Apologies for being late to the party with The Baker’s Wife, as Edinburgh Fringe duties kept me away. One of Stephen Schwartz’s more obscure musicals, it’s based on a 1938 film, La Femme du Boulanger; and, to be honest, I knew nothing about either the original film or the 1976 musical. The Baker’s Wife never made it to Broadway nor did it reach the West End until a lukewarm production in 1988 directed by Trevor Nunn. Re-invigorated with a new production by Gordon Greenberg, can the Menier succeed with this show where others failed to make the mark?
We’re in a Provençal village in 1935, where the baker has died four weeks ago and the village is bereft of bread. Can you imagine a French village with no bread? It would be like Hemel Hempstead without the roundabouts. Fear not, mes amis, because a new baker, Aimable, is ready to move into the boulangerie with his wife. His beautiful young wife, that is; Genevieve. He’s hopelessly in love with her; she’s in love with being in love, having a married name, desperate to please him. But does she actually love him? Hein, c’est ça le rub, n’est ce pas? When she leaves him for the Marquis’ besotted assistant, Dominique, all the rise goes out of Aimable’s dough and he loses the will to bake. But will the other villagers put up with that? Absolument pas!
You’ve heard of the old phrase, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover? Here’s one of those times where the cover is immaculate, but the book is nondescript. Paul Farnsworth has truly gone to town to recreate a French village in the heart of Southwark Street. Boules in the square, French road names, café tables with coffee and cognac, accordions gently playing; you couldn’t wish for a more idyllic Provençal setting. To increase that sense of la vie française for theatregoers, some seating is at cabaret tables, in the heart of the action; we sat at Table J and although there are a few scenes where some of the action on stage is blocked, that sense of being a villager more than makes up for it.
And there’s a cast of West End stars to take your breath away. Clive Rowe plays Aimable and his rich, sensitive voice delivers his songs with a genuine sincerity and power. Opposite him, the wonderful Lucie Jones brings energy and cheekiness to her songs, including a brilliant epiphany moment in Meadowlark. The delightfully squabbling couple of Denise and Claude who own the café are brought to life with the always amazing Josefina Gabrielle and the comic genius of Norman Pace; they are matched by the problem pairing of Liam Tamne’s brutal and critical Barnaby and Finty Williams’ submissiveHortense – the underlying sense of domestic violence is delicately but clearly portrayed in these two excellent performances. With Joaquin Pedro Valdes’ persistent Dominique, Matthew Seadon-Young’s pious priest, Michael Matus’ bombastic Marquis and Sutara Gayle’s perpetually offended Therese, as well as a superb wider ensemble, you’ll be hard pushed to find a better-performed show in the whole of London. And let’s not forget Dustin Conrad’s terrific band who play Schwartz’s score with a true feel for its romantic French style.
Such a shame, then, that the story is so slight and unadventurous, and the music is so forgettable. Yes, there are a few numbers that stand out; the opening song If It Wasn’t For You is an amusing introduction to the characters of the villagers, Bread is an entertaining homage to that irresistible smell and taste of fresh bread, and the epiphanic Meadowlark is a powerful cry of assertiveness. But so many of the songs and tunes are immediately forgettable, sadly. And whilst the story does have interesting observations about the nature of forgiveness, both between an unfaithful couple and decades-long family feuds, you can’t help but feel that the show has a very narrow and blinkered vision; other than to make us feel ever-so-French, which it does immaculately.
Despite its faults, there’s no doubt that, in terms of production and performance values, this is one of the best that the Menier has ever hosted; and it’s 100% worth going to see for the spectacle and atmosphere alone. Just don’t expect to remember any of the songs.
P. S. Sitting in seat J1 had its perks. As the audience were taking their seats, not only did Ms Gabrielle ask me most politely to slightly move my chair so that her entrances and exits could be more gracefully executed, but also Mr Pace (in full character as Claude) said to me bonjour monsieur, to which I replied, bonjour monsieur, comment ça va? To which he replied Ah, vous parlez français, monsieur? And I came back with Oui, monsieur, comme un anglais, to which he replied, Ah, moi aussi! You had to be there.
