Crazy For You ****

It’s definitely been a while since something like this has been done: a pure – no frills – classic. Crazy For You is so familiar, yet more refreshing than most shows on at the moment in this respect that there’s been no nasty tampering. It’s as if I’ve stepped back into good old Gershwin’s day – and I wasn’t even there. You forget that timeless tunes like ‘Embraceable You’ and ‘I Got Rhythm’ all stepped out of the same man’s head, and can’t help but bow to him.

Crazy For You is packed with showgirls and smiles, you’d have felt short-changed were you to leave without a flash of jazz hands and they were most certainly shaking the show into life in the first five minutes. It’s so rare to see a dance break, to the poetic lengths of those seen in the MGM musicals, and yet Stephen Mear’s choreography is constantly vibrant; it reminds you of the escapist essence of musicals and their innocent ability to simply make you smile at those moments in life that make you break into song and dance. Although the simplicity of the production means the technical features are more decorative than anything, the filmic contrast of Peter McKintosh’s set brilliantly outlines that division between musical and reality, conjuring an earthly background for big dreams.

In the midst of the glamorous ensemble, an almost immaculately compelling unit and full of character as individuals, something sits slightly off with our ‘Fred Astaire’ and ‘Ginger Rogers’. Like a pair meant to be, Sean Palmer (Bobby Childs) might benefit from Claire Foster’s (Polly Baker) sharpness, and vice versa, Claire from her partner’s broad voice. In a show of squeaky showgirls, Claire’s southern accent is too coarse, her transition from delicate head into money notes left wanting. Despite this, these are the subtlest issues in an all-round triple threat cast, which is undeniably a momentous skill. Palmer has been blessed with the cloned genes of John Barrowman and communicates the starry eyes enamour for Broadway with the charm of a tap-dancing Cheshire cat. It should be mentioned that to stand out in a chorus this clean and frankly exhausting is something special; and Richard Jones (at least I believe this is his name, I struggled to match the face to a headshot) is most certainly that. A cheeky face in the sea of legs and teeth, that sold the innumerable dance sequences with that little bit more sparkle.


Speaking of bad jokes, yes I was just ‘crazy’ for the show. It’s full of tasteful smiles and slapstick of a bygone age; almost like recovering a little gem of a family heirloom left in the attic. ‘What Causes That?’, the duet between Palmer and David Burt (Bela Zangler) is a drunken homage to the comedy of manners device of mistaken identity. Bobby Child’s has dressed up as the music hall producer Bela Zangler in order to convince Polly that he’s not bent on repossessing her theatre but saving it. So of course when the Bela turns up (both ‘Bela’s’ drunk at this time) and meets himself, laughter ensues: “I am beside myself” - as they say to one another - with laughter.


If you’re not a Gershwin fan, or prefer les musicales miserable, you should at least go for the showgirls. You’ll have stars in your eyes.