Tag Archives: Leicester

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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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 – Les Miserables, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 10th November 2018

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I wouldn’t say the first time we saw Les Miserables that we hated it, but we certainly didn’t get it. It was 1986. We were too young, too wet behind the ears and, frankly, not enough things had gone wrong in our lives to be able to appreciate it. Then, a few years ago, at the suggestion of Mrs Chrisparkle’s boss at the time, we chanced to find ourselves at the Imperial Theatre in New York to see the new high pizazz production that was described as Les Mis for the American Idol Generation.

I’d love to be able to put the New York/Leicester production (because they are more or less the same) up against the original 1980s London production and see if and where they differ. I sense that Laurence Connor and James Powell’s version is somehow more in-your-face and no-holds-barred than Trevor Nunn and James Caird’s. Just like when we saw it in New York, this production is outstanding, no two ways about it. Instant ovation, that seemed to go on for hours; great performances, set, musical direction, everything about it is superlative. The cunning projected backdrop that recreates the scenes in the sewers, or makes you think the students are marching towards you, works so well; but no better moment than when Javert falls to his death (oops spoiler alert) and moves from vertical standing up to horizontal splashing down purely by means of optical illusion. It’s absolutely brilliant.

I could save myself a lot of time by simply referring you to my 2015 review of the production because the only difference is substituting the slightly smaller Leicester stage for the grandeur of the New York Imperial. All the great effects are the same – the lighting in the barricades scene, the pure heroism of Red/Black, and the emotional charge of moments such as Bring Him Home and I Dreamed a Dream.

Comparisons are odious when it comes to performances. When we saw it in 2015, the management had clearly hired the best cast money could buy and they were all extraordinary, no exceptions. The UK touring production also has a fantastic cast but, in comparison, I felt they hadn’t all entirely grown into it yet. To be honest, the performance I saw still counted as a preview; and to compare that to a Broadway cast a few months into their run is probably not entirely fair. When we saw it in Broadway, we cried at Fantine’s death, Bring Him Home, and the final scene. We continued crying as we left the theatre. We resumed crying (embarrassed now) on the streets, walking back to our hotel. We threw ourselves on the bed and started crying all over again. THAT’S how emotional it was. In this production, I started to cry during Bring Me Home but got my cool back before the song had finished. Admittedly, when Fantine re-appeared to welcome Jean Valjean into heaven, I dissolved completely; but I was fine again by curtain call. If I compare the number of minutes spent in tears between the two performances then New York wins hands down on the emotional front.

Our Jean Valjean was Killian Donnelly, a great actor with a tremendous voice, whom we enjoyed in Kinky Boots a couple of years ago. He really brings out the kindness and altruism of the role, largely as a result of exploiting his extraordinarily delicate tone when he sings. Some actors could take to this with bombast and turbo power, but Mr Donnelly makes it his own through sheer subtlety and grace. Javert, his arch-opponent, is played by Nic Greenshields, whose physical presence is so perfect for a dominant and domineering role. His is a powerful performance, both in the singing and the emotions. One thing that really works perfectly is how the two actors/characters both age during the show. Les Miserables spans the decades, so it makes sense for them both to become greyer as time goes on, and Mr Donnelly in particular gradually starts to shuffle and to stoop so that you really get the impression of an old man running out of time.

There were excellent supporting performances by Tegan Bannister as Eponine and Katie Hall as Fantine, full of emotion and superb singing. Martin Ball gives us an almost pantomime villain performance as Thenardier, with the always terrific Sophie-Louise Dann as his ghastly wife. Harry Apps makes a remarkable professional debut as Marius – such a pivotal role, as you have to be both young and naïve yet mature enough to want to marry Cosette, and he pretty much nailed that; and Will Richardson cut a truly heroic figure as the inspirational Enjolras. I don’t know which child actors appeared in the show we saw, but whoever played little Cosette was absolutely perfect; and the friendship between Ruben Van Keer’s Grantaire and Gavroche was also very tenderly portrayed.

I had huge – and I mean huge – expectations of this show, having been blown over by the New York production, and I reckon they were 98% met; and it’s only going to get better and better as the tour progresses. After Leicester it travels to Dublin, Edinburgh, Manchester, Birmingham, Milton Keynes and Newcastle. No hesitation in recommending it whole-heartedly; take lots of tissues.

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

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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 – Lucy Pearman, WIP and a Cabbage, Leicester Comedy Festival, Heroes @ The Criterion, Leicester, 25th February 2017

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Having seen a motley collection of the great and the okay in Pick of the Fest and the unforgettable ultimate therapy performance by Mr Richard Gadd, we thought we’d give this year’s Leicester Comedy Festival a gala send-off by seeing three productions on the final Saturday. To make it go with a swing Mrs Chrisparkle and I were accompanied by Lady Duncansby and her butler Sir William as well as my noble Lord Liverpool and the Countess of Cockfosters. Six Characters in search of Comic Relief, one might say.

I’d recognised Lucy Pearman’s name from the Edinburgh Fringe schedules but we didn’t see her show last summer. You can find some rather wry videos of her doing comic things online and I thought she would be worth a punt, if you’ll pardon the expression. WIP and a Cabbage, I’m sensing, was taking her show about a Cabbage (stay with me) and adding some WIP to it – but I’m not entirely sure. This description is all you need to know about the background to the show: ‘Traditionally, unmarried girls were sent into the veg garden to choose the ‘perfect’ cabbage’. Who knew?

