THE FULL MONTY

Springers at the Cramphorn Theatre

19.11.16

Could have been another Billy Elliott, or Stepping Out. But Broadway got there first, and smelted Sheffield into Buffalo [in the Danish version they're brewery workers from Copenhagen!].

This is Springers' second Full Monty, and it features some of the same members we saw seven years ago.

The Cramphorn stage is simply dressed with tall white screens – the suicide motor the only projection, I think – with piano to the left, restroom to the right, and Ian Myers' band firmly out of sight.

Confident, compelling performances from Peter Spilling and Simon Brett as Jerry and Dave, the odd couple at the centre of the sentimental tale. Joining them as Hot Metal in the pitiless spotlight at Toni Giordano's are Dominic Light's sensitively played mother's boy Malcolm, Jason Norton's amusingly uptight Harold, Julian Harris's mischievous Horse and Bradley Cole's quietly determined Ethan.

Strong support from Sara Mortimer as Harold's materialistic other half, Sophie Lines as Dave's loyal wife, and Helen Arber as Jerry's acid-tongued ex. The seen-it-all piano player – hip flask and Marlboros – is nicely suggested by Natalie Schultz.

Nathan, Jerry's tug-of-love son, is given a relaxed, realistic performance by Mattie Scott.

The score is far from memorable – Let It Go the one exception – but the numbers are engagingly staged [choreography by Kieran Young] – and all unplugged: the a cappella Scrap, the witty Man duet, and the touching You Rule My World.

A sell-out success for Springers, directed, as in 2009, by Andrew Shepherd. So, despite not being “young, pretty or any good” will they bare their tattoos again in 2023 ? Book now …

ROCK OF AGES

ROCK OF AGES

Southend Operatic and Dramatic Society at the Palace Theatre Westcliff

18.11.16

for Sardines

An unabashed juke-box musical, showcasing the greatest glam metal merchants of the 80s. Though not, as it turned out, the title number from Def Leppard.

And it brought a diverse crowd to the Palace to have their faces melted at the tea-time matinée: rockers, pensioners, school-kids enthusiastically supporting their mates.

The balance between tribute, parody, humour and love-interest is a delicate one, but SODS serve up their usual very professional production values, and give this slight story a more than decent outing.

The eighties hits are strung out on a thin line of plot. The usual things – dreams of stardom, threat from heartless developers, a naïve girl torn between fame and true love. Taking us back to sexier times ? Well, more sexist, certainly …

The show is driven by the music, excellently done by the on-stage “Arsenal”, with new MD Keeley Wickham on keys. The nature of the unsubtle eighties sound means that dialogue sometimes has to be shouted over the underscore, and the lyrics are occasionally hard to catch. The numbers, or at least the titles, are loosely tied to the narrative, and the colourful chorus sometimes seems to comment on events. There's little conventional choreography [Vicky Wyatt] – the two finales come closest, with ironic jazz hands at the end of Act One – Whitesnake's Here I Go Again. Many of the numbers are given a dramatic twist; all of them are compellingly performed. A trio, later joined by Stacee and the girls, for Styx's Too Much Time On My Hands, a duet for Damn Yankees' High Enough amongst the highlights.

The versatile, talented company take the rock genre in their stride, led by David Watkins and Milli-Mae Cage as the love interest, brought together by a shared taste for slurpees.

Plenty of broad-brush character work from, amongst others, director Ian Gilbert as the villainous Hertz, Ewan Dunlop as his OTT effete offspring, Les Cannon as the club owner, enjoying an Oscar moment – one of the few real speeches in the show – and elevation to the angelic choir at the end. He was also the voice of Ozzy Osbourne before curtain-up.

The preening rock star Jaxx, skin-tight leggings to attract the groupies, is played with evident relish by Nick Bright, and Heather Cooper brings strength of character and a fine voice to city planner turned protest leader Regina. A subtler, but no less effective performance, with no histrionics, from Phie Carlile as Justice Charlier, proprietor of the Venus Club strip joint.

The show is held together by the sound guy/MC/narrator/dramatic conjuror Lonny, brilliantly done by Jonny Buxton in a mullet, guying the genre, working the audience, interfering and generally being annoying, though not as annoying as Russell Brand.

The staging is simple – cut-away wall, the band upstage, the Bourbon Club. An ingenious fold-out platform brings us the men's bathroom, the planner's office …

Not the best of the juke-box musicals, but hard to imagine it better done on the non-professional stage, a good night out for rock aficionados and musical theatre fans alike.

SEE HOW THEY RUN

Hutton Players at Brentwood Theatre

17.11.16

A quintessential English farce: coincidences and cross-purposes, mistaken identities and vicars with no trousers. And very much a period piece, though when it was written it was contemporary, the victory bells still some months in the future.

It's given an affectionately polished production by William Wells for Hutton Players. His large cast work hard to keep up the pace and capture the sublime silliness of the plot. All in a spacious, beautifully designed set with french windows, fireplace and the suggestion of a solid flight of stairs.

Four dog-collars and a pectoral cross amongst the dramatis personae: Roy Hobson is very funny as the kosher clergyman – archetype of a kind of vicar long since extinct. James Biddle the visiting preacher amusingly bemused by the chaos in the vicarage. The “also-ran” Hun on the run is Lewis Symes, and the “cheery old soul” the Bishop of Lax is played by Gavin Leary – a nicely timed performance, though a little more gravitas and a good pair of gaiters might have helped. Law and order is represented by Ed Harvey's sardonic sergeant.

