Tag Archives: Curve

Review – Muriel’s Wedding The Musical, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 23rd April 2025

Posted on by

Remember the 1994 film? Of course you do! Muriel’s Wedding received pretty much worldwide acclaim for being a brash, no holds barred comedy where the ugly duckling becomes – if not a swan, then at least a fully grown duck who is completely at ease with who she is. The musical, with music and lyrics by Kate Miller-Heidke and Keir Nuttall, opened in Sydney in 2017, toured Australia in 2019 and has finally re-emerged with its UK premiere at the Leicester Curve.

How well does it transfer to the stage, thirty-one (really?) years later, and as a musical? It’s certainly helped by having an excellent production; director Simon Phillips assembled a great creative team around him, and it shows from the start. Matt Kinley’s set is outstanding and combined with Natasha Chivers’ lighting and Andrzej Goulding’s video design, is a delight to the eyes and convincingly takes us from Leicester to the bright lights of Porpoise Spit. The poker machines at the RSL, the social media littering the back wall, and the suggestions of the sun-drenched Australian coast and the unique combination of pizzazz and sordidness that is Sydney are all beautifully recreated.

Gabriela Tylesova’s costumes convey perfectly all aspects of Australian life; from the beach bums to the suburban household and the glamour and tastelessness that are vital to the existence of the vacuous town girls. Tom Slade’s band does a tremendous job of recreating the sounds of Abba as well as the new songs of Miller-Heidke and Nuttall. And there are also some excellent performances, more of which later.

However, there’s one thing that drags this show down; and, sadly, that’s the show itself. I wondered to what extent the story of Muriel’s Wedding would appear dated today, and the answer is – very. When the film came out, fat-shaming was funny and misogyny was a giggle. Today, much of the content of the show seems extremely cruel, with Muriel being picked on for her style (lack of it) and weight (excess of it), and Betty being mocked – and deceived – for being a maternal drudge who can’t work out that 80-50=30. In fact the story is so misogynistic that even the women hate women. But the character of Muriel doesn’t help herself because she is so extremely unlikeable anyway. A liar and a thief, she doesn’t care about swindling her parents or spinning sob stories to her best friend; maybe in the film she was an amusing fantasist, but here the character simply uses her position and charisma to deceive and break the law.

Scenes are over-extended and padded out, so that the two hours forty-five minutes feels extremely long. Most of the songs don’t move the story forward and none of them is memorable. The humour is often very lazy – joking about forgetting all the letters that can follow LGBT has been done to death, frankly – and there’s a scene and song that is based completely on their inability to remember and pronounce the surname Shkuratov – it took me back to the days of TV’s Mind Your Language, laughing at foreign accents, and no one wants to go there again. In fact a couple of the lyrics rely on stupid verbal sounds rather than words; here’s a quarter of the lyrics for the chorus of the bullying number Can’t Hang:  “See we’re like ah–ah–ah–ah–ah–ah–ah, And you’re like ugh–ugh–ugh–ugh–ugh–ugh–ugh” (the other three quarters are very similar). And here’s the refrain of Meet the Heslops: “Wowww! Wow-ow-ow What? Close one (gasp) Hah! Yeah!”  (Repeat ad nauseam).

The show frequently feels crude and lacks insight; in fact, the only insight I could get from it is how life can be like an Abba song. But even then, there is something creepy about Abba becoming gentle angels of death as they encourage Muriel’s mum Betty into suicide because she doesn’t want to be a burden on anyone. However, that’s not to criticise the Abba sequences in the show which are by far its best moments; especially Bronte Alice-Tadman and Jasmine Hackett as Anna-Frid and Agnetha, who sing superbly and truly convey that Abba feel; Aaron Tsindos’ and Jamie Doncaster’s Benny and Bjorn are comedy Scandi stereotypes that don’t do justice to the originals.

There is, fortunately, a terrific star performance from Megan Ellis as Muriel. A wonderful stage presence who can convey any emotion and whose voice is a dream; it’s a fantastic performance. Annabel Marlow is full of spirit as her friend Rhonda, and there’s a strong performance from Darren Day as Muriel’s corrupt father Bill and Laura Medforth as her brow-beaten mother Betty. And Ethan Pascal Peters is excellent as the underachieving Brice Nobes, even if the repeated jokes about his name get tedious.

The overwhelming feeling that the show gave me is a sense of sadness. Sad, obviously, because elements of the story are extremely sad, with the death of Betty, her husband Bill who only cares about himself, and the other family members who realise too late that they can’t have their mum back. But the misogyny is depressing, and it’s tough to be asked to identify with a central character who, deep down, is not a nice person. And I think it’s sad that a much-loved and admired film has been reshaped into something that basically doesn’t work.

The midweek matinee at the Curve theatre had plenty of empty seats, and I seriously doubt the ability of this show to make much of a splash after its few weeks in Leicester. It was touch and go as to whether we would leave at the interval, but the performance of Megan Ellis convinced us to go back, and to be fair it does improve a little in the second half. Muriel’s Wedding runs at the Curve until 10th May.

Two Disappointing For More!

Review – My Fair Lady, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 4th December 2024

Posted on by

Artistic Director of the Curve Theatre, Nikolai Foster, has assembled a tremendous cast and team to present this year’s Curve Christmas show, that perennial favourite, My Fair Lady. Mr Foster has the ability to take a much-loved show and breathe fresh life into it, whether it needs it or not. His touring production of Grease was one of the highlights of this year, ironing out all the excesses that have become attached to it since it first appeared in the 70s by going back to the original. His hugely successful production of A Chorus Line from 2021, revived this summer, brought Zach the choreographer closer to the action and created a masterpiece of a finale; but also had the immensely annoying (and anachronistic) hand-held camera which destroyed the visual effect of many of the routines. So what will Mr Foster do to put his mark on (in my humble opinion) Lerner and Loewe’s finest two-and-a-half hours?

Answer: many things, and some of them work and some of them don’t. This My Fair Lady is presented on a truly grand scale. The Curve stage is a big place at the best of times, but Michael Taylor’s set is off the scale. The front door to Henry Higgins’ Wimpole Street home is located on a curve (no pun intended) round to furthest downstage left so that it’s aligned with row D of the stalls. The entrance to the pub is opposite, furthest downstage right. Higgins’ room has two staircases going up, creating additional acting space on landings way up high; and parts in the middle to open up and reveal further space way, way upstage. This production is nothing if not big.

However, some of this defies any environmental logic. For example, hopelessly in love Freddy waits outside the front door to catch a glimpse of Eliza whenever she leaves the house – but when she goes off to the ball with Higgins and Pickering she leaves through the upstage part of the set – thereby avoiding the front door where we can clearly see Freddy still pining. Surely they didn’t use the tradesmen’s entrance?

And that front door…. Sigh! Every time someone leaves Higgins’ room, there’s a fifteen second pause from when they exit the stage to their going in or out of the front door. That’s a front door with a very noisy slam. The noise creates a disturbance that takes your attention away from whatever is happening on stage. If it’s just a simple conversation, well, you can overlook it. But – for example – Mrs Pearce leaving Eliza to perform the luscious second chorus of I Could Have Danced All Night with a rotten great door slam in the middle of it is simply unforgivable. If you must have that front door, please fix a silent closing mechanism!

