the paradox of his paternal love for Phyllis conflicting with his profound resentment and envy of her commercial flair. Frances Ruffelle plays the fragile and damaged Bella. Vocally her distinctive tone and timbre is well suited to the troubled woman and her transition from coquettish Nippy, to worn-down wife is executed perfectly. Stuart Matthew Price charms as Phyllis' brother Tony, but not for the first time we find that this beautifully voiced actor is barely given a song to sing.

All of the ensemble shine, with veteran Sidney Livingstone in particular providing a range of charming cameos, never more delightful than as kindly draughtsman Mr Fountain, whilst Sarah Earnshaw deploys her sharply honed West End skills in a range of roles.

The A-Z Of Mrs P is beautifully intentioned and homely, but ever so slightly muddled. Herbert has composed a handful of enchanting melodies, though her lyrics and rhyme could be sharper. Nick Winston's movement work cleverly captures a spirit of London together with key events of the city’s 20th century history, whilst Klara Zeiglerova's set deploys numerous front doors and countless suspended curios, to suggest the Herculean task that Pearsall faced. Unquestionably innovative theatre, with moments of stunning stagecraft.

Runs until 29th March

Picture by Jane Hobson

Big Bad Wolves - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

****

Composed by Frank Ilfman

The mark of a really great horror movie is its soundtrack. Whilst all fictional feature films require our disbelief to be suspended, fantasy stories or genres such as horror require that degree of suspension, or burden of proof, to be considerably higher. Burst the fragile bubble of that illusion with a hammed up performance, sloppy continuity or worst of all sound that is jerky or distracting and the magic is gone. Key to the soundtrack is of course the score and in Big Bad Wolves Frank Ilfman delivers a suite of compositions that perfectly complements the work that is going on both in front of and behind the camera.

Big Bad Wolves is a revenge tale with moments of emotional agony, horrific torture and suspense. The opening sequence presents innocent children playing hide and seek. Harmless stuff until one little girl disappears. Throughout this introduction not a word is spoken save for the gleeful noises of kids at play yet behind these traditional carefree images Ilfman's score pulses. It is the composer's talent that suggests the impending menace and whilst film directors Navot Papushado and Aharon Keshales convey convincing suspense, it is Ilfman’s work that ensures our minds are tricked into believing that what we see on screen is terrifyingly real.

Melodies are sharpened with some jarring brass work and there is a hint of John Williams that is suggested in some of the movie’s recurring motifs, most notably in the menace that surrounds the alleged killer and in the typically-Jewish mother-son guilt that is wreaked upon the victim’s vengeful father by his own meddling mother (the murdered girl’s grandmother). This thread of Semitic guilt and vengeance that runs through the movie evokes just a hint of the haunting riff that Williams wove through Schindler’s List.

Ilfman understands working with Papushado and Keshales. He scored their “out of left field” debut feature Rabies that put Israeli horror on the map and is working with the pair again on their segment of The ABCs Of Death 2. Big Bad Wolves however marks a contribution to a feature film that has earned worldwide acclaim. It is a hauntingly scored movie and for a tale that touches upon suspense, dark comedy and gory horror before concluding in a moment of achingly bleak despair, Ilfman serves the narrative well. His album is beautifully crafted collection of work that suits the modern genre. 

The CD can be purchased here

Before The Night Is Through

Landor Theatre, London

****

Book and lyrics by Olivia Thompson

Music by Christopher Whitehead

Directed by Rob McWhir

Kieran Brown points an accusatory finger

Before The Night Is Through has the potential to be a fine piece of British musical theatre. Part Downton Abbey on acid, part Punchdrunk's The Drowned Man, Olivia Thompson has fashioned a murder mystery set in the mansion of a 1930s film star, Honey Quenelle. The first half in particular shows immense promise, motives and macguffins abound with the strength of this production lying in the stellar talent of its cast. All ten performers flap with utter aplomb, whilst special tribute to Thompson herself who stepped in to fill the breach at the last minute after a cast member became indisposed.

The show is more caricature than character, with Katie Brennan's Mabel, a maid-servant clearly inspired by Baldrick and Ian Mowat's penniless aristocrat Stubby, particularly well crafted comic creations. Amelia Adams Pearce is every inch the refined Honey, defining the elegance of the era, whilst Kieran Brown's dashing detective has a cracking number A Very Touching Story, that shows the actor at his best. Jenny Gayner's flapper Farmonica is an outrageously manic creation of perfect balance and sublime comic timing, who at times suggested a 21st century Bette Davis. Gayner’s performance was only enhanced by an unplanned jewellery malfunction giving rise to a stunning pearl necklace spillage, truly something not often seen on London's fringe.

