BETTY BLUE EYES

BETTY BLUE EYES

LODS at the Palace Theatre, Westcliff

04.05.17

for Sardines

On the day the Palace announce the Duke of Edinburgh's retirement from public life, LODS take us back 70 years to the Royal Wedding that began it all.

Based on the Alan Bennett film A Private Function, it's the tale of meat rationing, dodgy dealing and a clandestine pig, named Betty after the young Princess, which is to be slaughtered for a pork dinner in honour of the happy couple.

It's a charming production, directed with a playful sense of period by Sallie Warrington, who has a fine company at her disposal here.

Led by Michael James as a likeable chiropodist, his gentle personality radiating to all corners of the auditorium – he's an accomplished song and dance man, too. His Lady Macbeth of a wife, all ruthless ambition [the Scottish play is referenced quite frequently] is stunningly done by Joanne Halliday, superbly selling her big numbers: the Primrose Ballroom sequence, for instance, beautifully choreographed, with a lovely vocal trio supporting Halliday's assured voice.

Plenty of memorable character work for the rest of the cast to get their teeth into: Helen Sharpe relishes every batty moment as Mother Dear, Andy Stone is the stammering pig-fancier Allardyce [two more LODS regulars, Simon Sharpe and Peter Brown, are his corrupt fellow councillors] and Andrew Seal, in leather trench-coat and tooth-brush moustache, brings a touch of melodrama to the villain of the piece, Wormold from the Ministry. A special mention for the porcine star of the show, the sow herself. She's an endearing puppet, convincingly manipulated by her land-girl handler, Sara Hickling.

It's a strong ensemble show, with beautifully staged production numbers – the Nobody sequence, with showgirls sporting top hats, tails and canes, Another Little Victory with union flags, the hilarious extended Pig, No Pig scene, or the more thoughtful Magic Fingers, with three housewives suffering the aftermath of war. The dénouement is done with another sustained sequence, the Finale Ultimo where everyone confesses their part in the plot.

The setting [Paul Ward and Kevin Ward] is brilliantly simple: a toy-town cut-out Shepardsford, with the Chilvers' parlour folding out. Smoke from the chimneys, too. The vet's motor-car, ingeniously suggested in the tableau that ends Act One, becomes a lovely little model for the pig-napping that starts the second half.

The music – by George Stiles, to lyrics by Anthony Drewe – is catchy without being memorable [Stiles is no Sondheim]; but it's well served here by a first-rate pit band, conducted by Stuart Woolner. The Musical Director is Rachael Plunkett.

SPAMALOT

SPAMALOT

Leigh Operatic and Dramatic Society at the Palace Theatre Westcliff

20.10.16

for Sardines

A very British blend of Python and panto, it's curious to think that it was born on Broadway.

The show certainly seems very much at home in the lovely old Palace Theatre; good to see one of the stage boxes used briefly.

LODS, directed by Sallie Warrington, give it their all, playing up the silliness, the high camp and the parody in a gloriously enjoyable couple of hours of escapist laughter.

It helps to have a company of consummate musical theatre performers, of course.

The excellent programme lists thirty named characters, so please forgive only a passing mention for Nathan Gray's Nun, Bradley Gull's Monk and Mick Felgate's Sir Not Appearing. Surely some mistake – he sneaks on for at least one other cheeky cameo.

Intellectual high point of the show is Anthony Bristoe's bow-tied historian right at the start; he also gets to play Brother Maynard and a lovely Mrs Galahad, mother to Stuart Woolner's superb knight, “dashingly handsome” with his Cavalier curls. A somewhat less convincing wig for Peter Brown's Sir Robin, clutching his rubber chicken; a great comedy performance, with a chance to relive his Man in Chair triumph for the Broadway number. The fleeting scenery gag is a particular delight.

His unlikely pair is Lewis Sheldrake's Sir Lancelot, transformed for the finale, outed in a disco number, ready for his “still controversial” wedding to David Shipman's Prince Herbert.

Paul Ward makes a perfect Patsy, the Baldricky side-kick to the King of the Britons. His coconuts carefully placed, always in the moment, especially in the Act Two All Alone number.

“Overacting like hell” as the Camelot couple, Neil Lands' flamboyant Arthur King – I never saw Simon Russell Beale in the role, but I imagine it was something after this style – and Helen Sharpe's unforgettable Lady of the Lake, wringing every last drop of gold top out of her big numbers: the Grail Song, the meta-theatrical front-cloth lament and of course The Song That Goes Like This.

