Review – The Baker’s Wife, Menier Chocolate Factory, London, 1st September 2024

Apologies for being late to the party with The Baker’s Wife, as Edinburgh Fringe duties kept me away. One of Stephen Schwartz’s more obscure musicals, it’s based on a 1938 film, La Femme du Boulanger; and, to be honest, I knew nothing about either the original film or the 1976 musical. The Baker’s Wife never made it to Broadway nor did it reach the West End until a lukewarm production in 1988 directed by Trevor Nunn. Re-invigorated with a new production by Gordon Greenberg, can the Menier succeed with this show where others failed to make the mark?

We’re in a Provençal village in 1935, where the baker has died four weeks ago and the village is bereft of bread. Can you imagine a French village with no bread? It would be like Hemel Hempstead without the roundabouts. Fear not, mes amis, because a new baker, Aimable, is ready to move into the boulangerie with his wife. His beautiful young wife, that is; Genevieve. He’s hopelessly in love with her; she’s in love with being in love, having a married name, desperate to please him. But does she actually love him? Hein, c’est ça le rub, n’est ce pas? When she leaves him for the Marquis’ besotted assistant, Dominique, all the rise goes out of Aimable’s dough and he loses the will to bake. But will the other villagers put up with that? Absolument pas!

You’ve heard of the old phrase, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover? Here’s one of those times where the cover is immaculate, but the book is nondescript. Paul Farnsworth has truly gone to town to recreate a French village in the heart of Southwark Street. Boules in the square, French road names, café tables with coffee and cognac, accordions gently playing; you couldn’t wish for a more idyllic Provençal setting. To increase that sense of la vie française for theatregoers, some seating is at cabaret tables, in the heart of the action; we sat at Table J and although there are a few scenes where some of the action on stage is blocked, that sense of being a villager more than makes up for it.

And there’s a cast of West End stars to take your breath away. Clive Rowe plays Aimable and his rich, sensitive voice delivers his songs with a genuine sincerity and power. Opposite him, the wonderful Lucie Jones brings energy and cheekiness to her songs, including a brilliant epiphany moment in Meadowlark. The delightfully squabbling couple of Denise and Claude who own the café are brought to life with the always amazing Josefina Gabrielle and the comic genius of Norman Pace; they are matched by the problem pairing of Liam Tamne’s brutal and critical Barnaby and Finty Williams’ submissiveHortense – the underlying sense of domestic violence is delicately but clearly portrayed in these two excellent performances. With Joaquin Pedro Valdes’ persistent Dominique, Matthew Seadon-Young’s pious priest, Michael Matus’ bombastic Marquis and Sutara Gayle’s perpetually offended Therese, as well as a superb wider ensemble, you’ll be hard pushed to find a better-performed show in the whole of London. And let’s not forget Dustin Conrad’s terrific band who play Schwartz’s score with a true feel for its romantic French style.

Such a shame, then, that the story is so slight and unadventurous, and the music is so forgettable. Yes, there are a few numbers that stand out; the opening song If It Wasn’t For You is an amusing introduction to the characters of the villagers, Bread is an entertaining homage to that irresistible smell and taste of fresh bread, and the epiphanic Meadowlark is a powerful cry of assertiveness. But so many of the songs and tunes are immediately forgettable, sadly. And whilst the story does have interesting observations about the nature of forgiveness, both between an unfaithful couple and decades-long family feuds, you can’t help but feel that the show has a very narrow and blinkered vision; other than to make us feel ever-so-French, which it does immaculately.

Despite its faults, there’s no doubt that, in terms of production and performance values, this is one of the best that the Menier has ever hosted; and it’s 100% worth going to see for the spectacle and atmosphere alone. Just don’t expect to remember any of the songs.

 

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

P. S. Sitting in seat J1 had its perks. As the audience were taking their seats, not only did Ms Gabrielle ask me most politely to slightly move my chair so that her entrances and exits could be more gracefully executed, but also Mr Pace (in full character as Claude) said to me bonjour monsieur, to which I replied, bonjour monsieur, comment ça va? To which he replied Ah, vous parlez français, monsieur? And I came back with Oui, monsieur, comme un anglais, to which he replied, Ah, moi aussi! You had to be there.

Review – Assassins, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 8th June 2023

The second show of our Chichester theatre day – and the second not to have an interval, which I’m assuming is a bizarre coincidence – was Assassins, Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman’s 1990 musical about the nichiest of niche subjects. Not only is it about assassins, and not only about assassins of American presidents, but it even incorporates failed assassins of American presidents. You can’t help but wonder if Sondheim could have benefited from a few sessions on the psychiatrist’s couch at the time.