Rob McWhir again extracts the best from a talented bunch and most of Cressida Carre's choreography works too, though the torchlit dances lost their gimmick second time around. The creative star of the show however is Chris Whitehead (who also musically directs on piano) whose well created compositions were an accurate take on the era. There was a hint of ragtime and charleston to some of his melodies as well as a fabulous waltz whilst the vocal harmonies that ranged from two to eight part are exquisite. As it stands though, the show is very much a work in progress and Thompson needs to take a scalpel to her second act. It's a complicated plot that unfolds, at times too complicated and a twenty minute trim wouldn't go amiss.

But bravo to Katy Lipson for mounting the From Page To Stage season. This is precisely the sort of well crafted work that is to be encouraged and a revised, honed version of Before The Night Is Through could yet have a commercial future.

Runs until 23rd February

Ray Shell - Back To Black

The Pheasantry, London

*****

Looking younger than his years Ray Shell skates through the decades of a remarkable career on stage in his cabaret Back To Black, in residence at Chelsea's Pheasantry for this week only. Few other performers define the crossover between soul and musical theatre as does this man and like fine molasses, the resonance of his gloriously weighted tone fills the intimate basement venue. When he sings Friends from Sweeney Todd you only wish that the show could be re-staged with Shell as the barber, it is the most gorgeous sound.

That his set list includes nods to Hair as well as to Kate Bush (no intended connection with that link but 70s savvy folk will see what I did there) is a mark of the man. When Shell sings What A Piece Of Work Is Man from Hair, (itself one of the few Shakespeare soliloquies to have made it into a rock musical), his take on the song, as with so many of his numbers, is exquisite. In recent years Shell has featured in The Lion King and The Bodyguard, neither of which are referenced in the show, but it was his creation of the steam engine Rusty in Andrew Lloyd Webber's Starlight Express that sealed his reputation on this side of the pond. Throughout Shell’s patter is warm and informative, frequent references to Starlight Express (he reveals that a skating double was used for Rusty's races around the theatre, while he stayed firmly on the level backstage) lead into his closing number of the night, the show's title song that sees his magnificent tenor reach extend into a fine falsetto. For those who recall the opening of that crazy dangerous show at the Apollo Victoria, the moment is a spine-tingling trip back in time some 30 years!

Other highlights are an a-capella take on the Gospel classic (and Parade inclusion) There Is A Fountain Filled With Blood, whilst his cover of The King Of Pain and Wrapped Around Your Finger, reminds us that the man's craft is timeless. Sting made the songs famous and Shell (who toured with The Police as a backing singer) re-interprets them with panache. Guest slots from Chardel Rhodean and Anthony Barclay provide a modest contrast as Shell joins his three backing singers in their support, but it is “Soul Man” Shell who defines the night.

Paul Jenkins directs a slick three piece musical accompaniment to the night and toes tap throughout the room as Shell, sporting Jonathan Pryce’s Engineer shirt from Miss Saigon, encores with a beautifully toned cover of Amy Winehouse’s title song for his show. A newcomer to London’s cabaret scene, (Shell confessed that this was the first time he had performed Starlight Express off roller skates) the star quality of his set demands that he returns soon. Barely scratching the vast repertoire of his career, there is simply so much more we want to hear from him. Back To Black is a rare chance to hear an exceptional voice, not to be missed.

Runs until 22nd February

A Taste Of Honey

National Theatre, London

****

Written by Shelagh Delaney

Directed by Bijan Sheibani

Kate O'Flynn

The 2014 season at the National Theatre could arguably be renamed “Unhappy Families, A Study On Parents And Daughters”. Whilst the Lear dynasty rages at each other in the Olivier, a far more recognisable family of modern Britons has lodged in the Lyttleton. Shelagh Delaney's A Taste Of Honey is her 1958 debut that paints a bleak tale of single parenthood in Salford, Lancashire.

It's a carefully crafted piece of theatre, all the more remarkable for having been penned by the 19 year-old Delaney who hailed from a working class Manchester background. In a literary era still dominated by a privileged patriarchy, that her work prevailed at all was due to the playwright’s nurturing by the remarkable Joan Littlewood. The play was first seen on the Theatre Royal stage at Stratford East and that Littlewood’s Oh What A Lovely War is currently in revival there, speaks volumes for the older woman’s theatrical energy and vision.

