Nicole schreibt...

It felt like I had returned from New York only yesterday and yet I was off on another long theatre weekend, this time to London. Of course this one had been planned for much longer, but it gave me a good opportunity to really mentally compare the two musical theatre capitals (won't get into it here though). I was also very much looking forward to this particular trip as it was finally one to fully enjoy a few proper big new productions again. The first being the much-hoped for transfer of "Crazy for you" from Chichester with Charlie Stemp in the lead, that took me to the Gillian Lynne Theatre on my first day after arriving. I had always thought an upbeat classic like this would be perfect for these dire times we live in, but sadly tickets (that were most definitely overpriced) didn't sell at all initially and I hope that the universally positive critics and WOM will help spur this show onto success. I have a particular fondness for this musical, that was first presented on Broadway in 1992, very losely based on an old musical called "Girl Crazy" and stuffed with George Gershwin's biggest tunes. Back then, I was still a dumb teenager whose first and only introduction to musical theatre at the time had been be pompous blockbusters of the period and when I had first listened to the cast recording, "Crazy for you" did nothing for me at all. But I ventured to see it live in London nonetheless, chiefly for Ruthie Henshall, who was already associated with said blockbusters I worshipped at the time. And for the first time I realized just how joyous and wonderful those ancient "song and dance" musicals can be with "I got rhythm" in particular blowing me away and helping me make a huge step forward in widening my musical theatre horizon. So I was very happy I finally had the chance to revisit this show and with no one less than Charlie Stemp in the lead, the one performer London presently has who comes close to the classic "triple threat" leading men of yesteryear. And fabulous he was, of course, showing off his amazing dance skills along wih some big comedy moments and crooning classic ballads as Bobby Child, the New York banker who ends up in a small hick town in Nevada only to find love there. I wish I could say the same for the leading lady Carly Anderson as Polly and I am very much aware this is a personal thing rather than criticism of her, but to me her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard or a croaking budgie. Still, she, too, danced up a storm and I enjoyed myself very much with the glorious old Gershwin tunes and silly story. And seeing Susan Stroman's crazily inventive choreography with the (still) breathtaking "I got rhythm", I do understand why so many on Broadway feel that "New York, New York" is a bit of a dud, for which she could certainly have done better. Stay with me on memory lane. There's hardly any show with which I have such a complicated love-hate relationship as with Miss Saigon, one of those blockbusters of the late 80s/early 90s which I LOVED back then and which I only grew to hate later, as I matured into a feminist and also began travelling to South East Asia (including Vietnam) and realized what a godawful misguided Old White Man's Fantasy of the meek exotic oriental female Miss Saigon presented. And clearly I wasn't the only one, for the revival in the 10's, especially on Broadway, was met with far more and far fiercer backlash than the original production back then, with Asians finally having their voices heard. And yet, unlike many other shows I am happy to just dump into the trash bin and forget about, Miss Saigon has some of the most gorgeous songs in musical theatre and is at least one of the very few shows that lets Asian performers shine. So when I heard that the Crucible Theatre in Sheffield was doing a new re-worked version that acknowledged the racist sexist bullshit of the original and changed it, I was very interested. Even more so when the very first tweak they presented was exactly the tweak I always thought would help the show leaps and bounds: They cast Joanna Ampil as a female Engineer, who comes far closer to the real mama-sans of the South East Asian red-light districts (something Rodgers/Hammerstein were miles ahead with 30 years earlier when they created Bloody Mary for "South Pacific") and crucially, redresses the power balance - now we finally have one powerful, scheming, determined and even slightly evil female character to counterbalance the helpless damsels in distress whose every action is determined by men. So, since I was willing to give this show one final chance and I also like seeing new bits of England, I decided to go up to Sheffield for the day, have a look around and meet a friend to stay with overnight before going back to London next morning with her. Sadly, English weather was true to form with a truly abysmal day of cold and endless rain, so after arriving I just did one quick walk around before parking myself in a cafe to wait for my friend. The Crucible in Sheffield is a modern theatre with a large open stage and if I have one thing to nitpick about this production is that they threw the baby out with the bathwater set-wise as there was virtually no stage set at all apart from a metal stair case and a few lame projections, but nothing that evoked Vietnam of Bangkok at all. The show got off to a good start as well when the bar girls appeared in moderate clothes - still hotpants and such, which you associate with hookers, but at least they do not longer force very young South East Asian performers to parade themselves in front of the audience (and the straight male gaze) in skimpy bikinis. Apparently casting Chris with a black performer (Christian Maynard, with a gorgeous voice) had also been a conscious move to avoid the godawful "White Saviour" trope, but to me this didn't really work as he was still the one holding all the cards. What helped far more was the direction (Robert Hastie, Anthony Lau, sadly still no female involved) of turning him into a young helpless idiot (and a bit of a cunt) who was just as much out of his depth in Saigon as Kim. Kim (the wonderful Jessica Lee making me forget that I had really hoped to see Desmonda Cathabel in the role) came across as the stronger and more sensible one throughout the show - which makes it all the more mystifying and a sadly missed opportunity to correct that idiotic overwrought ending of her killing herself, rather than just sending Tam away to a new life (which would be just as heartbreaking for the audience who suffered and hoped with Kim, but yet showed both more strength in her and a glimmer of hope for Tam to some day see his mother again). Star of the show was clearly Joanna Ampil as the Engineer, a bitchy sassy crime lady with shreds of goodness left within when she helps Kim. As it is, I suppose it's a huge step into the right direction for CamMack (who clearly doesn't want to lose this precious cash cow) making this show palatable again, though clearly there's still room for improvement. On a