In fact, this production is a good example of revealing when less is more, and an over-egged pudding can be detrimental to the overall effect. Not a word of criticism for George Dyer’s splendid band but the music is simply over-orchestrated. Not only is it too loud and drowns out much of the singing, but it’s somehow just too detailed and full-on. An odd criticism of a musical I know, but frankly this production just has too much music. Too many notes, as Salieri says of Mozart in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus.

This is often emphasised by the performance of David Seadon-Young as Higgins. Mr Seadon-Young is a great singer. Boy, can he whack out a number! He’s about as diametrically opposite of Rex Harrison as you could imagine, who talked his way through all his songs. When I think back of previous Higgins’ that I’ve seen on stage – Tony Britton at the Adelphi, Alex Jennings at Drury Lane – they adopted the largely talking style of performance. Only Dominic West at the sensational Sheffield Crucible production in 2013 did “proper” singing. But David Seadon-Young has musical theatre coursing through his veins and achieves notes and melodies that I never realised lurked beneath the surface of songs like Why Can’t the English or I’m an Ordinary Man. However, it often feels like a battle between him and the orchestra to nail the number rather than them working in tandem. Whilst I’m in the mood for criticism, the Ascot Gavotte is also overdone; Mrs Higgins’ over-the-top companions were pantomime posh and the horses – jockeys on hobby-horse toys – were just plain silly.

But – there are many directorial decisions that work extremely well. Stressing Pickering’s Indian associations, with both his domestic attire and his super-smart society ball costume, works perfectly with Minal Patel’s subtle and entertaining performance. And by characterising him as having a real mancrush on Higgins – perhaps even a little more than that – really makes sense. I’ve never understood in previous productions why Pickering is so attached to Higgins and the elocution process, in which he doesn’t really play an active role. But if he’s besotted with him, then it all falls into place.

There’s no hiding the brutality of the treatment of Eliza – we’ve always known the misogyny is there and that Higgins is a spoilt brat when it comes to his mistreatment of Eliza; but it’s very firmly emphasised in this production, frequently making you feel uncomfortable. It’s superbly presented in You Did It, where Eliza’s elation at her success at the ball progressively diminishes from her expression as Higgins and Pickering celebrate and congratulate each other and all the household staff without ever a word or a glance at her. This younger, super-indulged Higgins comes across as despicable in many ways, which is an interesting challenge for the audience. However, (spoilers, and all that) David Seadon-Young’s excellent characterisation reveals him to be, like all bullies, a pathetic wretch when confronted; and his rendition of I’ve Grown Accustomed to her Face ends with him curled up and bawling his eyes out as he realises that he’s driven away the only person who could ever love him. It’s incredibly moving. It does, nevertheless, make you question exactly why this Eliza, a shrewd, intelligent, confident young woman, decides to take him back. Looking to the future, I can’t see that this relationship is going to last.

Steve Furst is a very enjoyable Alfred P Doolittle, nicely manipulative and full of comedy; his leading the ensemble in With a Little Bit of Luck is certainly a highlight of the show. Djavan van de Fliert is thoroughly convincing as the useless but engaging Freddy, taking full control of the iconic On the Street Where You Live, as well as his silent but excellent physical comedic reactions to Eliza’s rendition of Show Me, for me possibly the most effective staging of any song in the show, perhaps due to its relative simplicity. There’s excellent support from Sarah Moyle as Mrs Pearce and Cathy Tyson as Mrs Higgins, both beacons of sense in a very mad world.

But Molly Lynch as Eliza is undoubtedly the star of the show, with her immaculate singing, precise diction and emotional characterisation. The packed audience were completely engaged in the performance throughout and gave it a very positive reaction; and My Fair Lady will be a welcome Christmas present from the Curve until 4th January 2025.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – A Chorus Line, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 4th July 2024

Posted on by

A quick flick back through my history of reviews will reveal, gentle reader, that I am an avid fan of A Chorus Line; ever since I first saw it in 1976 I’ve found nothing to beat it, and this General Election matinee was the eighteenth time I’ve seen a production of the show. You can read what I thought about this Curve production when we caught it in December 2021 here, or early in its revival run at the London Palladium in 2013 here. There’s no point me rewriting history, after all. Just take it from me that its heart of kindness and its overwhelming capacity for positivity drive it on, no matter how modern directors and choreographers might wish to tamper with it.

When it was playing at the Drury Lane in the 1970s it took about 2 hours and 10 minutes to perform (without an interval). It now takes about 1 hour and 50 minutes. Same show, same songs, same script. You can interpret this difference in two ways; Mrs Chrisparkle, for example, feels that today it’s much pacier and snappier, and she prefers it that way. Or you can agree with me that many scenes are rushed, to the detriment of the emotions lurking within the text and the largely true stories of the individual dancers. The plot twist, for example, when one of the dancers towards the end has a fall and can play no further part in the audition has in the past gripped audiences with its injustice and a sense of tragedy. Here it’s quickly dealt with, they are removed from the scene, and life goes on.

We both have a big gripe with this production – the use of the hand-held camera by choreographer’s assistant Larry. It adds nothing and detracts a lot. Frequently not in focus and out of synch with the live action; and given the fact that they have re-set the show, as it originally was, in 1975, they didn’t have hand-held cameras like that in those days. I was surprised – and delighted – that Val’s original challenging lyrics for her verse in And…. have been reinstated; Judy Turner once more pretends that her real name is Lana Turner (not Tina Turner, as in some more recent productions); and that Maggie and Connie both turn to Mike and confirm that he is indeed a sex maniac with superb comic timing – an opportunity frequently missed over recent years.

I miss the original Michael Bennett choreography badly; Ellen Kane’s 21st century version is lively and expressive but it lacks an individuality of its own, whereas Bennett’s was simply unmistakable, in its show-offish, exhilarating brash self-confidence. That’s not to say that the reinvented finale scene doesn’t work – it works brilliantly and is a pure joy to witness. I also miss the original costume design; again, as they’re sticking with the 1975 setting, some of those more eye-catching costumes today are distinctly from the modern era.

I think there’s also a tendency to overplay some of the characters and make them a little more goofy and kooky than in previous productions; after all, the characters are powerfully drawn, realistic people – because they were based on real people that Bennett interviewed whilst preparing the show – and overdoing some of the comedy tends to make it a little more pantomimish, a little more caricature. And I also feel that the tendency to have more scenes played away from standing On The Line dumbs the show down a little, making it cosier. That Chorus Line of the title is a strip of light on the floor, and every character sticks to their own position along it. There’s no hiding place on the line, it’s brutal, and the private moments that the characters confide from the line are more telling and hard-hitting. Move away from the line, further upstage, and it feels a safer, less scrutinised environment. That’s the wrong place for this show to be.

You might think from all that that I didn’t enjoy it. Far from it, I loved it, as I always do. Stand out performances for me were from Carly Mercedes Dyer as a very no-nonsense Cassie, Manuel Pacific as a shy but strangely confident Paul who becomes more and more willing to talk as his scene progresses, Chloe Saunders as a very bright and in-your-face Val, and Redmand Rance as a nicely underplayed Mike.

