In Defence of the Musical

This Saturday, by pure chance, I picked up The Independent. Pure chance because I usually read The Times at the weekend, more out of habit than anything else, and the only reason I was flicking through the pages of The Independent was because the local shop had sold out of my newspaper of choice. But it was a very happy little turn of fate, because as I perused their Saturday magazine I came across an article that made me want to jump up and down in joy; an article entitled ‘How I Learnt to Love Musicals’.

I felt like personally thanking Michael Bywater. Thanks to the high culture vs low culture divide, it is not fashionable for theatre critics to stand up for the musical. A fanciful sub-genre of theatre, light entertainment for the masses - this is the position to which musical theatre is often relegated. The adjective frequently assigned to the musical is 'commercial', that dirty, damning word in the arts world. Yet theatre is, let's face it, a business. As much as I wish it could be otherwise, money does to a certain extent make the world go round (anyone else having sudden visions of Liza Minnelli and Joel Grey in Cabaret?) and to be a commercial success does not necessarily mean sacrificing quality and integrity.

There are also many musicals that are not commercial hits, some deservedly and some not, just as there are successful and unsuccessful plays. Musical theatre is too often judged purely on the basis of a clutch of jukebox shows and film spin-offs, which does not begin to do justice to the range and variety of the musical. I would also like to stress that I am not trying to disparage the aforementioned types of musical; I like Jersey Boys and Priscilla just as much as the next person. These shows are pure entertainment and there's nothing wrong with a bit of entertainment. There are times when all of us want to lose ourselves in sumptuously silly storytelling and hum along to some comfortingly familiar tunes.

But musicals can also confront contemporary issues and provoke serious thought. I will take as examples two musicals that have recently had critically acclaimed (though sadly short-lived) West End runs: Hair and Spring Awakening. I should probably mention that these are two of my favourite musicals, so I am a bit biased, but nevertheless I hope that my points will stand. Hair, when it first opened in 1967, sang to the tune of America's youth and tackled controversial current issues, notably the Vietnam War. Although its most recent incarnation comes over 30 years after the end of the Vietnam War, Claude's poignant fate still prompts questions about the justification of any conflict - questions that seem particularly relevant in the light of the news reports we hear every day from Afghanistan. Likewise, despite its nineteenth century German setting, Spring Awakening's themes of sexual awakening, teenage depression and the often deplorable way we treat our youth are just as current today (see my review of Punk Rock if you need any further proof).

So in my opinion critics need to take a leaf out of Michael Bywater's book and take time to appreciate the musical. For me it is a little baffling why there is still such a huge gulf between opera and musical theatre, when essentially they both unite music and drama. I understand of course that the music itself differs greatly, but why is opera held in such high opinion and the musical in such low? I must admit that, cultural heathen that I am, I have never been to the opera. I would love to go one day, hopefully soon, but I doubt that it will instantly displace my love of the musical. Surely it is possible to embrace both?

Thankfully musical theatre seems to be going from strength to strength. Bywater suggests that this is a symptom of the recession - musicals cheer us up. He might well be right about that. The main current threat to the musical is not a lack of punters but a lack of new musicals making it on the West End. Few producers are willing to take risks in these tough times and with good reason, as the unfortunate commercial failure of Spring Awakening illustrated. What the musical really needs now is people who are willing to push the boundaries and bring exciting new musical theatre to audiences.

But whatever the future of the musical, I don't see it going away any time soon. Which for me, Michael Bywater and musical lovers everywhere is very good news.

Review: Punk Rock, Lyric Hammersmith, Thursday 16 September 2010

Troubled youth is nothing new. The last hundred years or so have provided us with a host of literary portrayals of adolescent disaffection, depression and violence - J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye, William Golding's Lord of the Flies, the controversial German play Spring Awakening by Frank Wedekind - several of which are undoubtedly influences on Punk Rock. This, however, does not lessen the impact of Simon Stephens' articulate, tense and terrifying play, currently being revived at the Lyric Hammersmith almost exactly a year after it premiered there.

Although teenage angst may not be original, Stephens' play is strikingly current, examining the pressure that Britain's results-fuelled education system places on its young people and the altogether worrying implications of this. In the setting of a grammar school library, contained fear, anger and violence constantly simmer under the surface of the pupils' intelligent banter, while the discordant bursts of music that punctuate the scenes notch up the tension. There is the inescapable sense from the very first scene, even as we laugh at the often brilliant dialogue of these gifted teenagers, that something far more sinister lurks around the corner.

