Tag: Musicals

La La Land

Lauded as a return to the great Hollywood musicals of yesteryear, the very thought of ‘La La Land’ made Liam go weak at the knees. Must be the gay gene. Either that or arthritis. So we sank into our comfy seats at Cinema City, big drinks in hand and surrounded by the wealthy wrinklies of the county for a grey hair-raising, foot-tapping, old school show. Sadly, for me, the hype didn’t quite live up to the reality. The plot – a love affair between a failed actress and her down at heel jazz player – was engaging enough. I’m partial to a simple boy meets girl romance (or boy meets boy, girl meets girl for that matter). But the ambitious and much-praised opening danceathon at a traffic jam on a LA freeway was underwhelming and the other song and dance routines peppering the film seemed a bit random. Emma Stone was dazzling in the lead but Ryan Gosling as her beau, while very nice to look at and not at all bad on his feet, was well, flat, acting-wise. The film was atmospheric and partially redeemed by the closing ‘what if?’ scene so I suppose the moral of the story is that love doesn’t always conquer all.

With a full chorus of rave reviews and gongs galore, the film will undoubtedly conquer all at the Oscars so what do I know? And Liam loved it.

Here’s the official trailer. It’s better than the movie.

 

Billy Elliot, Live from London

Billy Elliot1September was a bit of a cultural marathon ending in a theatrical flourish. Liam surprised me with an early birthday present, a broadcast of the musical Billy Elliot streamed live from London. Set in a small mining community in the northeast of England during the 1984/85 miner’s strike*, Billy Elliot is the tale of a young boy’s unusual ambition to become a ballet dancer set against the backdrop of a divided community on the edge of defeat and the inverted snobbery of his family.  Obviously, his nearest and dearest get behind him in the end and Billy goes on to play the lead in Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. What we didn’t know when we took our front row seats at Cinema City was that the show was also going to be beamed to 554 cinemas in Britain and Ireland and to others around the world – simultaneously across Europe and with time delays to Asia, Australia and North America.

The performance began with a tribute from Elton John (who composed the score), a back stage tour from one of the current quartet of Billys (and our Billy for the day), the incredibly gifted Elliott Hanna, and an introduction by Stephen Daldry, the director of the musical and of the 2000 film on which the stage show is based. The gloriously uplifting finale was a specially choreographed foot-tapping mashup by 25 Billys from past and present. The raw energy and mesmerising talent made me feel distinctively average.

I have to confess that I’m a bit of a Billy Elliot disciple. I blubbed all the way through the film, cried buckets during the stage show (which I saw in 2008) and wept uncontrollably into my large glass of Pinot Grigio through the broadcast. I wasn’t the only one failing to get a grip. The broadcast became the first live event to go to Number 1 at the UK Box Office. It was seeing those hunky miners in tutus that did it.

I leave you with Grandma’s Song (different Billy, same grandma). If you don’t like a little bit of swearing, you’d best change channels now.

*This was the second strike-themed show of our September culture-fest, the first being the fabulous film Pride which we saw at the beginning of the month.

Godspell Reloaded

Godspell Reloaded

Godspell from Mixed Voice

September has been a bit of a culture fest – a fabulous film about rainbow comrades rattling the tin for the cause, Liam’s born again experience when kooky Kate flew out of reclusion and, right at the start of  the month, a musical treat from Mixed Voice at the Norwich Playhouse. Every year, Norfolk’s premier entertainment company asks the audience to vote on a show they should try on for size. Last year it was Rent. This year, the vote went to a revival of Godspell, the retelling of the parables attributed to the famous Galilean. With its happy clappy tunes, a flower power cast in primary colours and a newly polished script fit for the iPhone generation, it’s huge fun. Not nearly as successful as the unstoppable and overhyped Lloyd Webber juggernaut, Jesus Christ Superstar, Godspell offers more of a playground intimacy and really suits a smaller venue. Believers and non-believers alike, who could argue with the carpenter’s message of peace and love, particularly when it’s delivered by the multi-talented players of Mixed Voice? But I did spot a small congregation of dog collars fixed firmly to their seats during the standing ovation at the end. Maybe they didn’t like the frocks. There’s no accounting for taste.