It goes without saying that all the dancing and singing are of the highest quality, and Matthew Spalding’s band are second to none, with some inventive and musically challenging rearrangements. If you’ve never seen A Chorus Line before, you’re in for a treat – after its run in Leicester it goes to Salford, followed by three weeks at Sadlers Wells, then Norwich, Canterbury, Birmingham, Cardiff, Edinburgh and finally High Wycombe in the first week of October. The show is still in very safe hands, I’m relieved to say!

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Come From Away, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 6th March 2024

Posted on by

The very welcome return of Come From Away recalls two very different but world-shattering events. First, the terrorist attack on the Twin Towers, which is the unspoken catalyst for everything that happens in the show; and second, the Covid pandemic lockdowns, which paused the run of the show in London in 2020, and interrupted everyone’s lives, enforcing months of inactivity. Two experiences that the whole world could have done without; but two experiences that have shaped our world today and continue to have long-lasting after-effects, that may never go away for generations.

Come From Away celebrates the kindness and generosity of the people of Gander, Newfoundland, who gave shelter, food and support to around 7,000 displaced people who were making their way to New York by air at the time of the attack, thereby almost doubling the population of the town. When something as mind-blowing as the terrorist attack takes place, it puts lesser problems into perspective. Gander, for instance, was in the thrust of (comparative) political turmoil as the school bus drivers were striking, and there didn’t seem to be much “give” on either side of the argument.

But when a true crisis comes along, the drivers did not hesitate to transport their new guests to whatever housing could be provided for them. The Newfoundlanders shopped until they dropped for food, toiletries and other essentials, never asking for any payment. They even gave up their barbecue grills so that hot meals could be provided. Considering there was no way all this rescue work could ever have been planned, the citizens and administration of Gander achieved a most remarkable achievement.

The show has won a series of awards across the USA, Canada and Europe, and, frankly, it’s no surprise. A superb score, vivid characters, and a story of warmth and love that is irresistible to all, this is an inspirational show, possibly comparable only to A Chorus Line in terms of its positivity (and if you know how much I love A Chorus Line, you’ll appreciate that’s high praise indeed). The comparison continues when you consider that both shows are based on the true stories and testimonies of the real characters depicted on stage; and both shows dispense with an interval to maximise the build-up of emotion and inevitable conclusion, as well as unfolding the entire show with admirable brevity.

Beowulf Boritt’s beguiling set, primarily suggestive of the Canadian Forest but adaptable to all the different locations of the show, provides generous performance space whilst housing the super-talented musicians just slightly off-stage in the wings. Within the first few minutes your feet are tapping away to Welcome to the Rock and you’re fighting hard against the temptation to burst into I Am An Islander to the annoyance of your neighbours. As song after song emerges organically from the developing plotlines, one hour forty minutes passes in an instant as you lose yourselves in this absorbingly decent and selfless community.

The new cast for this extensive UK tour are uniformly superb and dovetail each other perfectly as a true ensemble production should. What continues to astonish me is how individual actors, playing many different roles, merge in and out of their characters with a mere doff of a hat or a flick of an ankle; how they keep control of who they are playing, I have no idea! If I were to pick one name out, I’d have to pick them all out, so take it from me they are all fantastic!

I remember that I loved seeing this show at the Phoenix Theatre in 2021, but my sense is that it is even better now, with truly committed performances and a score that ages gently like a vintage port. And it truly does help you to keep things in perspective. After Leicester it continues to twenty-six further venues, ending in Salford in time for Christmas and the New Year. Snap up a ticket while you can.

Five Alive Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – A Chorus Line, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 9th December 2021

Posted on by

It’s been over three years since we visited the Curve Theatre, and it was a true delight to return to this wonderful modern building with its hugely useful stages and spaces and lively, modern vibe. More to the point, it’s been over eight years since the London Palladium’s magnificent revival of A Chorus Line, and frankly, it’s been too damn long a wait to see it again. It’s no secret; A Chorus Line is my favourite show of all time – I saw it eight times as a teenager at the Drury Lane in the 70s, including its final performance which was a tear-jerking experience of all of its own (although not as tear-jerking as the last night of the Palladium production!) Since then I’ve seen it in Sheffield, in Oxford and on Broadway, plus another four times at the Palladium. For someone who doesn’t tend to go back to a show unless it’s super-special, I think that demonstrates how super-special it is to me.

In case you don’t know, A Chorus Line is all about a group of dancers auditioning for a Broadway musical. They are quickly whittled down to a final 17, from whom Zach, the choreographer and Larry, his assistant, must pick a final 8 – four boys, four girls. At first, you the audience play the game of Who Would I Choose? But as it goes on, you give in to the show’s main message that everyone is special, and there are no winners or losers. Selecting a final eight is only one of the harsh realities of a dancer’s life that is explored in the show; the dancers had no choice but to live that life because it’s what they did for love. One of the many reasons it’s my favourite show is that no other is so full of positivity, and appreciation of talent and everything that’s good in life. Despite Zach’s necessary ruthlessness, the show is so overwhelmingly kind; and that’s an attribute that is in very short supply in today’s cancel-cultural, governmental gaslighting society. We all have our part to play in life; I’ll take Chorus, if you’ll take me.

I was nervous of seeing this production because, where it comes to A Chorus Line, I tend to be a pompous purist. In the past, the further a production departs from Michael Bennett’s original choreography and staging, or Theoni V. Aldredge’s costume design, or Marvin Hamlisch’s orchestration, the less I enjoy it. And don’t even speak to me of the abomination that is Richard Attenborough’s film. I was also concerned that it might be rushed. The original Drury Lane production lasted 2 hours and ten minutes. They shaved five minutes off that for the Palladium production. This production lasts 1 hour 50 minutes. How are they going to manage that?

The answer to that question is that it’s very pacey! There are a couple of moments when I thought the pathos was slightly lost due to our not having the time to take in the true impact of some characters’ emotions and fears, But I’m thrilled to tell you that it’s a resounding super success all the way through! Three seconds into the show and my goosebumps had goosebumps. Time and again I literally shook with emotion at what I was seeing. To be honest, there are a few directorial decisions that I don’t agree with, but nothing that in any remote way dents the inherent brilliance of this show.

Does the new production treat the original text and story with respect? YES! The programme makes it clear that we are in 1975. The only departure from the original text is the very sensible replacing the dancers’ years of birth with their age when they’re doing their opening introduction sequence. Otherwise, all the original references are there. I was expecting the dancers’ idols like Troy Donahue, Maria Tallchief, Robert Goulet etc to have been updated, but they weren’t. Judy Turner still pretends her real name is Lana Turner – that’s a return to the original from other productions. I hope those old names don’t mystify new younger audience members. Val’s bold verse for her And… sequence which includes the line tied up and raped at seven, has been kept although it had been previously replaced by something more anodyne in the Palladium production. So we’re strictly 1975. Problem one: the first camcorder was released in 1983. So having Larry double-up as a video camera man, filming deeply into the dancers’ faces and projected onto the back wall, simply wouldn’t have happened in 1975. Added to that, he gets in the way of the action, and the visual projection is very slightly out of synch with the sound, so it acts as an obstacle to communication rather than an addition, which I sense is what was intended. For me, the video camera action was unnecessary and a big no-no.

