Aberystwyth Summer Musical |
| Aberystwyth Arts Centre- High Society , Aberystwyth Arts Centre , August 2, 2001 |
| There's a kind of snobbery about musicals. Roughly, it operates along the lines of if it's done by the National or is Sondheim or a knowing pastiche of the genre it may be OK. Otherwise the critic at a musical is likely to get a querulous arched eyebrow or sympathetic smile. The opening of High Society confirms all that. Why, it's not even a real stage musical, but a theatrical reworking of a 1956 Hollywood star vehicle based on a respected 1940 film (Cukor's The Philadelphia Story) which is itself based on an acclaimed 1939 play by Philip Barry, both of which revived the flagging career of Katherine Hepburn. There in fact is no such thing as High Society the musical because any time it's produced it draws on varying elements from those three sources. Even Cole Porter's lyrics are supplemented here by one Susan Birkenhead. Ah well, that's the postmodern condition for you. And at Aberstwyth it threatened to look like the bastard child of Barry by way of Hepburn and Crosby, with no star names (though Roni Page may be familiar to musical aficionados), a keyboard instead of a band and even the company initially looking as if they're not sure whether they're in a musical comedy or a comedy with music, a social satire or a society spoof, a comedy of manners or a mannered comedy. If you've seen Cukor's movie lately, you'll recognise Donald Ogden Stewart's sharp script (the screenplay is often regarded as an improvement on Barry's play) which Arthur Kopit lifted wholesale for the musical's book - but if you only know the VistaVision version you may not recognise the Cole Porter songs, not so much because they are not performed by the likes of Crosby, Sinatra and Armstrong but because you find yourself listening to the lyrics and discovering they aren't just witty but are often chillingly sharply political. That edge gradually asserts itself in Deborah Shaw's production. At first it's hinted at by the servants' subversive and selective refrains from the title song, then when Who Wants to be a Millionaire fails to deliver the usual soft-centred paean to envy and romance and offers an alternative positive position. The slightly dodgy I Worship You is exposed as a key element in the story's critique of pre-feminist deification and dehumanisation of women - and Just One of Those Things, taken slowly, really does send shivers down the spine as it reveals the sexual dilemma. But it's a lesser-known number, She's Got That Thing, five numbers in and one of the few to lack any real substance, that is the turning-point simply because the cast look like at last they have a routine they thoroughly enjoy. From then on the whole show picks up amazing momentum and everything starts to click. The company seem happier, we have at last got the measure of this hybrid beast and the storyline - a rich family facing humiliation in a gossip sheet just as the heiress is to get married for the second time - at last takes off. Deborah Shaw (erstwhile director of Chester Gateway) does everything she can to tickle our grey cells as well as entertain us, with nearly every scene and every song viewed afresh, but even she can't save the schmatlzy ending. With just one atypical number, True Love, Cole Porter all but destroys what in this delightful, surprisingly rich version has emerged as an intelligent and witty look at class, sex, honesty, integrity and tolerance. Or are we supposed to take the slush with a hefty helping of postmodernist irony ? Roni Page as the vivacious mater familias stands out for her stage presence and sheer experience but once they've settled in all the cast acquit themselves well. Doug Cockle as the suave ex-husband is a Kevin Spacey look-and-soundalike with a pleasant voice, Helen Goldwyn matures as the modern-day Emma and sings well, Matt Devereux plays the humourless fiance (I particularly liked his plaintive response to "Heard any good jokes lately ?" - "I don't know" ) with just the right mix of pomposity and pathos, Gerry Hinks makes the lecherous uncle as comic as he could be. The writer who's forced to be a tabloid hack instead of a real author is a bit of a myth, but Will Thorp does explore the ambiguities of the most complex character in the play, while as his feisty photographer, the marvelously named Loveday Smith at least tries to make sense of a role that starts as a tough cookie and ends as a tearful romantic. Emma Chapman's lighting design is noticeably good and, despite the misgivings of replacing a Hollywood orchestra with one man (plus odd instrumental doubling-up by actors), Malcolm Newton does a sterling job alone in the pit. The show is at Aberystwyth until the end of August before transferring to Swansea Grand. It may not be the most lavish musical production you'll see but it is a remarkably thoughtful piece that never allows its intelligence to cloud the enjoyment. |
Reviewed by: David Adams |
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