more private note though, I was truly shocked how many cis white males deemed it necessary to mansplain to me how the show supposedly wasn't sexist or racist. Which honestly only served to make me fully aware, perhaps for the first time, what minorities go through. I will never know what it's like to live in a black skin and facing racism on a daily basis, I will never know what it's like to be gay and deal with homophobia every day... but I do know now what it feels like to have my concerns swept aside with what basically amounts to "don't make a fuss, it's fine" by people who've never lived in a woman's skin and who weren't even prepared to listen, so I made myself the promise to listen more and listen to minorities' concerns in future (and fear not, if you're one of the guys reading this on my private blog, you weren't one of the mansplainers). Sorry if that got a bit heavy. Regular services shall resume now. My friend kindly put me up at her place for the night and next morning we were off to London together, again through godawful pouring rain, although at least it was dry by the time we finally reached the capital. And where chaotic construction around Waterloo Station led us to discovering lovely Lower Marsh and a pub with a quiet beautiful beergarden to chill in. I had first missed out on "Groundhog Day" in London when I had kept a Saturday matinee free for it and they didn't do a matinee that week, then again in New York, when it pretty much flopped and closed before I made it to Broadway. Luckily it was finally back now, once more at the Old Vic, and to my delight once again starring Andy Karl as Phil Connors, the jaded cynic weatherman who gets stuck in an eternal loop of repeating a single day in rural Punxsutawney on Groundhog Day until he learns to become a decent human being. Friday's performance had been cancelled 20 minutes in due to cast illness so I was relieved our Saturday matinee was going ahead with two understudies in the main female parts - Aimee Fisher taking on Rita and second understudy Jasmin Colangelo in her debut as Nancy. They got rid of the troublesome triple turntable for this revival and I have no yardstick for comparison, but I enjoyed this version very much, carried along by Andy Karl's charismatic performance in the lead, ably supported by Aimee Fisher's Rita and a parade of villagers, for who Australia's Tim Minchin wrote some fantastic songs with smart insightful lyrics - from being stuck in the rut of daily life (Nobody Cares) via Rita listing the high demands she has on her Mr Right (One Day) to Nancy being stuck in the role of village dimwit because nobody wants to see her as anything else (Playing Nancy) to Ned's equally beautiful and melanchony resumee of life (Night will come), and of course Phil gets some fabulous songs as well. It may not be perfect and it hit Broadway in a crowded year of good shows but it's an utter travesty that it lost the Tony to that pile of poo "Dear Evan Hansen" (although any of the nominated shows was better than that). For the finale, after a lovely Indian dinner in Soho, I was back on memory lane once again - having missed ALW's "Aspects of Love" when it first opened in London in 1989, just as I was starting to travel there for shows. I later saw a fairly lovely German version in Dresden and the English original in a shoebox version at the Menier, but this was the first time I'd see it in English on a big stage. It was obviously a passion project for Michael Ball, who shot to fame as young Alex in the original version back then (and the hit single "Love Changes Everything") and who now returns as Alex's uncle George (but still hogs his big song). Ticket sales were abysmal though and critics shredded the show, so it's now closing a lot earlier than planned. So what went wrong? I can think of a few things to be honest. The slim novella by David Garnett on which the show is based was a product of the author's bohemian life in the Bloomsbury Group (that also included Virginia Woolf and E.M. Forster) and while its love tangles might have shocked the conservative readers in 1955 when it came out, today it only elicits a shrug (except, interestingly, the attraction of teenage Jenny to her much older cousin Alex that now has the young woke puritans clutch their pearls). And the music and lyrics do nothing to skewer that messy love life in the brilliant way Stephen Sondheim did in "A Little Night Music" (and yes, that's coming from me, who's never been much of a fan of the man). What's worse, by taking "Love Changes Everything" that initially opened the show away and plonk it rather randomly into the middle of Act One, the show now doesn't have any proper opening to get us interested in the setting or the people. I won't judge Vinny Coyle, who understudied Alex just this day (I would have loved to see Jamie Bogyo, as I was one of the few who really liked him in Moulin Rouge), but it's rather fatal if the leading man doesn't exude any kind of sex appeal or attraction that make us understand why Rose is intrigued by him. Even worse was Michael Ball though - bless him, but absolutely nothing about his chubby teddybear appearance vibes "English upper class country gent" and why she would fall for him either. So we're left with a rather unconvincing love triangle with no stakes at all, because we (or at least I, personally) don't give a damn who of these tedious one dimensional blokes she picks (and let's face it, of course she picks the one with the real estate and the money). The second act, when teenage Jenny develops an unhealthy interest in Alex, felt far more engaging, because we want to know how this plays out, but it's just too late by now to really be interested and as mentioned before, many people just loathe that particular aspect of love. Don't get me wrong, I'd loathe it, too, if Alex had actually taken advantage of her infuation, but the whole point is that he doesn't (and fights it). And to claim that no teenage girl had ever fancied older men - whether teachers, rock and movie stars or indeed some relative - would go against one of the most basic elements of psychology. The show misses a few more marks, most notably throwing away every chance for big production numbers by staging those songs front stage in front of a curtain and a weird mix of beautiful painted watercolor backdrops and photorealistic projections. What was left for me and the show's saving graces were the stunning performances of the two leading ladies, Laura Pitt-Pulford as Rose and incredibly charismatic beautiful opera star Danielle de Niese as Giulietta. I just kept thinking what a show this could have been, if they had run off together for a girls' tour around Europe, leaving a trail of broken male hearts in their wake. As it was, it was a mildly entertaining evening and I still believe that there's a good show somewhere in there (ironically exactly the same as with Miss Saigon that opened the same year), but this wasn't it... and given how badly it flopped, I don't think anyone will try again anytime soon.