Does the choreography give off at least the same amount of joy as Bennett’s original? YES! In fact many of the routines still use a lot of the Bennett signature tricks and pay homage to his original work. I never thought that his staging of the finale could possibly be improved. I was wrong. Whilst I love the iconic Bennett choreography, Ellen Kane’s new routine uses the full stage with such overwhelming joy that the audience is stunned into intense, heart-in-mouth appreciation. In the original production, there’s no further curtain call after the lights dim on the high-kicking dancers, and you start the applause from the beginning of the number. In this production, Paul starts off with an eloquent contemporary dance solo (I note that the fantastic Jonathan Goddard is an assistant choreographer on the show – I bet he had a hand in that) that merges into the boys performing their part of One, before the girls join in. Significantly, there was no applause during this number. But once the curtain was down, the audience went hysterical.

Is the music performed with at least the same richness and expression as the original? Given Tamara Saringer’s excellent band comprises of just seven musicians in comparison with, say, a full scale orchestra in the pit of the Palladium or Drury Lane, their musical richness is phenomenal. The arrangements have naturally had to be altered but remain beautifully evocative and strongly musical throughout; a slight exception perhaps with the musical arrangement for I Can Do That which I felt was slightly underpowered – Mike’s wonderful show-off dance routine deserves as much musical oomph behind it as possible.

Does the production respect the original characterisations? YES! The show was originally conceived following a series of interviews with real Broadway dancers, telling their true experiences and revealing their true fears. For me, it’s vital that that truthfulness is not compromised, and there’s no danger of that here! Each performer has always brought their own personality to their role, and that tradition remains gloriously intact. I’m not going to mention everybody – as Cassie says, “we’re all special. He’s special – she’s special. And Sheila, and Richie and Connie. They’re all special.” However, in the 16 performances I’ve seen over the years, this was only the second time I’ve heard Paul’s monologue get a round of applause. Ainsley Hall Ricketts performs it with a degree of urgency and pace I’d not heard before, and relives Paul’s childhood experiences brilliantly vividly and profoundly. It’s obscene that an actor as young as him should be giving a stage masterclass but he does.

Jamie O’Leary portrays Mark as a much more edgy, anxiety-ridden youth than I’d seen before, which took me a little time to get used to but is an absolutely truthful reflection of the role. Redmand Rance’s Mike is again a little smoother and more sophisticated reading of the role than is usual – he’s normally more of a Soprano mobster kind of New Yorker, so that when he’s called Twinkletoes it really hurts – but his stage presence and dance solo are both superb. Beth Hinton-Lever’s Bebe is fresh, vibrant, excited and absolutely the right reading of the character who doesn’t want to hear that Broadway is dying because she’s only just got here. Joshua Lay and Katie Lee interact perfectly as Al and Kristine with an immaculately performed Sing – a song that’s very hard to get right. Tom Partridge is also perfect as the more mature Don, and tells the story of his association with Lolo Latores and her dynamic twin forty-fours with zest and fun. And André Fabien Francis is a delight as Richie; no, you just couldn’t imagine him a kindergarten teacher.

And, of course, there are the big hitters in the story. Adam Cooper brings a superb natural authority to the role of Zach, and balances beautifully the many aspects of the character – his work-driven impatience, his kindness, his genuine appreciation of the efforts of all the auditionees and his embarrassment at the fall-out with Cassie. But – Problem two: he’s on stage too much. Traditionally Zach spends most of the time in the audience at his desk and all you know of him is his disembodied voice barking instructions and challenges. This makes him more aloof from the dancers, which acutely exposes their vulnerability on the line. That said, it did allow for an unexpected additional frisson when Zach confronts Cassie with considerable aggression and Bobby feels like he has to step in to protect her; Zach’s threatening eyes intimidate Bobby into instant, but unwilling submission, and you feel like there’s an untapped mini drama going on behind the scenes that we’ll never speak of again. A brilliant moment.

Carly Mercedes Dyer’s Cassie is surprisingly assertive in her interactions with Zach; this Cassie knows the role should be hers and is less pleading with him than I’ve seen before. She is, of course, a brilliant stage performer and dancer, and her Music and the Mirror routine is electric with beauty and eloquence. Emily Barnett-Salter’s Sheila is as sassy and forthright as you would expect, which makes the moment Zach catches her out with her “anything to get out of the house” comment as telling as ever. As Diana, Lizzy-Rose Esin-Kelly gets to hold court over the theatre with two of the show’s most striking musical sequences and she does them both with terrific power and insight; I particularly liked her supreme emotional skills in Nothing. And Chloe Saunders gives us a wonderfully confident and in-your-face performance of Dance Ten Looks Three, a song with which I have embarrassed myself at several parties and karaokes over the decades.

There’s one thing I have missed. Howard Hudson’s lighting design. Give that man the Olivier Award this minute. Talk about dazzling. If you want to see how inventive lighting can transport a cast and audience to another place, just see this show.

It was Sir Harold Hobson, drama critic of the Sunday Times, who nailed A Chorus Line with his everlasting description quote: A rare, devastating, joyous, astonishing stunner. Forty-five years on, it still is. Perhaps more than ever. If ever there was an antidote to these pandemic-ridden, corruption-filled, selfish and depressingly cynical times, it’s this. A Chorus Line is back, and although this production is scheduled to run only until New Year’s Eve, it would be a crime for it not to have a life hereafter.

Five Alive Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Miss Saigon, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 8th July 2017

Posted on by

You might find it hard to believe, gentle reader, but we’ve never seen Miss Saigon before. How on earth could you possibly have missed it out, you might ask? I think it’s because we weren’t overly fussed on Les Miserables when we first saw it (how times have changed) and productions of Miss Saigon – which was written by the same creative team as Les Mis – have always been atrociously expensive; basically, we always thought we’d get more “bang for our buck” elsewhere. But the news of the new touring production, starting life just up the road at Leicester, was too much temptation. So, Mrs Chrisparkle and I, together with our friend Lady Lichfield, decided to take a punt on it.

As you doubtless know, it’s a modern take on the old favourite, Madame Butterfly. GI Chris is out in Vietnam where he falls in love with Kim, a bargirl. They quickly get married but then are separated and he returns to the US without any knowledge of her whereabouts. But she never gives up hope. Three years later, word reaches John, Chris’s wartime colleague, (via The Engineer, the pimp who used to run the Saigon bar) that Kim is still alive – and that she has little three-year-old Tam. Trouble is, Chris has now married Ellen… I won’t tell you what happens next, but if you work it back from the story of Madame Butterfly, then you’ll realise it’s not going to have a happy ending.

My first reaction was, how could I have let the last 28 years go by and not seen it? It’s not a perfect show by any means, but the story is so believable – this kind of love/separation/fatherless child syndrome must have been very common. This current production is simply magnificent and I was absolutely caught up in it from the start. Our interval Sauvignon Blanc was spent with my being surprised that my theatre companions weren’t enjoying it quite as much as me – not liking much of the music, finding it very samey; to be honest, I thought many of the lyrics erred on the trite side, but I was prepared to give it the benefit of the doubt. But what a second act! It all becomes immense. After the gloopy Bui Doi scene, which made me think of Michael Jackson singing some kind of “we all love the world and all the children” song, the story gathers pace at a bewildering rate. Hope turns to tragedy, and The Engineer has a show-stopping sensational number which takes the American Dream, wrings every ounce of humanity out of it and renders it fabulously gross. And I genuinely don’t think there was a dry eye in the house at the end of the show – certainly not from any of us three.