The young cast are all excellent, although Rupert Simonian in particular stands out as the awkward and troubled William Carlisle, delivering an increasingly unsettling performance. Mike Noble also impresses in his stage debut, playing bullied but astoundingly intelligent Chadwick, and his apocalyptic vision of humanity has to be the speech of the play. Stephens' dialogue is dazzling throughout and it is refreshing to see teenagers engaging in lively intellectual debate, even if some exchanges do stretch the imagination slightly.

The dusty library setting, ensconcing the pupils in the suffocating tradition and expectations that they yearn to break free of, is inspired. Similarly to the uninhabited island in Lord of the Flies, it provides a claustrophobic adolescent boiling pot, a world sealed off from adults where emotions escalate. Yet despite the self-contained environment, the play is engaged throughout with the world outside and the wider issues that touch the lives of these youngsters.

Stephens clearly sees a serious problem with the way this country is raising its youth, but neither diagnosis nor cure of this problem are forthcoming. Ultimately Punk Rock projects a bleak vision not unlike Chadwick's apocalyptic prophecy. The play is made even more unsettling by Stephens' canny choice of his protagonists' social class; wealth, intelligence and education no longer offer any promise of happiness or success.

Unfortunately the play is slightly let down by the final scene which, although it provides a couple of thought provoking moments, blunts the raw shock of the library climax. One feels that this is an unnecessary self-indulgence on the part of Stephens; but perhaps considering the brilliance of the rest of the play we can allow him this. The vaguely disappointing ending does not stop this from being one of the most riveting plays I have seen, and I suspect it will be some time before Punk Rock releases its chilling grasp on my thoughts.

The Theatre of Music: Live Performance & Theatricality

Like my taste in many things, my music taste could be considered diverse and certainly eclectic. I doubt, for example, that many other people have seen both Muse and Take That perform live.  Probably even fewer would admit to it.  But although they may be at opposite ends of the musical spectrum, there is one thing that these two bands share: theatricality.

Playing a gig is not a simple matter of just standing on stage with a guitar (or equivalent instrument) and churning out a stream of your biggest hits. The bands that sell out stadiums and massive arenas like the O2 usually have something else to add, an extra cherry on top that makes their concerts a vastly superior experience to listening to their albums and entices fans to hand over sometimes obscene amounts of cash to see them.

For my ticket to see Muse at Wembley Stadium on Saturday I paid what some might consider an obscene amount of money (£50 in case you’re interested). I’ve had a conversation with one friend who refuses to part with more than £20 to see a band live and thinks that paying anything above that is criminal. Well, it is a bit steep, I’ll admit that. But when you consider that a top price ticket to a West End show can cost upwards of £70 it doesn’t seem like such a bad deal, especially when you get a visual and aural spectacular of the kind that Muse delivered on Saturday night.

There have been many reviews of the concert that probably convey the experience of the show far more eloquently than I can, so I’ll keep concise on the detail. Imagine dazzling light shows, equally dazzling costumes, breathtaking performances and a liberal smattering of special effects. With the Doctor Who-esque intro to ‘Uprising’ and giant silver UFO complete with dangling alien, all that was needed was to get David Tennant up on stage (I’d also settle for Matt Smith, but I have an especial soft spot for the tenth Doctor) and it would be nothing short of perfection.

But what has all this got to do with theatre, you may ask. It’s a bit of a digression but I do have a point – promise! As I jumped up and down in the crowd whilst a spaceship constructed of something bearing a remarkable resemblance to tin foil floated above us, I got thinking about how we define theatre and where we draw the line between theatre and other genres of performance. Well, perhaps this thought didn’t pop into my mind exactly at the moment I was belting out the lyrics to ‘Supermassive Black Hole’, but it was an idea that struck me last weekend.

I was also interested to see Rick Pearson writing about ‘the kind of theatre we’ve come to expect from Muse’ in his review for the Evening Standard, acknowledging the theatrical element of Muse’s performances. To me it seems that there is an overlap between all the different performing arts, often making it difficult to see where one ends and the other begins. Looking back to my last post, think for example of Jerry Springer, a musical that incorporates operatic elements and calls itself an opera. Or think of Queen in 1975 uniting opera and pop music in Bohemian Rhapsody. The lines dividing musical and performance genres have always been blurred. 

There are many signs to suggest that indeed theatre and music have never been closer. Concert productions are getting more and more theatrical, there is a growing epidemic of jukebox musicals in Broadway and the West End and music videos themselves are often a form of mini theatre. One needs only to look at Lady Gaga to see that theatre can be an integral element of popular music. In my opinion this is no bad thing; performance should be multi-faceted. I also don’t subscribe to the absolute division between theatre and opera as high culture and popular music as low culture. In my mind there’s good and there’s bad and each piece of entertainment should be judged on its own individual merit.