A Taste of Honey pivots around school-aged Josephine (Jo) and her mother Helen. Kate O'Flynn is Jo, giving a career defining performance that portrays the feisty girl who has never been shown maternal love, from petulant teenager through to the brink of motherhood. O'Flynn is at once naive, worldly and coquette. When her mother is besotted with latest suitor Peter, it is Jo‘s radar that detects the man is a serial cheating womaniser. When Jo does ultimately find an unconditional love from gay friend Geoffrey, O'Flynn's handling of her affection for the young man avoids all mawkish sentimentality. Hers is a complex role and in one of the finest performances currently to be found in London, she masters Jo's challenges superbly.

Lesley Sharp is Helen. Bitter and hard, more concerned with having a man in her arms than her daughter's welfare. Sharp is an expert foil to O'Flynn's teenage angst and her desperate love for her dishonest boyfriend could almost be pitiful. Delaney however is too smart to allow us any sympathy for the self-centred harridan and her final act of selfish cruelty towards her daughter is heart-breaking. 

The support given by Harry Hepple's gold-hearted Geoffrey to the pregnant Jo has moments of true pathos, whilst Dean Lennox Kelly makes Peter every inch the drunken manipulative spiv. Jimmie, the father of Jo's child is a black sailor, fecklessly home on shore leave. The play is famed for addressing the issue of British racism at the time with the challenges that Jo will soon face as the white mother of a black child, yet these are only hinted at during the second act and the play’s unsatisfactory conclusion tests the limits of plausibility. That’s the only flaw mind, for otherwise Delaney’s writing is spot on. Eric Kofi Abrefa could make more of Jimmie. He recently shone in the National's The Amen Corner and Kofi Abrefa has more in the tank that can lift the seaman free of the cliché he currently suggests.

The back to back housing of a rain drenched industrial Manchester is cleverly evoked in Hildegard Bechtler’s design with a striking curtain image setting the scene pre-show. Our nation has moved on in 56 years. Illegitimacy is acceptable and though racism and homophobia still flourish in some quarters, much has been done to broaden the country’s attitudes towards diversity. A Taste Of Honey represents quality writing of a bygone era, with a memorable performance from O’Flynn. The NT would do well to send this one on tour, the regions deserve to see it.

Now booking until May 11th 2014

The Cement Garden

The Vault Festival, London

****

Written by Ian McEwan

Adapted by David Aula and Jimmy Osborne

Directed by David Aula

Ruby Bentall, David Annen and Georgia Clarke-Day

Ian McEwan is a remarkable storyteller. He takes the darkest aspects of the human condition and magnifies them into the grotesque, the particular horror of The Cement Garden being the sexual explorations of incestuous siblings whose mother lies rotting in the cellar. One of McEwan’s earliest novels, this adaptation has preserved all that was fragile, tender and unspeakably vile in the oeuvre.

Where all families have their issues, the parents in this tale along with their clutch of three teenage kids and a much-later arrived toddler define dysfunctionality. Dad’s emotional cruelty towards the children is evident, whilst mum cannot help but blur the boundaries between what is right and wrong as she clumsily advises elder son Jack (George Mackay) into puberty. The parents’ early death, dad’s unexplained though with a hint of suspicious circumstances and mum’s through cancer sets the four kids adrift with no moral compass. Fearful of being taken into care as orphans they hide their mother’s death and bury her in the cellar. As the misguided feelings develop between Jack and elder sister Julie (Ruby Bentall) the ghastly spectre of perverted values cascading through the generations is clearly signalled.

None of this makes for easy watching, either from an emotional or physical perspective. Crammed on benches we arch our necks to capture the action and dialog that takes place on gangways above, as well as on the vault’s stone floor. The infant Tom is an inspired piece of stagecraft. Represented by a wicker puppet and brilliantly voiced and animated by David Annen, we quickly forget the puppeteer and wince at the distorted development the young child is exposed to. Mackay and Bentall are chillingly plausible teenagers who amidst jealousy, hormonal acne and a growing sexual awareness, grope their way towards their nauseating consummation. The incessant rumble of trains above the Vault only adds to the tale's infernal atmosphere.

Aula and Osborne's adaptation has reached the end of a seven year development. It is fine theatre that makes for a compelling if unpleasant evening.