It was fascinating to note not only the plotline similarities with Madame Butterfly, but also the structural similarities with Les Mis. Huge scene big numbers like The Morning of the Dragon echo the barricades of Revolutionary Paris, with the stark death of Thuy providing a similar shock value as the death of Gavroche; the role of The Engineer has many parallels with Thenardier’s Master of the House; and both musicals end with a nod toward the future, although there’s a stark contrast between the nature of the deaths of Jean Valjean and Kim.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen the huge stage of the Curve theatre used with such impact as with this show. Totie Driver and Matt Kinley’s amazing set intimidates and beguiles; it closes in for the very intimate scenes between Chris and Kim, and backs away to reveal a stage area big enough for twenty-four or more burly-clad lads representing a dancing, victorious, communist army. The musical staging is by A Chorus Line’s very own Bob Avian and you can absolutely see his stamp all over it. The lighting is dynamic and dramatic; the costumes are superb and the fifteen-member orchestra is on superb form. There are two stunning visual effects that take your breath away – the helicopter that takes Chris and the other US soldiers into the sky is so realistically represented you can almost feel the wind from its wings; and the disembodied figure of Thuy’s ghost that comes to Kim in a dream and slowly floats into the set, gains form and then walks down the stairs, is spine-tingling. Here you will find all the usual hallmarks of a superbly crafted, no expense spared, Cameron Mackintosh production.

At the heart of the show is the tragic Kim, played by Sooha Kim. She has an extraordinarily powerful voice and sings the role absolutely superbly. She has the ability to mess with your heartstrings and you really feel all the emotions she does – the initial disgust at working in “Dreamland”, the joy of her love for Chris, the devastation of realising he is married, the panic that makes her kill Thuy; they’re all stunning scenes and played with total conviction. Ashley Gilmour plays Chris as a GI a cut above the rest, emphasising the decency and honour of the character, which of course only makes his later plight all the more painful. He and Miss Kim have a great on-stage chemistry together and the intimacy of their love scenes is very convincing – and enchanting to watch. There’s also a stand-out scene where Chris and new wife Ellen are in bed together in Atlanta, singing a trio with Kim in the wastes of Ho Chi Minh City; emotionally gripping, musically stunning.

Ryan O’Gorman is a great choice to play GI John, with a great natural authority that gives him absolute credibility in those wartime scenes, as well as the more respectable, mature John who fronts the (still toe-curling) Bui Doi conference in Atlanta, and stands alongside his friend in his hour of need as he comes to terms with finding out about Kim and Tam. Zoe Doano is excellent as Ellen, especially in that painful scene where she and Kim meet in the hotel room and she discovers that Chris has been economical with the truth; and there’s also a fine performance by Gerald Santos as Thuy, both as the wretched North Vietnamese soldier of peasant stock come to take Kim back, and as the clean-cut military commissar out to seek vengeance on those who crossed him. All the ensemble give great performances – I particularly liked the attitude of all those Dreamland girls, very nicely done; but everyone was terrific.

But the show belongs to Red Concepcion as The Engineer – a dream of a role for the right performer and Mr C certainly is that. Manipulating everyone with whom he comes into contact in the hope that he might somehow obtain an American visa, he gleefully doesn’t care who suffers in the process. Deliciously slimy, sexually ambivalent, willing to degrade himself in any way in pursuit of the Yankee Dollar, his highlight comes with the American Dream number where the luscious fruit of his ambition grows disgustingly over-ripe with this mesmerically self-indulgent paean to riches. You’ve never seen a man love a car in the way he does. He’s completely gross and completely brilliant.

Yes, some of the music might be a little generic-musical, and yes, in comparison with the stimulating and intense lyrics of Les Miserables, some of these lyrics are over-simplified and trite; but all this is nothing as to the emotional surge that the story, the setting and the performers provide. I absolutely loved it. This production is only just starting and it has a long national (and international!) tour that goes on till September 2018, visiting Birmingham, Dublin, Cardiff, Edinburgh, Southampton, Manchester, Bristol, Plymouth and Norwich. Get booking now, you won’t regret it.

P. S. It’s great to see the Curve Café used by the cast both before and after the show. I was waiting for my two teas and a cappuccino and was aware that I was standing next to Mr Gilmour and Miss Kim. Mr Gilmour was obviously hungry: “feed me” he implored of the waiting staff; “feed me, Seymour, feed me now” replied Miss Kim, which is precisely the same thing Mrs Chrisparkle and I say when we’re starving. She went on to ask Mr Gilmour whether the plant in Little Shop of Horrors has a name. Neither of them could think of it. I had to stop myself from butting in with “it’s Audrey! Audrey II in fact, because the first Audrey dies early in the show” – because that would have meant I was listening in to their conversation, which of course would have been rude of me.

P. P. S. After the matinee, a number of the ensemble came out and spread over one of the refectory tables, and had lots of well-deserved food and drink. A plucky family from the audience approached one of the cast and asked for selfies and had a chat and the cast member (I couldn’t quite see who it was) was extremely obliging and friendly. And then I saw something I’d never seen before. The lady from the happy family gave the cast member a £5 tip. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly….” started the ensemble lady, “oh yes, you must”, insisted the happy punter. Well, we do it in a restaurant, why not at the theatre?

Review – Pick of the Fest, Leicester Comedy Festival, Curve Studio, Leicester, 10th February 2017

Posted on by

I think we can all agree that festivals are fun. That’s the whole idea, isn’t it? Whether it’s something massive like Edinburgh, or something tiny like the Northampton Flash Festival, the idea is that you go and see shows that may be quite short (so you can see lots in a day), financed on a shoestring, possibly for low ticket prices, at no frills venues. We’d only dipped our toe into the Leicester Comedy Festival once before, three years ago when we were amongst a lucky few to see Kevin Dewsbury’s final outing (no pun intended) of his one man show Out Now, in a back room at the Belmont Hotel. For me that was what “festival” was all about – intimate and informal, with “backstage” just as clearly visible as “stage”.

And I wonder if that’s why last Friday’s Pick of the Fest show at the Leicester Curve Studio didn’t quite work for me as a whole. We’ve seen several productions at the Studio and I’ve always really liked it as a venue – especially when we sit in the front row, because you really feel at the heart of the action. But for this show we were seated in row I (no idea why we were so far back because I’m sure I booked the tickets on the first day they became available), and the stage seemed an awfully long way away (even though it wasn’t), and that comedy club atmosphere just didn’t reach as far back as our row. Perhaps the staging was too formal, too theatre-y, and insufficiently festival-y. It just didn’t feel very relaxed.

This is one of those “compilation” shows when a number of performers come along and do some material as a promotion for their own shows on elsewhere at the festival. It’s a tried and tested formula which works well – especially with our favourite Edinburgh comedy ritual, Spank. Our host was the ebullient Carly Smallman, whom we have seen many times before and is always good value. She excels at getting to know the front few rows and poking kindly fun at their weird little ways – never cruel, unless it’s against herself, when she can indulge in devastating self-deprecation. Carly has two more shows in the festival coming up on the 17th February and the 26th February.