Smash

Smash

We have an embarrassment of TV choices courtesy of Virgin Media but it’s funny how the more channels we get, the more selective we become. It’s a reflection, perhaps, that more of the same isn’t much of a choice at all. So, as the nights draw in, we camp in front of the box hitting the boxed sets. Our latest televisual distraction is Smash, an American soap-style drama about the birth of a stage musical from kernel to opening night – Glee for grown-ups. Less sugar, more spice. The series was a joint birthday gift from our old friend, Clive. Frustrated music-hall maestro, Liam is a sucker for this kind of thing; the gay cliché cap fits my husband very well. The fictitious musical – Bombshell – focusses on the tragic life of Marilyn Monroe as she is passed around the troops. It cleverly parallels Norma Jean’s descent into Hell with that of the musical lead. With an Emmy, a Grammy and Globe nominations under its belt, the show tangos along nicely with twists and turns to suit even the most dedicated conspiracy theorist. There are a few nice tunes and more than a few nice routines but don’t expect to actually like any of the characters that much (with the possible exception of the impresario played by Angelica Huston). There’s an awful lot of back-biting, bitching, double-crossing and good old fashioned infidelity – all in a day’s work for the Broadway board-treading business. It’s a jungle in there and Liam loved every minute.

Once Upon a Time…

Once the MusicalAnother weekend in the Smoke, another birthday surprise, this time from my old dance partner, Ian. We were treated to matinee tickets for Once, a new musical recently imported from across the Pond. I’d never heard of it but since we’re living in the sticks with our fingers off the pulse, this will surprise no-one. When we realised the set was based around a Dublin bar, we were immediately hooked. By the end of the performance, we were on our feet (as was everyone else). I’m a sucker for a love story and Once ladles it on with a trowel. Cue the brooding young busker with a broken heart and the sassy Czech lass with a quick tongue and a dodgy Hoover (don’t ask). Boy meets girl supported by a catholic cast of Celts and Slavs. Everyone sings, everyone dances and everyone fiddles, strums, beats and blows: the ensemble is the chorus and the orchestra, all wrapped up in an emerald green bow and a Bohemian flourish. Funny, touching and tender, we wept in the aisles. ‘Twas a love story to gladden this old cynic’s heart.

A Night at the Rock Opera

RentLiam’s birthday is coming up so I treated him to a night at the rock opera. Players from local not-for-profit entertainment company, Mixed Voice, were strutting their stuff at the Playhouse Theatre trying their hand at ‘Rent.’ It may be a bit of a gay cliché but Liam loves a musical and ‘Rent’ is a musical he loves. Loosely based on Puccini’s ‘La Bohème,’ the tale focuses on an eclectic troupe of impoverished young artists and musicians in the late Eighties struggling against a bitter wind in Alphabet City, the once avant-garde (but now ruthlessly gentrified) district of Manhattan. While Puccini laced his opera with consumption, Rent is stalked by AIDS, the kiss of death back in the day. As the characters try to make ends meet, some meet their end. Despite the misery, Rent is neither depressing nor sugar-coated. But it is tough to stage and perform. A hugely complex, multi-layered score is punctuated by irregular rhythms, constantly changing tempos and complex harmonies which, if poorly delivered, could be a total dog’s breakfast. I had wondered if the cast would pull it off. Well, they pulled it off with some polish, receiving a well-deserved standing ovation. Even a normally reticent Liam leapt to his feet wanting more. Shame there wasn’t an encore.

 

Postscript

Methinks Mixed Voice liked the review:

Nine to Five

Nine to FiveDespite a head cold that had me supping on the gin and Lemsip, Liam managed to get me to Dolly Parton’s  ‘9 to 5’ at the Theatre Royal, Norwich. Adapted from the 1980 movie comedy starring Dolly, Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda, ‘9 to 5’ is a high-energy musical farce about three overworked and overlooked female office workers exacting delicious revenge on their lazy, lecherous, sexist, misogynistic boss. We had terrific seats for a terrific show with some terrific tunes and terrific lines (“You’re just a typewriter with tits.”). Amy Lennox* was uncanny in the Dolly role. If you closed your eyes, you’d think it was the chesty chanteuse on stage. Natalie Casey as Jane Fonda was superb with sharp comic timing and a tremendous voice. Slightly more disappointing was Jackie Clune in the Lily Tomlin part; a few more dance lessons might help. Veteran trouper, Bonnie Langford, almost stole the show in her supporting role as the boss’s fawning assistant.  Bonnie can throw her legs higher and wider than anyone I’ve ever seen on stage, screen or porn flick. The gorgeous Dolly has quite a following among the gay fraternity and the audience was liberally sprinkled with fairy dust, including the man next to me whose shocking hair don’t would have him run out of Soho. Dolly herself appeared as narrator on a large clock-faced screen above the stage. Saying “thank you” to Norwich was a nice touch and Dolly brought the house down when she launched into the familiar ‘9 to 5’ theme at the end.