The music – and the essential slapstick sound effects – are excellently done; the MD is Rachael Plunkett, with Clare Penfold waving the stick in the Palace pit. Amateur productions have the edge in the chorus numbers, fielding a stage-full of song-and-dance people: the lovely, hard-working Laker Girls, plus assorted peasants, nobles and Knights of Ni.

The scenery, and the shrubbery, are [deliberately?] uninspired – the code set in stone, for instance – and I find the camel gag works best with a gap, and the E at the end. But the Wooden Rabbit is impressive, and the Black Knight the best I've seen. And the show has so many clever, delightful touches: the entry of the Knights stage left, Fantine amongst the French extras, the slapping of the fish echoed by the head-banging Friars ...

production photograph: Gareth Poxon

MADE IN DAGENHAM

MADE IN DAGENHAM

Leigh Operatic and Dramatic Society at the Palace Theatre Westcliff

04.05.16

for Sardines

The Essex première for Made in Dagenham, the Musical. And haven't LODS done the county proud! High production values, from the design to the orchestra to the professional-looking programme.

It's the uplifting tale of the archetypal Essex girls who take on the might of Ford America and the MCPs of the TUC to win their battle for equal pay. Following in the footsteps of Billy Elliot and The Full Monty, it's an unsubtle, manipulative show, redeemed by Richard Bean's engaging book and Richard Thomas's witty lyrics. And here, by an energetic, polished production on the Palace stage.

Helen Sharpe gets some wonderful performances from a strong cast, especially of course the women of the sewing machine room at Ford's.

Laura Hurrell is a wonderful Rita O'Grady, the strong, if initially reluctant, spokeswoman for the group. We see her domestic life almost wrecked by the strike; Hurrell manages to convince both as an ordinary working-class woman and a heroine of the industrial relations struggle for equality. Not to mention selling some of the best numbers in David Arnold's patchy score. Amongst the other broad-brush characters are Kathy Ward's inarticulate Clare [her “Wossname” number is a delight] and Emma Elliot's dolly bird Sandra. Sarah Gallucci brings pathos as well as personality to union convenor Connie, and Jo Whitnell is excellent value as big Beryl, potty-mouthed and incorrigibly outspoken.

Anthony Bristoe is a sympathetically conflicted husband, a New Man in the making, perhaps.

The men have to do a good deal of doubling in this show, so Monty, the Union Man, is convincingly done by Simon Sharpe, who's also the gross club comic Chubby Chuff. Barry Jones has three roles, including a slightly camp Harold Wilson, superb in his number with the trio of Civil Servants. Hard-hearted, hard-nosed US boss Tooley is powerfully played by Lewis Sheldrake, who's also the boy Barry, target of some fruity banter from the women. And Peter Brown works hard in multiple roles, including Latin teacher Mr Buckton, part of a plot device which brings together Rita and Zoe Berry's Lisa, middle-class feminist wife of Ford UK boss Hopkins [Neil Lands]. It involves a protest against corporal punishment in school. Unthinkable now, of course. If only equality had been so thoroughly won.

1968, year of revolution, is compellingly recalled. In the musical idiom of some of the better numbers - “This Is What We Want” for example - and in the settings – the Social Club and the Berni Inn.

Paul Ward's set is minimal – impressive sewing machines, less impressive Cortina – I liked the way the O'Grady's home was set before the overture: kitchen sink, ironing board, lunchbox, Weetabix. Outstanding digital graphics by Andrew Seal – the orange domestic décor, the Dagenham plant – make the many changes of scene simple and dynamic.

Stunning staging of some of the big numbers - choreography by Michelle Taylor – the title song, and the rousing anthems that end each act: Everybody Out and Stand Up.

Rachael Plunkett is the Musical Director, and she's part of the great pit band under the baton of Stuart Woolner.

GHOST

GHOST

LODS

at the Palace Theatre, Westcliff

22.10.15

for Sardines

Screen to stage is a much tougher transition than stage to screen. In the case of this classic weepie, the technical challenges are considerable, and the score, though serviceable, is never going to match the spectre of Unchained Melody, attractively referenced and recycled in the show.

LODS have done wonders with the staging. What look like king-size bedsheets, with phone-pictures of Sam and Molly growing up, fly out to reveal the apartment, with its “statement” fridge. There's much use of back-projection – busy monochrome New York, with smudged shades of passers-by, a wonderful Brooklyn streetscape. The supernatural is slickly done, too – walking through the door, shape-shifting, out-of-body deaths. Particularly impressive are the ghost in the subway sequence, and the Blithe Spirit moment with the poltergeist in Carl's office.