Our first act was someone completely new to us – Elf Lyons. She comes across as a posh girl obsessed with how she interacts with her even posher mother, who, I think we can all agree, sounds a bit of a nightmare. I enjoyed her act and she had lots of good material, although I confess I didn’t always catch all the punchlines – because I was sitting too far away, I expect. She gave us twenty minutes or so of neurotic insecurities and built up a nice rapport with the audience. Her show, Pelican, was on later that night, so if you missed it, you missed it. However, you can see what other shows she’s doing here.

Our next act was an old favourite – and I hope he’ll forgive the use of the word “old”. It’s Paul Sinha, whom we’ve seen at Screaming Blue Murder shows before and he’s always a joy. I’d forgotten quite how dour and laconic his delivery can be; it’s almost as though the backstory to every line he says is “I know I’m a failure, but I’m surviving nonetheless”. He tells of the trials and tribulations of being a gay British Asian man who doesn’t bake, and how thrilled his parents were when he gave up his medical career to follow comedy. His material is both funny and telling in the way it challenges preconceptions and stereotypes. Of course, he has a lot to say about his appearances on TV’s The Chase; but I preferred his general observations of life, including discovering the best App to meet Asian men, and his alarming but hilarious account of being out on the loose in Barnsley. He’s a top class comic and he has a new work in progress show at the festival on Saturday 18th February.

If Paul Sinha’s an old favourite, our next act, after the interval, was a new favourite – Dane Baptiste, whose Reasonable Doubts show we saw last year and really loved. I’m completely taken in by his slightly reserved, slightly authoritarian, slightly controlling style; the emphasis of his act is on quiet observation and making ridiculous contrasts, like when he is jealous of girls for having “gay best friends”, and wishes he could have a “lesbian best friend” as well. He, too, can make you challenge yourself on your preconceptions, and his humour also appeals to your own sense of intelligence – which it’s always nice to recognise. I can’t recall many of the ins and outs of his routine, I just let them wash over me. I’m sure he’s going to be a really big star one day. His Work in Progress show took place last Saturday, but he’s doing many more gigs over the next few weeks as you can see here.

Our final act is someone we’ve seen twice at Screaming Blue Murder clubs and both times I’m afraid I can’t pretend to have enjoyed his act much. This is Josh Howie – and there’s something about him that brings out the politically correct in me, as I bridle at his material that challenges the PC brigade. So if you like your comedy un-PC, you’ll probably love him. In fact, I was enjoying his routine (up to a point) until he started his material about hoping that his two-year-old son won’t turn out to be gay. And if he is gay, he’ll tell him how it’s particularly wrong to be a bottom. In fact, he’ll watch porn videos with him in order to point out which sex practices and roles are acceptable, and which aren’t. I know this is a ridiculous subject, and one which he hopes will be funny; and, to be honest, I wish I liked him more, but I found him borderline homophobic and, anyway, I just don’t get humour that hates people. His solo show was on the previous night, so again if you want to catch him, he still has some dates elsewhere on his UK tour.

So something of a mixed bag for our first venture into this year’s Leicester Comedy Festival, but I have very high hopes for the four shows we’re still to see… watch this space!

Review – Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 5th March 2016

Posted on by

There are few more iconic images in 20th century culture than that of Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly in the film of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Sexy, cute; the ridiculously long cigarette holder adding a touch of posy extravagance; cosseting her pussycat to show that she’s kind to animals too. Delicately unreal; almost – but not quite – attainable; forever to escape labelling or compartmentalising; teasingly aloof; charmingly kooky. It’s a character that should be full of life and extremes; full of light and shade. Funny and tragic. Confident and timid. Gazing vacantly one minute, then teeming with motivation the next. You can get all that from the poster. We’ve never read the book, and we’ve never seen the film. We saw the Lost Musical of Holly Golightly a few years ago, and looking back I remember it was a rather unsatisfactory experience, neither giving us a decent insight into the character of Holly Golightly nor telling a good story, lacking, as it was, in both drama and substance. Surely, this new full length play adaptation of Truman Capote’s original book will fill in the gaps.

The story is somewhat slight. Holly lives in a brownstone apartment in New York, with no discernible job nor way of funding her lifestyle. She’s totally unpredictable, sometimes going away for weeks on end, unannounced; often in the company of more mature men and other insalubrious companions. She clearly likes a good party; she allows her neighbour to get part way into her life but she still keeps him at a certain distance. In the end, she suffers a downfall in fortune, loses an unborn child but follows her heart by escaping to Brazil. I was struck by the many similarities with Fitzgerald’s Great Gatsby; a charismatic, extravagant but elusive central character; a slightly misfit narrator commenting on the side of the action; scenes of New York excessiveness; and ending up with shattered dreams.

I should point out that Mrs Chrisparkle and I saw the third (I think?) public performance of this production which still counted as a preview, so it was definitely still bedding in and maybe there was still some scope to make a few tweaks here and there before press night. But let’s first look at the ingredients that make up this production. The adaptation is by Richard Greenberg, an experienced American author who won the Tony Award for best play in 2003 for Take Me Out, and who also adapted Strindberg’s Dance of Death to critical acclaim. It’s directed by Nikolai Foster, Artistic Director of the Curve, who last year gave us two stunning productions with Beautiful Thing and A Streetcar Named Desire – he also directed Jodie Prenger in the fun revival of Calamity Jane. The enjoyably detailed set is by Matthew Wright, whose work at the Menier is a series of delights; he also designed the eye-catching costumes, and Miss Golightly obviously makes it a rule never to be seen in the same outfit twice. The original music is by Grant Olding, he who gave us the tunes in One Man Two Guvnors, and created the stunning Drunk with Drew McOnie. Heading the cast you have Pixie Lott, with three number one singles under her belt, nominated for four BRIT awards, quarter finalist on Strictly Come Dancing, and having sold 1.6 million albums worldwide. What could possibly go wrong?

I’ll tell you. A complete lack of energy, and a total lack of drama. It’s almost paralysingly dull. Mrs C had to check Wikipedia when we got home in order to verify what kind of story it’s meant to be – and the answer seemed to be romantic comedy. Well there’s not a lot of romance, and even less comedy. I’ve hardly ever seen such a packed audience (and believe me the Curve Theatre was absolutely packed) react so quietly to a play. And it’s not that “I could hear a pin drop” type of intense quietness; it’s the aghast quietness that says “I can’t believe I paid £38 to see something so totally bland”. It’s almost as though after the first couple of scenes we had united in a communal “glazing over” of all our senses. I think I gave a slight chuckle three times in the entire show. You could tell the lines that were meant to get laughs, as the cast had built in useful pauses in the proceedings to deal with them. However, they were met with silence. I almost wondered if we had gone on a work to rule and weren’t going to react to any of the lines until our demands for free half-time ice-creams had been met. Desultory applause at the interval and curtain call told its own story. Yes, there were of course some whoops for Miss Lott, but they were clearly out of appreciation for her back catalogue rather than anything to do with her performance.