Lucy is the new maid who has to escape the clutches of the lascivious Lord Wynd and has three things that she must do: avoid kissing him, find the best cabbage, and make sure she doesn’t reveal her bad side. I know this for a fact, because she asked me to read these instructions out to her. It could have been worse; she got Lord Liverpool to hold up a piece of paper that read “New Maid” for ages and then made him sit on a collapsible chair. We always knew where she would find the best cabbage, because she handed it out at the beginning of the show; in feeble comparison, others, like my namesake Chris (fistbump), Lord Liverpool and a distinguished looking chap in the second row were all given (let’s not pretend to be proud) a Brussels Sprout each. How it shamed our manhoods.

I realise as I’m telling you all this, gentle reader, that probably none of it makes the remotest sense. However, the proof of the pudding in a comedy show is how much you laugh, and I have to say we all laughed an awful lot. Ms Pearman has a lovely stage presence and is a gifted comic and clown, using a sotto voce delivery that can reduce a grown man to pure humiliation. “I’m beginning to regret you” she quietly admitted, as I failed to keep up with her dictation, much to the amusement of everyone else. Having established earlier on if I could read (I could), she also found out I could write. “Show off, aren’t you” was her only response.

Ms Pearman embodies gentle lunacy with a withering touch. She reminded me of what an extra member of Spymonkey might be like as she sprang from innocent maiden to red-raw monster and back again (you had to be there). Very assured with any curved balls the audience sent her way, it was forty minutes of pure silliness and I absolutely loved it. I’ll definitely keep an eye out for what she’s doing next. And next time, I’ll bring my own cabbage.

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

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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 – The Same Faces at the Black Prince, Northampton, 24th September 2016

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If you are one of my more astute and faithful readers, you may remember that we saw the Oxford Imps at the Edinburgh Fringe this summer and that that was our first foray into the potentially dangerous world of improvised comedy. I’m not sure why improv had never really appealed much to us; I think it’s to do with the fact that whilst everyone was raving about Channel 4’s Whose Line Is It Anyway, Mrs Chrisparkle and I watched it once and found it a rather irritating and self-indulgent programme. I know – imagine our cheek. However, age must be softening our sharp edges, and, having thought that those little Imps were a lot of fun, for the second time this year we found ourselves in front of a team of comedy improvisers and with not a clue as to what to expect.

The Same Faces are based in Leicester but once a month venture down south to God’s Own County, where their regular stage is at the back of the Black Prince on Kettering Road in Northampton. It’s a very good venue – a friendly pub with a good range of drinks at reasonable prices – and the back room is absolutely perfect for the task. There was a good turn out last Saturday, with the number of people arriving exceeding the number of chairs. So that’s either a good thing, or a bad thing, depending on your point of view (particularly if you hoped to sit down!) It’s also only a fiver to get in if you book in advance (£7 if you don’t) so that’s incredible value for over 2 hours of entertainment.

The group’s line-up changes from show to show, but for last Saturday’s extravaganza we had Boss Man Tom Young, regular Dave Gotheridge, and semi-regulars Jen Kenny, Ryan Vernal and Jaz Cox. They each bring their different gifts to the performance; some are a bit more quick-thinking on their feet than others, some have a more natural authority than others, some are more eccentric than others – stir all that into one melting pot of talent and you’re going to get a totally different show every time. Especially as it is, of course, the audience who give the performers the subjects that they are going to be dealing with.

As I’ve only seen the one show, I don’t know to what extent the “games” that the group play change from month to month; I sense they don’t change that much, what changes is the line-up and the subjects. I’ll not be able to remember all the games from Saturday night – and me just spouting a list won’t be that interesting to you, gentle reader – but some of them leap to mind, for what will become obvious reasons as we go on…

Two of my favourite games in the first half were “Party Quirks”, where one member of the team was holding a party and the four guests all had some kind of quirk about them, which had been suggested by the audience whilst the party host was out of the room. When he returned and they enacted out the party, he had to guess which particular problem each of his guests had. Jen was given “God Complex”, which gave rise to some nicely patronising behaviour, and Dave had to channel his inner Russian because his quirk was that he was unable to say the word “the”. The other excellent game was where Jen was a barmaid and each of her customers had a particular problem that they had to sing to her about, and then she had to sing each of them in turn a solution for their problem. Who knew mice in the skirting board could be so melodious?

But it was in the second half where things got considerably more hysterical. I really enjoyed the game where Jen and Dave had to advertise a new album on a subject given by a member of the audience: this week, Firefighters. So they had to create some excellent ideas for the other team members to sing; perhaps most memorably, the ever charming and deeply emotional smash hit, Shiny Helmet. And there was a mannequin game where Tom chose two members of the audience to come on stage; each had to prompt one member of the group into movement by tapping them on whichever part of the body they wanted them to move. One of these two hapless members of the public was Mrs C. I could see in her eyes that she wasn’t following the instructions at all, and so once the game began she instantly started making a mess of it. Eventually she got the hang of it, but instructing others on which limbs to use doesn’t really count as one of her personal strengths. Absolutely hilarious.

The Same Faces perform at the Black Prince on the final Saturday of every month, so if you fancy supporting a new local comedy venture, I’d really recommend it! Unfortunately, I don’t think we can make any more this year, but we will certainly be back for more in a few months’ time!