Sunday 18 December 2011

Farewell to Priscilla the Musical


Richard Grieve, Don Gallagher, Oliver Thornton, in Priscilla. Photo Credit: The Guardian

I’ll admit immediately: it’s the end of its run, and I hadn’t seen Priscilla before due to my snobbery towards the ‘jukebox’ musical. However, Priscilla reminded me why London - poor, troubled London, is embracing the jukebox musical this year: the pure joy of it all! I felt practically old, it having been so long since I’d heard an audience stand up and dance and sing along. The smiles in this show are infectious, but (for me at least) the ballads therefore felt forced, necessary to the plot forumla; illustrating those moments in life where one might ‘feel a song coming on’. Yet I do wish that I had a personal orchestra and could spontaneously burst into song, so don’t blame the characters for it.

The ensemble were terrific (as I should expect by now), bursting with energy. Like in Crazy For You, this is a dance heavy musical, and it therefore is worth mentioning Kanako Nakano who’s sharpness and smiles always stood out. The production and costumes too were even more impressive than expected, by the end I felt blinded by all the glitter balls and sequins (not that this was a bad thing). It is a tremendous example of the spectacle we’ve come to expect as an audience. Dancing paintbrushes, levitating divas, gigantic heels and so much more: Priscilla literally sparkles.

Camp-ness runs through the veins of this musical. It not only dazzles, it waves its perfectly formed arse in the face of homophobia. This is a life-affirming story of three men who have already embraced the song ‘I am what I am’, and instead are pursuing much more personal goals; and yet the bluntness of the sexual humour occasionally just felt too crude, surrendering to stereotyping. Still, the three leads (Don Gallagher, Oliver Thornton, Richard Grieve) work seamlessly together; that powerful embodiment of triple threat. This all singing, all dancing show pulls it off because at the centre of it all, the lead stories act with heart; something such a vibrant musical could easily have fallen into the trap of foregoing for pure spectacle. But Priscilla has everything. The perfect show for the Christmas season.

P.S. When is the Palace Theatre going to undergo a renovation so that at the very least, fifty percent of the audience can see from their overpriced seats?

The Ladykillers ***

The Cast of The Ladykillers. Photo credit: The Guardian.
The Ladykillers was originally a story dreamt up by Bill Rose which has required a mighty reimagining for the stage by Graham Linehan. Michael Taylor’s set has accomplished this transition excellently, deserving an ovation of it’s own. Wonderfully quirky, whenever a train passes it comes to life as if possessed by poltergeist stage hands, and the heist is represented by remote control cars reflecting this show’s childish character. But it’s this denial of any realism which detracts from the show being as funny as it has the potential to be. Five thieves, posing as a string quintet, ‘rehearse’ their plan in a little old lady’s house (played delectably by Marcia Warren). Of course it all goes wrong, because good must defeat evil. As One Round (Clive Rowe) gives the game away, they must bump off the old lady, but would rather kill each other than her.

The original substance of the story, reflecting the spirit of post-war Britain, is lost upon a contemporary audience; what the character stereotypes once stood for, are no longer applicable. I don’t associate One Round with any oppressed, used masses; he is simply as dumb as he is played, and therefore feels like nothing more than a device. Similarly, Peter Capaldi seems to be playing a vampire, otherwise known as the cartoon villain (it’s a wonder he hasn’t got a moustache to twirl). Notably, Ben Miller’s character, Louis Harvey (a Romanian gangster) is laugh at loud funny as he actually addresses the reality of the situation: of course the old woman is irritating for the robbers, and the comedy out of place. This cast of established comedic actors are more than capable of subtlety, their timing and teamwork is so precise, and shine as individuals too - yet their performance dampened by their seemingly being stuck in an old world comedy of less sophisticated values. Ben and Max Ringham’s music however, is a significantly shining element of the show, enhancing their performance through individual string lines signifying each character, and punctuating the laughs.

This doesn’t mean The Ladykillers isn’t hilarious. The slapstick is pure choreography; there is an exquisite moment when the only place they can hide on set is squeezed together in a tiny cupboard obviously, and only Rowe could play a cello like a violin. It is the sort of comedy which borders on crazy, and needs no explanation. Capaldi’s mad professor is also bestowed with genius one-liners, including ‘being fooled by art is one of the primary pleasures afforded to the middle classes’. It’s a shame I wasn’t so fooled. Linehan’s jokes can be repetitive, and therefore lends the characters little three-dimensionality. Stylistically, it is a superb play, yet Foley’s direction also lacks balance with a necessary suspension of disbelief from it being so heightened.