LONDON TRIP REVIEWS

Dec 02

After a “year off” from elongated trips to the capital (giving my wallet a well-earned breather) I descended to the big city once more to see what the West End had to offer. Following a rather heartening experience (in the main), I have tip-tapped my thoughts into the PC for your perusal. Subjective appraisals of ten of theatreland’s offerings follow.

Taboo - The Venue
If you don’t know where The Venue is - and I didn’t - it’s up a side street off Leicester Square. Don’t expect a twenty-foot neon sign pointing the way to Taboo either - easily missable, this is a cosy little venue with more of a cabaret feel to it than that of a theatre.

Sitting in the audience, waiting for the show to start, I was struck by the sound of an unmistakable middle-eastern accent - lo and behold, behind me sat Uri Geller. I had barely enough time to check my watch was still working before the show began.

Boy George had written some good songs prior to the show, and these are sprinkled liberally throughout, seamlessly fitting with the music written specifically for inclusion here, but there are no really outstanding tracks. The overall standard is high, though, and the gusto of the performers (particularly Phil Nichol as Philip Sallon - a man some may know from the comedy trio ‘Corky and the Juice Pigs’) is a boon, but let’s get this straight - it’s the venue that makes the show. Although there is a proscenium of sorts, it is effectively redundant, as the stage extends into and through the audience - allowing performers to interact with them freely (and directly - again, particularly the Philip Sallon character) to great effect. Boy George also acquits himself well in the larger-than-life Leigh Bowery character: “Somebody told me Uri Geller was in the audience; I like you, you’re like me, you bend things…”

There were a few alternates in the performance, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell without the programme, or the pre-show announcement; Nathan Taylor (Marilyn) and Alana Phillips (Kim) were both excellent in their respective roles. Another stand-out (literally) was the audacious David Burt (Petal) who growled his way through the performance in much the same way he did in Jesus Christ Superstar - though with more revealing attire. It was an experienced cast all-round, so full of talent that even Nicola Dawn (Copacabana; Fame) was only involved in a minor role, without a major song to her name.

The plot is flimsy and ultimately inconclusive. Things happen, but there is no real flow to them; it’s more a series of snapshots than a firm storyline. Only semi-autobiographical, it seems to fall between the stools of fiction and biography, and doesn’t really get away with it. However, if you take it as a piece of entertainment, and gloss over the exceptionally forgettable dialogue and plot, it’s more than possible to enjoy this as a piece of theatrical cabaret. It’s also nice to see another show dragging the twenty and thirty-somethings into the theatre (as with Our House, We Will Rock You etc.), even if it is on the strength of a back catalogue rather than a “new” score. Nice also to see a few brave older souls with broad minds coming to what is a somewhat “fruity” show.

Bombay Dreams - Apollo Victoria
Bright and spicy, this one - though the second half drags a little and the final resolution is a little hurried (and includes a quite ridiculous fight scene, which is not really necessary, too long and ill-designed). An (admittedly impressive) water feature was also seemingly levered into a few extra scenes when it only really added to one (Shakalaka Baby). It distracted from at least one scene, where rain began to fall at a poignant moment - this actually led to audience laughter, tarnishing the sentiment.

Not all are winners musically - Like an Eagle, Shakalaka Baby and Chaiyya Chaiyya are the outstanding numbers. Generally, the cast all acquitted themselves well, though I had some minor reservations about Wayne Perry’s (Akaash) somewhat inexpressive voice and questionable acting. Preeya Kalidas (Priya) was sweet (vocally and dramatically) and Raj Ghatak (Sweetie) was suitably endearing.

Like Taboo, it’s not a great script; the humour is fairly lame and characters are flimsy and clichéd - as is a lot of what they have to say. Unlike Taboo, however, it is not suited to its venue. Almost unrecognisable from its Starlight Express days, the Apollo Victoria is one of those theatres that can sap a performance - by that I mean that the audience applause dissipates rather than reverberates. Unless the audience’s response is riotous (which it wasn’t) it becomes muted - the audience doesn’t hear itself clearly, and the applause doesn’t get the chance to swell.

Overall, it’s an energetic piece with vibrant dancing in a refreshing Asian style. This is why it stands out, and this is also why it was thought a risky venture. It deserves a better venue, but just about gets away with the one it has.

Phantom of the Opera - Her Majesty’s
Those of you who remember previous rambles of mine may recall my affinity for the Phantom. It is somewhat awkward to judge the cast/performance without reference to previous performances, so I won’t attempt this here. I’ll start by saying that this cast is unexceptional - no-one provides a really stunning performance. This (perhaps) is as it should be (it is an ensemble piece, but for the Phantom). However, I have seen every role played to a higher standard in the past. Celia Graham (Christine) had one of those questionable voices that lacks certainty and strength - it seems about to crack, but never actually does. John Owen-Jones as the Phantom was the biggest disappointment. Though he added a slightly more baritone element to the part (which was a nice change) he lacked emotional variation. The tortuous scenes were reduced to him simply shouting, and the angry moments were, well, not very angry (perhaps that’s the amiable Welshman in him, or perhaps that’s me being unfair). The show relies on the strength of the Phantom, and when he is lacking, the show misfires - and that’s what happens here.