Fair’s fair – Pixie Lott absolutely looks the part. She’s radiant, she’s stylish; you’d have to be a very hard-hearted chap not to get some warmth in your soul from looking at her. In the course of the show she sings three songs: Grant Olding’s Hold Up My Dying Day which I thought was a very classy number, Oklahoma’s People will say we’re in love which just seems The Wrong Song from The Wrong Show at The Wrong Time, and Henry Mancini’s Moon River, in a version so laid back that it can barely stand upright. This is patently not a musical – it’s a play with music. I thought it was very revealing that a packed house watching Pixie Lott perform three songs on stage only resulted in one very half-hearted round of applause – for Moon River, when you could sense the audience guiltily relent into it as though it were a kind of obligation. With looks like that she doesn’t have to be the world’s finest actor but I couldn’t help but feel that she hadn’t really got into the part at all yet. It felt much more like she was doing a vocal impersonation of Audrey Hepburn – or, actually, to me it sounded more like she was channelling her inner Zsa Zsa Gabor, darrrlink.

Matt Barber played Holly’s neighbour Fred – although that isn’t his name – and again I didn’t really get a full impression about how he actually felt about Holly. The character’s ambiguous sexuality was quite subtly played out in many scenes, with his more than usual delight at meeting Jose, his looking twice at the sailors home on leave and the initial suggestion that Doc was stalking him for a very different purpose. But I couldn’t work out if that made him Holly’s Gay Best Friend or what, really. Many of the other characters succeeded in featuring somewhere on the irritating scale, with some rather over the top performances; maybe they were just trying to compensate for the overwhelming dullness of the whole thing by goofying-up these minor characters. Mrs C’s main criticism of the show – during the parts where she stayed awake – was that a lot of the acting was very shouty – one of her pet hates. Only Robert Calvert as Doc – Holly’s rather sad and confused husband from the early days – struck me as getting the tone of his character right. They say never work with animals – couldn’t agree less. The cat was one of the best things about this show.

I really wanted to enjoy it; I so wanted to enjoy it. But in the first few scenes it offers the audience nothing to latch on to that can carry them through the rest of the play. No intrigue; no humour; no suspense; no characters with whom you can identify or admire. It ends up being two and a half hours (or more) of supreme irrelevance. I couldn’t wait for it to end.

Review – A Streetcar Named Desire, Leicester Curve Studio, 24th October 2015

Posted on by

I’ve been an admirer of the plays of Tennessee Williams for as long as I can remember. I recall being blown away by a TV adaptation of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof when I was about 16, then I took a young lady to see The Glass Menagerie when I was 17 (what a romantic gesture that was!) and the only other time I’ve seen A Streetcar Named Desire was at the Oxford Playhouse back in 1978, directed by Nicolas Kent. So it was high time I got reacquainted with the play. Mrs Chrisparkle had also never seen it, nor had our friend, Lady Lichfield, who struggled up to Leicester by train on the most circuitous of routes, but that’s another story.

I had forgotten what a simply magnificent play this is. It is so beautifully written, creating an uncertain air of mystery with almost every new plot progression, that you, as an audience member, can interpret it in many different ways. These basic plot details are for certain: Blanche Dubois has come to visit her sister Stella who lives in a dingy downstairs flat in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Blanche seems used to a more refined lifestyle, dressing in lace and assuming an almost unnatural politesse. Stella, however, has married Stanley, an uncultured Polack (Blanche’s word), and appears content to live with (indeed emotionally and sexually satisfied by) his violent and brutish behaviour. The Grand Estate – Belle Reve – where Blanche and Stella were brought up has been “lost”, and Blanche is now homeless. Stella hasn’t forewarned Stanley that his sister-in-law is coming to stay, and it’s fair to say that they don’t hit it off. In the following months, Blanche gets courted by one of Stanley’s poker-playing buddies, Mitch, who’s less Neanderthal than the rest of them; but her past catches up with her and none of it ends happily. I could go into more detail about the plot but a) you probably know it already, b) maybe you don’t want to know it, and c) there’s a fine line between what you see on stage and what might just be figments of Blanche’s imagination. Although Blanche is taken away by a doctor and nurse at the end of the play, it’s debatable at which point her mental instability takes control. It could be at the end of the play, it could be much earlier; and what you see may be a hazy blend of reality and fantasy. That’s just part of the play’s mystery.

It was first produced in 1947 and had its first UK production in 1949, directed by Laurence Olivier and with Vivien Leigh as Blanche. Of course, back in those days, drama was censored on the British stage and the producer had to apply to the Lord Chamberlain’s office for a licence to perform. This must have provided more than a few difficulties for the censor, as the play deals with – amongst other things – insanity, victim mentality, suicide, rape, and paedophilia. But none of this was, apparently, a particular problem. The only thing that almost caused the production to be banned at the last minute was the story about Blanche’s late husband Allan, whom she found in flagrante delicto with someone else: “Then I found out. In the worst of all possible ways. By coming suddenly into a room that I thought was empty – which wasn’t empty, but had two people in it…the boy I had married and an older man who had been his friend for years”. For the censor, this was the bridge too far. The reference to homosexuality had to go. Bizarrely, the censor himself suggested it should be replaced so that Allan should have been caught at it with a black woman. Eventually a cut was agreed, with the line now just reading “which wasn’t empty, but had two people in it…” And that is how it reads in my Penguin edition of the play and how it is currently spoken in this Curve production. Oddly, by not spelling out precisely what it was that Blanche saw her husband doing, it actually adds to the play’s overall air of mystery.

I had read some very disappointing reviews of this production after press night – none of which are remotely recognisable to the show we saw on Saturday – so I can only assume that the team have continued to work on earlier criticisms, because we all thought the show was quite brilliant. Michael Taylor’s set cleverly encompasses the several acting areas of the play – the Kowalskis’ two roomed apartment, the bathroom, the porch area, Eunice’s flat upstairs, even the streets around New Orleans. There’s a very realistic rain effect right at the end of the play that might get your knees and legs wet if you sit in the front row (as we did, but it’s great to be almost part of the action). There are lots of off-stage music effects that confront and unsettle you, the emotionally moving image of the flower vendor selling her flores para los muertos, and, of course, there are some magnificent performances.

The character of Blanche is so central and so iconic that it is vital to get it right – and Charlie Brooks gives us a terrifyingly stressed Blanche; jittery, anxious, and clearly disturbed right from the start. Mrs C and Lady L both thought that her characterisation made the first act rather frenetic – you were constantly being so bombarded by her words and her anxieties that you hardly had time to reflect. I think that’s possibly true – but I also think it’s entirely justified. In fact, I found it virtually impossible to take my eyes off Ms Brooks all the time she was on stage, so vividly and profoundly did she inhabit the character. I thought it was an amazing performance. We’d seen her a few months earlier in Beautiful Thing and she was terrific in that too – she’s not putting a foot wrong at the moment.

Her anxiety makes the perfect contrast with Dakota Blue Richards’ portrayal of Stella – calm, collected, accepting, practical, and surprisingly assertive. When Blanche tries to load the emotional blackmail on her she simply rejects it; when Stanley behaves badly to her sister she remonstrates with him. Nevertheless, she’s no match for Stanley’s brute force, and the simplicity of her return to him after he’s assaulted her speaks volumes about what she wants from life – and we the audience watch disapprovingly at her contentment with her victim status. Ms Richards gives us a Stella of great clarity and warmth; and turmoil too, when she wonders if she has done the right thing by bringing the doctor to Blanche. That was the moment when both Mrs C and Lady L reached for the Kleenex.