There’s something about this show that inspires directors and designers to think outside the box when it comes to arresting their audiences’ attention. When we saw it at the Menier Chocolate Factory in 2015, the foyer and auditorium were decked out as if it were a spooky old fashioned fairground. That makes sense; the original setting for the show starts at a fairground shooting gallery. But at Chichester director Polly Findlay and designer Lizzie Clachan have gone one stage further (in fact, probably several stages further), as the Festival Theatre is currently transformed into one huge American Presidential Party Convention, all stars and stripes and dancing mascots, the band in MAGA hats (with the acronym MAGA removed, probably wisely), a political glitterfest if ever there was one. Uncle Sam would be having a Field Day. Not only that, the foyer is 100% American, with flags and banners; even the tranquil Chichester open space now hosts a hot dog and burger van.

The initial impact when you enter the auditorium is sensational, with so much colour, action, music and fun. And when the centre stage opens to reveal the White House Oval Office, there’s absolutely no room for misinterpreting the focus of the production. The final scene will reveal the office in tatters, clearly alluding to the 2021 Trump-inspired storming of the Capitol. The proprietor (a galvanizingly slick and cynical portrayal by Peter Forbes), who traditionally is the owner of the fairground, is here transformed into a generic American president of the current era – a mix of Trump, Nixon and maybe a spot of George Dubya thrown in for good measure. A master showman, he takes control of the event. There are already a few assassins present, but the proprietor invites members of the audience to come up to join them and maybe take a pot shot at a President; after all, it will make their inadequate and troubled lives so much more worthwhile. Obligingly, Leon Czolgosz and John Hinckley make their way to the stage; think The Price is Right but with added weaponry.

By the time the opening number – the incredibly cynical Everybody’s Got the Right (to be happy) – is over, there’s an incredible sense of satisfaction and excitement filling the auditorium. But there’s one more big modernisation shock for the audience – the role of the balladeer has now been split into three roving news reporters, representing CNN, MSNBC and Fox – so at least two of them are respectable. Huge video screens either side of the stage bring us live coverage of news developments at the assassinations (or wannabe assassinations) giving it a very strong up-to-date vibe. This all feels so innovative, so exhilarating; it’s everything you want from a spectacular night out. In fact, you’ve already nailed your own five-star reaction to your own individual mast.

But then something strange occurs. Having peaked so early, and so brilliantly, there’s really only one direction of travel for this show – downwards. It’s like you’ve experienced an extraordinary sugar rush; and then half an hour later, you’re starving. I think there are a number of reasons for this. Firstly, it’s far from Sondheim’s best score. There’s only one other song in it that – for me – stands out, Another National Anthem. In effect, musically, there’s nothing to match the visuals that the production constantly hurls at us; you won’t find anything of the nature of the Star Spangled Banner here. Apart from that, my own feeling is that the nature of the show is more contemplative and introverted than befits this framework. For sure, some of the assassins are strong, riveting characters; John Wilkes Booth, for example, is portrayed as totally driven and Charles Guiteau is a mass of vanity and self-confidence. However, the essentially feeble, misfit nature of most of the other characters tends to weigh heavily on the atmosphere of the show. As a result, there’s a disconnect between the brash pizzazz of its style and its actual content, which tends to get dwarfed or drowned out.

Nevertheless, there are plenty of stand-out moments; the deaths of the assassins (those who die, that is) are portrayed spectacularly, with Booth taking his own life on a bale of hay, Zangara virtually strobed to death on the Electric Chair, and Guiteau prancing and preening his way through his hanging. And the use of the real footage of the assassination of John F Kennedy brings a horrific lump to your throat, with immaculate split-second timing of the excellent Samuel Thomas’ Lee Harvey Oswald poking his gun through the back curtain at precisely the right moment.

The show boasts an ensemble of superb practitioners of musical theatre. Danny Mac is incredibly good as Booth, full of attack and presence, manipulating and proud. Harry Hepple shines as Guiteau, his irrepressible vanity and showmanship busting through every move. Carly Mercedes Dyer and Amy Booth-Steel are a delightful double act as Lynnette “Squeaky” Fromme and Sara Jane Moore, the wannabe assassins of Gerald Ford (a hilarious brief cameo from Bob Harms). Jack Shalloo is a deeply disturbed John Hinckley, willing to assassinate Reagan to impress Jodie Foster, and Nick Holder puts in a strong performance as Samuel Byck, the degraded Santa Claus, who attempts to assassinate Nixon. It’s a very tough role, as Weidman gives Byck long and intense speeches, which are unbalanced with the style of the rest of the book, but Mr Holder keeps our attention throughout. The always reliable Liam Tamne cuts a fine figure as Balladeer 1, his rich voice working to maximum effect. But everyone puts in an excellent performance; there’s not a weak spot in the cast.