All of this is disappointing, but more annoying is the ending, which is getting worse; the reveal is now clunky in the extreme, and was even mistimed at this performance. Maybe I caught it on an off day, but the shine seems to be starting to fade on this fine show, which is perhaps why for the first time (that I have been there) it was a non-capacity audience. I hesitate to say it, but perhaps Phantom’s time in London is almost up.

Contact - Queen’s

Having only just recovered my composure from seeing the infamous spoon-bender at Taboo (I jest), I saw yet another minor celebrity at Contact; again, sitting just behind me. Maybe I’m paying more attention - or perhaps this was just the luck of the draw. This time it was the still-lovely Janet Ellis (Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s mum, for those younger readers).

Anyway - to the important bit. I may soon have to refresh what I say about dance - I’ve always professed to be distinctly unmoved by it, and while this remains largely true, three shows in recent years have shaken this viewpoint. The first was ‘Crazy for You,’ then came ‘Oklahoma’ (at the National) and finally ‘Fosse.’ The first two of these were choreographed by Susan Stroman, and it is she who has presented another tour-de-force of gyration. Helped with a cracking (albeit recorded) soundtrack, this show could have been dull. Indeed, without the wonderful violin of Stephane Grappelli, the first section (of three) may have dragged. However, with a neat twist at the end of this act, followed by a marvellously witty restaurant-based scene, the interval arrives all too quickly. The last segment is perhaps the best, and certainly the most lively, leaving me with the same breathless-just-watching feeling as did Fosse; and that’s no bad thing. It’s unfair to single out names here, so I won’t - it’s an ensemble piece, and the dancing is the real star. Some have tried to enter into a semantic argument about what this is - not strictly a musical, or simply a dance revue - but this is beside the point - it’s a great piece of theatre. Go see.

Les Misérables - Palace
There is very little that can be said about Les Misérables that hasn’t already been said. This version of the show hasn’t diminished in the slightest from my first viewing of the show some seven years ago. I could pick on the minor niggles - Hans-Peter Janssen’s (Jean Valjean) questionable diction in the earlier more wordy section of the show and his failure to even attempt the ridiculously high notes in Valjean’s repertoire - but I won’t, as his wonderfully operatic voice more than made up for the digressions. It was nice to see Michael McCarthy back as Javert - absolutely fantastic, as ever, and still by far the best I’ve seen in the role. Even with two “understudies” on the day, this was an almost perfect cast in a near perfect musical. Simply magnificent, and still the setter of the standard in the West End. Long may it continue.

Romeo and Juliet - Piccadilly
I’ve never liked Romeo and Juliet - the play or any of the performances I’ve seen of it. Even West Side Story only just escaped the storyline, for me at least. It’s always been so easy to dismiss the two lovers as silly children, and the families as silly adults. With this in mind, I didn’t expect to like this version. Like a similar, recent, Gallic import ‘Notre Dame de Paris,’ it was not met well by the critics, but unlike Notre Dame (which I quite enjoyed) it deserves much of the criticism. The tunes are performed well, by a cast that does its best, but are uninspiring and rather monotonous. This is not helped by Don Black’s clunking, banal lyrics (‘men are fools, they are like stubborn mules’) which are, sadly, oft repeated.

Mild ripples of applause met the end of the tracks until the first half stopped. I say “stopped” as that’s what it does (as opposed to ending, finishing or concluding) - it just stops. The auditorium lights come up, and the audience collectively looks at itself and pauses before realising that ‘ah, right, this would be the interval then.’

The staging is basic and rather poor - an unnecessary walkway runs along the front of the circle, and performers use this for no apparent reason - it certainly doesn’t assist the action or involve the audience. What appear to be children’s climbing frames form the basis of the sets, but there’s no real imagination in how they are utilised. Again, the actors clamber around these with no real purpose.

As I say, the cast do their best, bless them, particularly Jane McDonald (as the Nurse) and the ridiculously-talented-for-one-so-young Lorna Want (Juliet). There are some flashes of how much better this could have been in the second half, where the plot becomes clearer. There are also some better, more honed songs here, but it is generally too little, too late, and the slight improvement only serves to remind how poor the rest is.

It would be very easy for me to say this was dire, or some equally strong pejorative term, but that would perhaps be a little harsh. It is, however, a deeply flawed and rather pedestrian show. The quiet auditorium (numerically and in terms of response) does not augur well for the longevity of the show’s run, and to use a simile used by most, if not all of the reviews, I fear that like the Shakespearian couple, the show is doomed.

Chicago - Adelphi
I hadn’t been to see Chicago since being spoilt by the fantastic original cast (Ruthie Henshall, Ute Lemper, Henry Goodman, Nigel Planer), and I wasn’t planning to see it here. But for the early closure of ‘The Full Monty’ leaving an unsightly hole in my schedule late in the day, I wouldn’t have. With no real ‘stars’ showing (unless you count TV’s Gaby Roslin and Michael Greco) it was perhaps not a prime time to revisit, so my expectations were not high.

