The programme notes for this remarkable production of Midnight at the Never Get at the Menier feature a conversation between its writer, Mark Sonnenblick and its director, David Cromer, where they discuss whether there has ever been a musical show before that takes its content from the imaginary back catalogue of a fictional songwriter. Whether or not they know it, I’m not sure, but I was about ten minutes into the show when I was forcefully reminded of that great, but now largely forgotten 1970s musical Songbook by Monty Norman, which charted the career of the legendary (and entirely made up) composer Mooney Shapiro.
Songbook followed on the success of Side by Side by Sondheim, at the time the go-to production for a musical rundown of a legendary writer’s songs. But Midnight at the Never Get serves an entirely different purpose. Not a mere celebration of a fictional songwriter but using his output as a vehicle for capturing a time in the 1960s when homosexuality was still illegal; recreating the atmosphere of a Greenwich Village nightclub where the performers were pushing the envelope to express the love that dare not speak its name.
Cromer’s brilliant production takes you off the streets of 21st century London and plunges you into a brave old world where a man might just sing about love for a he rather than a she. As soon as you enter the Menier auditorium – always a voyage of discovery as you never know how they are going to have configured it this time – you’re swept into a world of cabaret tables and plush upholstered seating, surrounding a pocket handkerchief of a performance space, dominated by a grand piano with just a mic stand at the front. Scott Pask’s immaculate design works with Heather Gilbert’s terrific lighting to suggest every mood that accompanies every song written (and performed) by the late great Arthur Brightman and sung by his friend, lover, and creative inspiration, Trevor Copeland.
At just over 90 minutes without an interval, Copeland and Brightman take us on a journey of how they met, how they wrote and performed together and what they felt for each other. To give you any further details would be to spoil the many surprises that Mark Sonnenblick has constructed in this exquisite chamber piece of a show. The 90 minutes fly by, due to the excellence of the material and the performances.
Sonnenblick’s songs are both delicate in their honesty and robust in their pastiche of jolly 60s musical theatre showtunes and the performances, primarily by Ben Platt as Trevor Copeland, are outstanding. The majority of the show consists of Platt exposing his heart, through narrative and song, and the audience hangs on his every word. The purity of his voice is perfect for Sonnenblick’s heartfelt torch songs, but he can instantly switch on the razzmatazz for the upbeat numbers. It’s a riveting performance.
Gregor Milne is also excellent as Arthur Brightman, sitting at the piano and knocking out the notes, taking us through his creative process for constructing his masterpieces, occasionally also venturing onto the stage at the front to demonstrate that Brightman and Copeland truly were a team. It’s highly emotional throughout, but it’s not until the final ten minutes, which includes the appearance of veteran musical theatre star Barry James – on absolutely cracking form, you long to see more of him – that your heartstrings are well and truly tugged.
The rest of the run is now pretty much sold out – it cries out for a transfer, but it would have to be somewhere truly intimate. An amazing experience, and a privilege to be there.
Five Alive Let Theatre Thrive!