Given all the spark and brashness of the production values, I was surprised to see, at the end of our performance (which was the final preview), that it garnered a muted response from the audience. I was expecting a general roar and massive standing ovation, but no; and I think the cast were disappointed too. Trouble is, it’s not the kind of show that sends you out on a high. In fact, the show ends when everyone on stage points their guns at individual members of the audience, eyeballing us directly to create maximum discomfort; so it’s no wonder our mood plummets.

Brought bang up to date, and with more glitz than you could shake a stick at, it’s doubtless a landmark production. But there’s something, somewhere about it that just doesn’t quite work. If you’re an aficionado of Sondheim, you’ll want to see this show and draw your own conclusions about how successful it is or isn’t. It’s not an easy ride – but it is an unforgettable one.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Dick Whittington, Birmingham Hippodrome, December 30th

Well this was the panto with the starriest cast of all this year. Joan Collins, Julian Clary, Nigel Havers fresh out of the jungle, Keith Harris and Orville – yes indeed! Still treading the boards and the duck still can’t fly.

And then the stirring unquiet on the internet that Joan Collins wasn’t appearing in many of the performances because she was suffering from flu. Well there’s a lot of it about. And I’m sure she would have had a flu jab. Still, even if she was just doing her best to appear it would have been a good thing.

Alas no. When we arrived for the matinee last Thursday there were no notices up saying “the management regrets” or inserts in the programme that read “Miss Collins role will now be played by…” So we thought we were on to a winner. But as the lights came down, the first person on the stage was the Company Manager, regretting that a significant person in their company was unable to perform. A huge wave of misery passed through the auditorium. Stoically we applauded the fact that a local lad would be playing her part. (Yes, lad, not lady).

But you can never book a show on the strength that a certain member of the cast will definitely appear. It’s one of the rules of theatregoing. The whole cast could be off with rabies and they could bring in residents from the nearby old peoples home to read the script, it’s allowed. Even when the theatre has trumpeted the appearance of Miss Collins since the early part of last year. The show must go on, not the star.

So you can sense my disappointment.

But.

This is a majorly terrific panto, with some of the funniest and liveliest panto performances you are ever likely to witness. Let’s start at the top. Julian Clary is the Spirit of the Bells – a male fairy. No sniggers, please, or rather, loads of sniggers. Whenever he appears he lights up the stage and there is an incredible comfort to his interaction with the audience. You can just trust him to say the right thing at the right time. And his singing…. I wonder what Lee Marvin would have made of it. And his interaction with Orville… lying in bed with the duck, and just saying “tempted…” really funny stuff. I won’t tell you any more of his lines because the show’s still on for another month.

Nigel Havers is King Rat, and a dashed fine attempt he makes at it too. Lots of current references, particularly to his time in the jungle – if you didn’t see him in “I’m a Celebrity…” you’ll miss a lot of the jokes. Now if he had been appearing with Joan Collins I can imagine the sparkiness between the two of them would be great. However we saw Wayne Fitzsimmons – usually one of the dancers – appearing as Queen Rat. It was a performance full of venom but without much subtlety or comic timing; still, he remembered all his lines and kept the show going.

And yes, Keith Harris and Orville, and Cuddles, is back. You have to say about him – what a trouper. Like Julian Clary, his interaction with the audience is brilliant, his routines are funny and you should have seen and heard the way the kids were laughing. Full blown, uncontrollable, bottom of the heart laughter. An excellent performance.

Liam Tamne and Kathryn Rooney as Dick Whittington and Alice Fitzwarren also performed their socks off. Very likeable personalities, sang and danced extremely well, but also with good comedy skills, usually at the mercy of Mr Clary. I wasn’t quite so sure about Jeffrey Holland as the Dame, I think the part was somewhat underwritten and his costumes weren’t really over-the-top enough. Probably too much to compete with the Spirit of the Bells, but it did come over a little underwhelming as a result.

Adding in an athletically appealing pantomime cat and a Sultan of Morocco who provides (in the words of John Barrowman in a Birmingham panto a few years ago “something for everyone”), and you have a really super show. I wouldn’t worry too much if Joan Collins is off sick the day you go – you’ll have a great time.