These things aside, the show is still a little gem, largely because of the cracking music and sensuous dancing, but also as all of the cast perform superbly well - even the TV couple. The only question is Michael Greco’s unusual voice (which is, well, unusual). It sounds like he’s singing through a tube. There’s little he can do about this, of course, and his performance is good enough for me to dismiss this as a flaw, but it is a disconcerting point nevertheless.

I am somewhat surprised that the show is still running, five years after it opened. A national tour next year, and the imminent movie version (starring Richard Gere, Catherine Zeta Jones and Rene Zellweger) will doubtless hasten its departure, judging from the less-than-full auditorium on this visit. Umoja - New London
Another remodelled auditorium following the recent departure of a Lloyd Webber musical (in this case, Cats), the almost unrecognisable New London has now obtained a proscenium.

Life-affirming, vibrant, colourful, energetic, joyous, bright and open-hearted - pick an adjective and it will doubtless fit this celebration of South African music. The elderly narrator (with more than a hint of Nelson Mandela about him) takes the audience through a feast of music from its tribal roots to the modern age. This is feet-stomping, hand-clapping, arm-waving stuff, and the cast give encouragement to a world-weary audience to shed the grime, cold, and rain for a couple of hours and join in. Moving in ways (and with a natural fluidity and energy) that most people can only dream of, this is a spirit-enhancing flood of rhythms, melodies and harmonies that you would be hard-pressed to resist. A joy.

Our House - Cambridge
Taking a novel theme and treating it in an accomplished manner helps any play/musical, and Our House is a good example. Starting with a young boy’s clash with the law at sixteen, it runs two parallel stories of that boy’s life, based on the two choices open to him at that time. In one, he is essentially a good kid; in the other he goes to the bad. This could so easily have become clichéd, but it keeps its hold on reality - permeating both stories, both lives, with shades of grey. It’s not clear until fairly late on how the stories are to ultimately play out, and this uncertainty keeps the interest simmering nicely. An intelligent and witty script adds to the mix, as do strong performances from all concerned, and an evocative, if simple, black and white set.

On the negative side, the sound quality is poor, and very few of the lyrics can be heard clearly, particularly (but not exclusively) in the first half. It is a sign of how much the show stands on its own that this doesn’t really matter - the songs support the action rather than run it.

Of course, most will come and see this for the music of Madness, which runs like a staccato train down the spine of the piece. Just like Mamma Mia (to which the show has been compared) mines the seam of Abba’s music, so too does this hit the Madness magic. There is so much more to this, however, than a simple conceit to fit the music, and it stands up well as a musical in its own right (additional songs have also been written specifically for the show). More than Mamma Mia, it is Blood Brothers that comes most to my mind, musically and dramatically, when looking at the feel of the piece. Though this is ultimately less tragic, and indeed dramatic, than Willy Russell’s show, the same themes of poor beginnings and parallel lives run through both. I doubt whether Our House will match the success of either of the aforementioned shows, but it has a good chance. It doesn’t exactly bring the house down, but it is a very good show.

125th Street - Shaftesbury
Following a chaotic night of a ‘live’ TV show, this is another opportunity to savour some rhythm and blues and sixties soul classics. There have been many shows that have done this, to varying degrees, and with varying degrees of success. This is, on balance, one of the more successful approaches. Doubling-up the audience as that of the fictional TV show allows the performers to interact with the audience almost at will, making this a strange hybrid of concert and play - but it works.

Much has been said about the amateur element involved here (one pre-auditioned, one plucked from the audience), and whether it is successful or not. Well, for this performance it was - a young girl from Liverpool gave a strong if not altogether charismatic performance, and the plucked-from-the-audience girl from San Diego (those confident Americans…) gave a solid, if obviously nervous, rendition of ‘Over The Rainbow’ (not very original, I’ll grant you, but a strong performance under the circumstances).

The first half is a bit of a mess, but I suppose this is understandable, from the chaotic nature of the story (there isn’t a “plot” as such) and the need to set up the characters for their second-half performances; and what performances. As control slowly takes hold, and the music comes to the fore, we are treated to solos and duets aplenty, and then the ensemble burst forth in the customarily rousing finalé/encore. Without exception, the performances are flawless; to name those worthy of note would be to list the cast.

This deserves to last longer than it probably will - but I suspect it is the kind of show that will only really hit its heights on a national tour.

And that, as they say, was it. From the highs to the lows to the end of the shows for another year (as Billy Joel didn’t quite say). With many nice surprises, and few disappointing ones, London continues to be the thriving hub of theatre it has always been. The last five quarters have been tough, but things are on the up, and I can only encourage people to get out there and support the theatres as much as they can. If politics determine that fewer come from overseas next year, Brits must take up the reins and help keep our theatres thriving.

END.

(Dec 2002 / David Heppell / david.heppell@eidosnet.co.uk