So where does theatre end? I’m still not sure that I can answer that question. Can anybody really define absolutely what theatre is? So much of life is in its own way theatre; in the oft quoted words of Shakespeare, ‘All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players’. And on Saturday night, Muse deservedly owned that stage.

Review: Shoes, Sadler's Wells, Monday 6 September 2010

Never has our obsession with the shoe been more apparent.  Sex and the City has transformed footwear into a lifestyle choice, Uggs have taken over the world and the Jimmy Choo has become an icon.  Shoes, the most recent show at Sadler’s Wells, certainly has its finger on the pulse of the world’s consumers, building an entire dance revue around our bizarre infatuation with all things leather, suede and stilettoed.

Richard Thomas, best known for the infamous Jerry Springer – The Opera, turns his irreverent wit on a selection of the more ridiculous footwear fashions that have emerged over the last few decades, from seventies platforms to the more recent Ugg phenomenon.  His viciously funny lyrics and ingenious word play – ‘time wounds all heels’ was a personal favourite of mine – are paired with the inspired and innovative routines of a team of choreographers led by West End and Broadway dance legend Stephen Mear.

Mear and his collaborators have incorporated an impressive array of shoes into the dances, as Ugg wearers prance around in sheep costumes, glam rock wannabes perform a tap routine wearing platform boots and swimming cap clad dancers pirouette in flip-flops.  The most entertaining dances are those that revolve solely around the shoe in question, mainly due to the sheer awe and disbelief that they inspire.  Building choreography around footwear that is far from ideally suited to the medium of dance must have been a challenge to say the least, both for the choreographers and the dancers.

The show is a visual tour de force, with the set dominated by a giant stiletto to rival the one currently in residence at the Palace Theatre, home of the equally glamorous (and equally, gloriously camp) Priscilla Queen of the Desert.  The costumes – a highlight of which are the playful sheep suits – are dazzling both as individual creations and in their extraordinary range.  Of course we must also not forget the footwear, the centrepiece and star of the show, with no less than 250 pairs of shoes being worn over the two hours.

However, as enjoyable and visually stunning as Shoes may be, I cannot help feeling that Thomas and Mear have missed an opportunity to examine our often irrational and sometimes worrying consumer culture.  Thomas’s razor wit seems to have softened, with the overall tone gently mocking rather than cynically cutting.  We never see a true exploration of the psychology behind our attachment to shoes and Thomas rarely exposes the darker side of human nature that is so prominent in Jerry Springer.  One feels that this is a celebration rather than a criticism of our love affair with designer footwear.

To be fair, Thomas has stated that he wanted to write a fun show, and Shoes certainly delivers on the entertainment front.  Expect two extremely enjoyable hours at the theatre, but do not expect the incisive and controversial social observation of Jerry Springer.  Shoes, like its subject matter, is a bit of a guilty pleasure.

Theatre vs The Mobile Phone

The other week, while sitting on the edge of my (vertigo inducing) Upper Circle seat in the Gielgud Theatre, it happened.  ‘It’ being the theatregoer’s worst nightmare: attack of the mobile phone. 

This was not the first time that it had happened.  I am a serial victim of mobile phone ambush.  The most memorable single occasion of mobile assault was when a man in the row behind me actually answered his phone and began a conversation during the second act of Les Miserables – I wish I was making this up.

But back to the most recent incident.  I had enjoyed almost the whole of the sensational Gavin Creel’s final performance of Hair with minimal audience interruption (in this case I didn’t consider enthusiastic audience appreciation at the end of Mr Creel’s songs an interruption, being among these enthusiastic audience members myself) and was appreciating the unusual lack of bad theatre behaviour; I had been lulled into a false sense of security.

Then in the final moments of the show, as Gavin (and most of the audience) fought back tears, there was the bleep of some popular soul in the Upper Circle receiving a text, snapping the emotional tension.  The wave of anger towards this careless theatregoer was tangible – you could almost hear the unspoken collective ‘tut’.

But then something wonderful happened.  Gavin Creel’s voice rose over the ring tone, albeit breaking with emotion, and the atmosphere that filled the Gielgud instantly banished any electronic demons.  ‘The power of theatre’ is a genuinely awful phrase but for once it was almost justified.  Or this might just be the powerful delusion of a girl with a little too much love for both Gavin Creel and Hair.

This is only one battle in an ongoing war and it’s one that I don’t imagine ending any time soon.  But in this instance it was, at least in my mind, theatre one, the mobile phone nil.