There’s also a wild and brilliant portrayal of Stanley by Stewart Clarke; loud, cruel, calculating, and intimidating – a really strong and intense performance, never straying into an over-the-top pantomime, but always unpleasantly believable. There are also some great supporting performances from Sandy Foster as Eunice, and Patrick Knowles as Mitch,both caught up in an environment where survival of the fittest and not rocking the boat is an imperative, even if you have to do things of which you are not proud.

A stunning production of what is still a very moving and important play – one of those theatre experiences that will live on long after you come home. It’s on at the Curve until 7th November – strongly recommended!

Production photographs by Manuel Harlan

Review – Beautiful Thing, Leicester Curve Studio, 30th May 2015

Posted on by

At the risk of repeating myself, gentle reader, back in the Dark Ages I undertook postgrad research into the effects of the withdrawal of stage censorship, and, as a result, potentially censorable (or just plain naughty) plays have always held a certain fascination for me. That was one of the reasons I wanted to see Jonathan Harvey’s Beautiful Thing. If it had been produced in the mid-1960s it would most certainly have been censored – although primarily, I think, for its frequent use of the C word. However, the play first saw the light of day in 1993 and by 1994 was winning awards in the West End, long after the abolition of censorship. Just as that was a very different time from the 60s, it’s also a very different time from today. I can’t imagine nowadays a repeat of the incident that apparently happened in 1994 where a local councillor from Bexley went to see it at the Duke of York’s then left after twenty minutes, saying it was misleading to call it a comedy, that they were intimidated by gays in the bar and that it was sickening to see older and younger homosexuals in public together. Three different eras indeed.

But the themes of the play are timeless. Bullying, self-discovery, addiction, and above all, young love; creating a beautiful thing out of a wasteland. 15 year old Jamie lives with his barmaid/pub-managing mum Sandra who rules the roost as any good pub landlady would. When the play opens she is furiously ditching all his childhood games and ephemera as a punishment for his continually bunking off sports afternoon at school. A slightly misleading start, actually, because, as you know in advance that it’s a play about two boys falling in love,I wondered if this was her initial reaction to discovering her son was gay. But no, it’s not; that discovery comes much later. In a close-knit, working-class community, Jamie’s neighbours are 16 year old Ste, very much his opposite as you can’t keep him off the sports field, but whereas Sandra is an essentially loving parent (although you can’t always tell), Ste’s father is an abusive alcoholic and his family basically treat him as their laundry slave, merrily assaulting him just for the hell of it. Jamie’s other neighbour is Leah, expelled from school for drug-taking and other misdemeanours, who whiles away her hours listening to Mama Cass.

When Ste runs to Sandra for shelter whilst his father’s on a drunken rampage, she insists Ste stays overnight and thus Ste and Jamie end up sleeping top-to-tail in Jamie’s bedroom. When Ste returns a second time, bearing the bruises on his back where he’s been beaten up, he stays in Jamie’s room again, but this time Jamie convinces him to go from top-to-tail to top-to-top, as it were. And that’s how their relationship starts, and the rest of the play covers how they deal with it (Ste is very uncomfortable about it at first), how Sandra finds out, and how they all come to terms with their new situation. At the risk of using the J-word, all the characters undergo their own journey, and over the course of the two hours, nothing stays the same – That’s What I Call Drama. And, joy of joys, it even has a happy ending, with Jamie and Ste dancing together with full glitterball effect, and with a positive eye to the future. Although we always suspected it would end happily – the show starts to the sound of Mama Cass singing “It’s Getting Better”, and you can’t get much more positive than that.

It’s a beautifully written, smartly crafted play, with some really meaty characters for the actors to get their teeth into, and this honest and straightforward co-production between the Nottingham Playhouse and the Leicester Curve did it proud. Sadly, you can’t go and see it anymore, as the last three dates on the tour – to London’s Arts Theatre, Cardiff and Brighton – have been pulled due to lack of ticket sales earlier on in the run. As they said in Blood Brothers, an unfortunate sign of the times, Miss Jones. So I’m very pleased we snuck in to see the last matinee, at one of my favourite venues, the Studio at the Curve. For an intimate theatre it has a relatively large stage, so you can put on a full scale show whilst retaining a cosiness that’s lost in the main theatre.

Colin Richmond’s set is usefully shabby and conjures up the relative poverty of the environment without ever going over the top. There’s a very nice contrast between the well-worn old baby bike that’s always left outside, on which Jamie and Leah like to play (emphasising their youth) and the aspirational, quality, hanging baskets that decorate Sandra’s front door, which she guards with her life. And one of the stars of the show is Jamie’s bed, magically appearing from below with a simple unrolling of a blanket and sheet – very deftly done. Mr Richmond’s costumes are also very well chosen, with some delightfully tarty dresses for Sandra, Ste’s too-big sports t-shirt (no doubt, he’ll grow into it), and an outlandish creation for Leah when she’s on her bad trip.

But it’s the performances that really make this play work. Central to the whole show is a fantastic performance by Charlie Brooks as Sandra. Strong, outspoken and determined from the start, she lays down the law (or tries to) right from the start, with a cunning blend of heart of gold and utter bitch. Protective towards her boy but definitely into living life to the full and for herself, it’s a really convincing portrayal of someone who has to work very hard, wants to provide a good life for her family, has a sense of fun but is also pretty ruthless with it. Not being a soap watcher, Miss Brooks is new to us, but she’s got an amazing stage presence and gave a walloping good performance.

She is matched by two other superb performances from the actors playing Jamie and Ste. Jamie is played by Sam Jackson with quiet confidence and growing charisma, as he develops from awkward little boy to proud young man. Thomas Law as Ste gives a stunning mature performance, as he wrestles with the character’s internal emotions and sexual needs; a boy with a man’s problems. The two actors portray Jamie and Ste’s relationship with great tenderness and integrity, creating a very moving account of first love. Not to say it doesn’t have its humour too; at a moment of early intimacy where Ste is laying down on his front and Jamie is rubbing peppermint cream into the bruises on his back, and you think something significant may just be about to happen, Ste hurriedly dismisses Jamie’s invitation to turn over for further treatment presumably in order to stifle a hidden erection in the sheets. Very nicely done. There’s also excellent support from Vanessa Babirye as the troublesome but troubled Leah and Gerard McCarthy as Sandra’s latest flame Tony, propelled into resolving all sorts of family difficulties when all he was hoping for was a few decent shags.

My only quibble with it – and I’m not sure if it’s a problem of the play or the production – is that I didn’t get a sense of the timespan involved. I couldn’t work out if it all happens over a few days or a couple of years. Certainly the boys are 15 and 16 when they start their relationship – but by the end of the play they are regulars at the gay pub, Sandra’s career is on the upturn, Leah seems to be taking steps to improve her life and Tony has gone from hero to zero. It would make more sense (in my head at least) if the story was set over a reasonably prolonged period – but neither visually nor in the text (I think) was there anything to give us that clue.

The performance received a hugely warm reception from the audience in the Studio and, even if it wasn’t a commercial success, artistically and emotionally this will have touched hearts and broken down barriers. A funny and warm play, superbly performed.