THE
DROWSY CHAPERONE
Leigh
Operatic and Dramatic Society
at
the Palace Theatre, Westcliff
11.05.13
We
begin with a prayer offered in the darkness. "Oh dear God, let
it be a good show; and let it be short …"
The
hundred-year-old darkness of the Palace was a superb starting point
for LODS' Drowsy Chaperone, which was both very good, and quite
short. It's a musical within a comedy, a hymn of praise to Broadway's
Golden Years, hosted by the nerdy, knowledgeable Man in the Chair. He
doesn't get out much, is clearly widely read [Salman Rushdie and The
Greek Myths on his bookshelf] but his pride and joy is his collection
of original cast LPs. And tonight he has picked out a treat – Gable
and Stein's The Drowsy Chaperone of 1928.
As
he lowers his stylus, the crackly static is replaced by the excellent
pit band [Stuart Woolmer conducting], and his little apartment fills
with that original cast of stock characters, pouring in from the
wings and his Tardis kitchen cupboards.
Not
a weak performance, or a dull moment, in an impressive staging of
this cult show, which started life at a stag night in Canada in 1997.
David Shipman is Robert Martin, with his wooden acting, his
roller-skates and his All-Brite smile, whose wedding to Oops Girl
Janet van de Graaff [Kathy Clarke], with her priceless Show-Off
encore, is at the heart of the cheesy plot. Both excellently done, as
is Samantha Gourley's Chaperone of the title, belting out her rousing
anthem and rootling for bootleg in her ample corsage. Youngsters
Matthew Ford and Lily-May Byfield are outstanding as the Best Man [a
stunning tap routine with Shipman] and the Aviatrix ["what we
now call a lesbian..."], a brilliantly bold and brassy
performance. And I mustn't forget LODS' chairman, Andrew Seal,
"chewing the scenery" as Latin Lothario Adolpho.
And
then there's The Man In The Chair. Anonymous, agoraphobic, living
every moment of his favourite musical, torn between sharing trivia,
footnotes and tittle-tattle and retaining the integrity of the work,
his intermission limited to a power bar and a quick pee. A memorable
character from Peter Brown; a genial companion in his cardigan and
carpet slippers, he can't resist joining in the production numbers,
crashing his sauce-pan-lid cymbals after a reviving drink …
The
dance routines, choreographed by Sarah Robb, are polished and
touchingly true to the spirit of the show, and Helen Sharpe's
direction, with Rachael Plunkett as her MD, ensures a slick,
professional feel to this unique entertainment. I shall long remember
the big I Do In The Sky number at the end, with Trix's biplane
assembled before our eyes from the white goods in the kitchen.
The
production values are spectacularly high: cloche hats and loads of
authentic-looking frocks, detailed props – even The Enchanted
Nightingale has its own LP sleeve – and the glossy programme boasts
not only a plethora of professional production shots but even a
pull-out facsimile of the programme from the Morosco première.
Let's leave the last word to the Man in the Chair: "So, that was the Drowsy Chaperone. Oh, I love it so much! I know it is not a perfect show, the spit-take scene is lame and the monkey motif is laboured... but it does what a musical is supposed to do! It takes you to another world and it gives you a little tune to carry in your head for when you're feeling blue, you know? As we stumble along on life's funny journey. As we stumble along into the blue..."
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