Survivors of a tour of Private Lives are “a caution” in trousers, actress and bishop's niece, now the vicar's unruly wife, confidently played by Laura Fava, and, Elyot to her Amanda, Gary Ball's Clive, witty and hysterical – a fine physical performance. Ida the maid, struggling to bring sanity and order to the vicarage, is given an endearingly authentic characterization by Eleanor Burgess.

Many of these are classic figures of farce, a wonderful gift to the actor. None more so than the frustrated spinster of this parish, played in this case by Lindsey Crutchett in an outstanding tour-de-force. She doesn't miss a single trick; every moment is milked for laughs: losing control of her legs, sliding down the wall, snoring, hitting the cooking sherry … She looks the part too – sensible shoes of the right vintage, stocking seams, tweed two-piece.

Not all the accents were echt period RP, not all the laughs were perfectly timed. But even on opening night we enjoyed a truly hilarious two hours traffic of the stage: the Harvest Capers, the funny walks, and, at the end, the plot re-capped in impressively slick cross-talk.

PIAF

Kytes Theatre Group at Brentwood Theatre

10.11.16

Pam Gems' dramatic biography of the great chanteuse is not a perfect play. Husbands, lovers, protégés go by in a flash, in a confusing sequence of disjointed scenes. In 1978, when many more people remembered The Little Sparrow and her remarkable story, the central performance [by Jane Lapotaire] was widely thought to be much better than the writing.

The same could well be said of this welcome Brentwood revival, directed for Kytes by Graham Poulteney. It is memorable chiefly for the outstanding performance of Tori Till in the title role. Sassy, crude, but vulnerable in her trademark black dress, she held the stage, especially in those moments in the spotlight, recreating the distinctive songs that made her famous. And that unique voice, easily heard over the traffic and the cutlery.

The tone, the timbre were uncannily accurate – a real frisson when a word - “bat”, or “sonne” say – absolutely hit the nostalgia spot. The acoustic Heaven Have Mercy, with live accompaniment on guitar, was touchingly done, and her No Regrets final number had huge emotional power, bringing fans to their feet as it did over half a century ago. And the final scenes, her tragic decline and her deluded determination, were movingly played.

She was well supported by Romy Brooks as her old mucker Toine, their love-hate relationship nicely suggested. Good work too from Wade Owojori in a multitude of roles, including the boxer Cerdan and the singer Montand, and from Gareth Locke as Little Louie and many others. The duologue between Leplée [Bob Thomson] and Coquatrix [Paul Sparrowham] in Act Two was convincingly done.

But this was a disappointingly flawed production. Forgivable perhaps on opening night were some hastily curtailed sound and light cues. None of Piaf's co-stars sang in French on stage. The odd cliché might be excusable too: bicycle, striped tee-shirt, baguette – only the onions missing. And no-one expected faultless French, although a stricter dialogue coach might have eliminated the worst howlers. The announcer, for example, had little to do other than to say, quite frequently, “Mesdames et Messieurs” … ironically the same actor was the American MC who couldn't get Edith's name right. And I don't think Aznavour was ever called Charlotte.

More surprisingly, Piaf was allowed [encouraged? directed?] to use a cod French accent throughout, which made it much more difficult to suggest her roots in the gutter and her emotional depths. Rather like asking Helen Mirren to play the Queen in a plastic mask. Bizarrely, not all the actors ventured down this “Allo Allo” avenue.

But good to be reminded so persuasively of the songs, and of La Môme's eventful life, though I would guess it might be hard to follow without at least some knowledge of her career and the colourful characters who briefly shared it with her.

OLIVER!

CYGAMS at the Civic Theatre

09.11.16

Lost count of the number of Oliver!s I've seen. From the old New Theatre to countless amateur companies and schools. But Bart's songs and Dickens' story keep us coming back for more.

This is the fourth staging of the piece by Young Gen. Sallie Warrington's production is bold and colourful, set against a nice perspective London décor, misty and evocatively lit, with only a hint of panto.

And of course she has a large cast of talented youngsters to work with – from the tiniest orphan to the chubby hubby Bumble [Edward Bonney]. In the title role [shared on other nights with Gene Gardner] Tommy Edwards is a melancholy Oliver, begging for more from the Beadle on high, and making a fine coffin follower. He handles his songs well, both solo and ensemble. Jack Toland's Fagin has an unusually impressive singing voice too, while Matthew Barnes brings a strong stillness to the evil Sykes.

Hope Davies gives a moving performance as Nancy, building her Act Two solo dramatically, floored by Sykes and rising defiantly as the music swells. Bryan Cass the Musical Director.

A likeable Dodger from Charlie Toland, a lovely Widow Corney from Amy Hollingsworth with a “beguiling smile”, and amongst the supporting roles, a 24-carat cameo from Paul French as the oleaginous Sowerberry.

Some words are lost, some chances missed, and occasionally the vital spark seems lacking. But there were plenty of great moments – the chimney sweeps, Oliver's lesson in light-fingered thieving, with the gang surrounding him, his little bed amidst the Cries of London, the chorus work in Be Back Soon, It's A Fine life, led by Nancy and Izzy Churches' Bet, and the show-girls in Oom Pah Pah, the mood suddenly changing as Sykes is heard off stage.