Musically, they do what they can with some pretty anodyne pop numbers – backing chorus and dancers to match. Most successful are the proper trios, dramatically significant, like the Act One finale, Molly's moving With You, and the rappy Focus from the Subway Ghost. Are You A Believer is a nice Gospel number from Oda Mae and her acolytes, but simply serves to slow the action.

Director Peter Brown has a fine cast to work with. Stuart Woolner and Jenny Peoples make believable lovers, with superb stage presence and a confident approach to the score. Outstanding character work from Lawrence Harp as the angry, paranoid Subway Ghost, and from Helen Sharpe as the “storefront psychic”, whose quirky character does much to cut through the sentimentality, a memorable “closing the account” routine a comedy highlight. Lewis Sheldrake is the treacherous Carl, Neil Lands the nasty Lopez.

The ensemble – commuters, tourists in Oda Mae's fantasy – are kept busy with stylised choreography by Gemma Cohen. But the show would work just as well as a chamber piece, without the production number padding. Though the umbrellas at the end of the first act and the rain at the start of the second make for good continuity. The closing scene, with Sam, invisible at first, finally re-united with Molly, and sharing one last dance, thanks to the medium, is touchingly done. I liked Carl being dragged down to hell like Don Giovanni, and the curtain call, with the lovers left alone together at the end.

Excellent work from the orchestra – Paul Day the Musical Director – soulful strings underscoring the emotional moments, bright guitars and reeds elsewhere.

In the West End, the projections were accused of upstaging the passion. The balance in the Palace seems about right, though a better score [and lyrics] would help make a more worthy musical of this iconic celluloid fantasy.

THE WHO'S TOMMY

THE WHO'S TOMMY

LODS at the Palace Theatre, Westcliff

08.05.2014

Like Bach's Passions, this is an iconic musical work, long thought to be unstageable.

It's twenty years now since the Broadway run, and despite the many challenges, the album makes a satisfyingly dramatic stage show.

Mark Valencia's exciting, inventive production for LODS wisely lets the music speak – MD Ashton Moore heads a youthful stage band, fronted by two excellent guitarists. They're a constant presence, of course, but come to the fore in I'm Free, and in the Underture at the top of Act Two: a real rock concert moment, this, with banks of stage lights sprayed all over the Edwardian interior.

The stage boxes are cunningly used, too, in a Brechtian breach of the fourth wall.

The design is strong but simple – bold graphics and brilliant projection. Technology has now made this an effective weapon in the designer's arsenal, embraced by the Royal Ballet amongst many others. The WWII montage, parachutes behind Mrs Walker's pregnancy, the smashed mirror, the 3D animation for the arcade machine. Only the handheld videocam underwhelmed – a lot of cable for not much impact.

Stylistically the show is omnivorous. Was it the gold jacket that reminded me of Lloyd Webber, especially in the first Tommys duet. And a hint of Godspell in Welcome - “Come to this house ...” Musically too – the carol singers were pure Glass, I thought. And none the worse for that.

The narrative – more logical, less anarchic than the album – is clear and uncluttered. Simple mime scenes carry the story forward, at the beginning, in particular, where it's vital to know who's who and what's happening.

And the show is packed with bright ideas – Cousin Kevin cubed [three superbly physical performances], matched by a trio of Local Lasses. A floppy puppet [Gemma Crofts] for the older child, making Uncle Ernie's fiddling even more chilling. The three lads air-guitaring the big number the first time it's heard. The chorus holding flashing lights for the pinball bumpers. The sleepers awakened and looking up to the heavens in the finale. And a strange blue hood to represent Tommy's isolation from the world of the senses.

The older Tommy is an impressive Glenn Sanderson – active and introspective by turns, with a versatile singing voice. The sight of him twitching and trembling – part of the machine – makes a viscerally impactful ending to the first act.

Supported by a committed cast of characters – Sarah Kelleway touching as Tommy's mum, Helen Sharpe outstanding as the Acid Queen, Steve Wilding a shameless Uncle Ernie, and when I saw the show, Freddie Sharpe a confident little Tommy.

We are promised “gunfire and occasional swearing”. Not to mention catatonia, child abuse and a courtroom full of zombies. And yet this trailblazing rock opera from the Sixties somehow makes a musical to appeal to all generations, whilst still preserving Townshend's raw, passionate iconoclasm. And those timeless tunes …

THE DROWSY CHAPERONE

THE DROWSY CHAPERONE

Leigh Operatic and Dramatic Society

at the Palace Theatre, Westcliff

11.05.13

for Sardines Magazine

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..."