*We saw the talented Amy Lennox in ‘Soho Cinders’ last summer and she was superb in that too.

Matilda

Matilda

Matilda2We ventured down to the Smoke during the big freeze for a night at the theatre. Surprisingly, our train ride both to and from London was untroubled by the threat of snow drifts wafting across the frozen flatlands. Our West End treat was Matilda, the RSC musical adapted from Roald Dahl’s dark parable of good and evil. The gong-drenched pantomime was a slick, visually stunning, superbly staged, brilliantly choreographed, foot-tapping extravaganza that left a warm glow like a vintage brandy on a chilly night. The performance was only slightly marred by the quartet of ladies sitting immediately behind us who provided a running commentary while rustling their way through a hundredweight of Maltesers. Every appearance of a cute child on stage was greeted with an “aah” and, since much of the cast is made up of cute kiddies, there were a lot of aahs to sit through. A word of caution, the deafening crescendo of pre-pubescent sopranos singing in perfect harmony might crack your glasses and make your ears bleed.

Matilda1

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Blood Brothers, the Farewell Tour

The flatlands of Norfolk were draped in thick wet fog when Liam dragged me out to see ‘Blood Brothers’ at the Theatre Royal. The show is on its farewell tour after a 24 year run in the West End. The damp opaque night was a fitting overture to the brother’s grim tale of twins separated at birth. Loosely based on an Alexandre Dumas novella, Willy Russell’s gritty kitchen sink drama is acted out on the mean streets of Sixties, Seventies and Eighties Liverpool. Apart from “Tell Me It’s Not True,” there are very few memorable melodies in the show; Blood Brothers is more of a play with music than a musical play. The annoying pop-star placement trend continues to afflict the UK stage. Niki Evans, an ex-X Factor contestant, was cast as the hapless mother and ex-Wet Wet Wet pretty boy front man, Marti Pellow was the narrator. In fact, Ms Evans was indisposed for our night at the theatre and Tracey Spencer (who usually plays a supporting role) slipped into her shoes. Like Cinderella, it was a perfect fit. Ms Spencer has one of those rare seductive voices with a goose bump touch. It was she and Sean Jones (who played the doomed twin, Mickey) who stole the show. Interestingly, the two actors are married in real life. Less interesting was Marti Pellow’s performance. He delivered his lines with misplaced melodrama (think Shakespeare with a laboured Scouse accent) and he was very pedestrian (literally and metaphorically). Despite this, the show got an enthusiastic standing ovation. My verdict? I was on my feet too.

Cue the video. This is Barbara Dixon who played the original mother way back in 1983.

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Life is a Cabaret, Old Chum

Liam has made friends with the Theatre Royal which means he’ll be dragging me along to every passing production doing the provincial rounds. As a taste of things to come, we popped along to catch the latest re-working of a treasured old favourite. Deliciously dark and tragically ironic, Cabaret is poignantly set within the doomed metrosexual decadence of Weimar Berlin before the monstrous social cleansing of Nazi Germany. These days, it takes big money to put on big shows and the best way to get bums on seats is to roll out the big names. This time round, the Kit Kat Club starred Pop Idol winner and grannies’ favourite, Will Young, as the Emcee and ex-Eastender, ex-Bionic Woman, Michelle Ryan as Sally Bowles. Putting pop names in the frame isn’t always a recipe for success. Young Will was a tasty revelation. He stepped along with camp Teutonic aplomb and wowed the audience with voice and perfectly paced pathos. Michelle Ryan, on the other hand, was barely serviceable as Sally. Her voice simply isn’t strong or distinct enough to carry off the big numbers and her Julie Andrew’s impersonation had to be propped up by a more talented chorus line. In between the big budget numbers, the dislocated scenes with the run-of-the-mill supporting cast were pedestrian and the deliberate pregnant pauses gave the impression that lines had been fluffed or forgotten. Of course, I’m a small gun critic so what do I know? But I suspect that when the show hits the West End, the big guns may well turn on at least one of the the big names.

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