01.04.2014
A
nurse from the North Country longs to be on the burlesque stage. Her
ambition is fostered by three men in wartime London – a
black-marketeer Mr Fixit, a war-hero toff and a Polish Jew in exile.
Matthew
Bugg's labour of love began its life here in Ipswich last year. Now,
after a national tour, substantial rewrites and cast changes it's
back at the Wolsey before taking to the road once more.
The
setting for this intimate tale is simple but evocative –
footlights, a bed and a baby grand , with the tiny stage of The Night
Light at the back. One of the many members' clubs, deep underground
in the dark, which kept Londoners entertained through the Blitz; “We
Aim To Tease” its motto. Clandestine meetings in the blackout for
The Enemy Within – homosexuals at risk of blackmail or jail.
These
worlds are powerfully evoked in the opening minutes. One of the many
strengths of this piece is the bond between the musical numbers and
the messy lives of those involved. It helps, of course, that the
company of six are all actor-musicians. So the emotional ties between
Miss Nightingale herself and her composer/pianist and her impresario
are repeatedly represented by their saxes and her muted trumpet. Art
mirrors life on this cabaret stage - “I Don't Care” - and, most
effectively, the Bluebird song, expressing her distress at the loss
of her soldier brother Harry. And it's Harry at the piano, played by
Bugg himself. A heart-stopping moment.
The
casting is very strong. Harry Waller is outstanding as George, the
refugee who longs to bring a little bit of his [1930s] Berlin over
here to Blighty, torn between his singer and his lover. Jill Cardo is
the forces sweetheart – more Gracie than Vera – who puts over the
numbers with style and heart. Her invocation of Noel Coward,
gorgeously dressed, one of many highlights of the burlesque act; the
fallen Blue Angel, the sausage-starved housewife, the riveter ...
Tobias
Oliver is an uncomplaining dogsbody. Tomm Coles is Sir Frank, who
seeks Maggie's hand in a lavender marriage, and Adam Langstaff is her
amoral first love, Tom, who threatens to ruin everything by
blackmailing Frank over his affair with George.
Despite
the tightening and the rewrites, there is still a good deal of
expositional dialogue, with the themes and the history sometimes
getting in the way of the characters. And one confrontation seems to
be conducted entirely in clichés – it's never a good sign when you
can anticipate the rejoinders before they're spoken.
But
the music more than compensates for any dramatic shortcomings.
Traditional love songs - “Mister Nightingale” - the clever trio
“Could It Be”, the key changes in “Someone Else's Song”, the
feel-good flash-forward ENSA finale, and, best of all, the a
cappella
tap-dancing “Stand Up And Be Counted”. This, of course, is pure
pastiche, and these ersatz saucy wartime hits are superbly done, from
the double-entendre
come-on of “Let Me Play On Your Pipe” to the priceless “Sausage
Song”.
Miss
Nightingale is a touching, thought-provoking reminder of a lost
world: light entertainment and illicit love in those dark days of the
1940s.
this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews
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