Be More Chill in London is an Incredibly Fun Modern Musical, Against All Oddsby Randi / March 3, 2020It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is the amazing The Last Five Years by Jason Robert Brown, which officially opened last night.
Whether you are new to The Last Five Years (what, how but welcome!) or know it better than you know your phone number (me)(UK numbers are hard), the new, dazzling production of this beloved work is a necessary treat for musical lovers, theatre lovers, and even regular lovers who feel like being depressed but like in a beautiful way. A song-cycle of a show, Jason Robert Brown’s The Last Five Years shares the love story a divorcing couple, but the two characters famously share their stories in opposite directions: Jamie goes in chronological order, starting at the beginning of their courtship and ending at their divorce, while Cathy goes backwards, starting after their relationship has fallen apart and ending after their first date. IT IS HEAVY, YES, but it’s some of the best music in modern musical theatre, and this unique, inspired production does a commendable job.
There are a few (maybe like 50) musicals I feel very protective about because of how much I love them. The Last Five Years is one of them. I remember all of us in the plays in high school listening to the original off-Broadway album with Sherie Rene Scott and Norbert Leo Butz (only people with three names were allowed to be involved originally) and being completely obsessed. So, I’m even more critical than usual about this show because it’s impossible not to compare to the originals, and no one can compete with them. And because the score is so g-d beautiful and emotionally raw and funny and moving and amazing (though it’s always a tad uncomfortable to remember that this show is fairly autobiographical) so I’m always like DON’T FUCK IT UP OR I WILL FUCK YOU UP. But the Southwark’s production, with fairly flawless direction from Jonathan O’Boyle, doesn’t try to compete through sheer vocal ability in the usual stand-and-plant manner of running this show. Instead, they’ve created a distinctive version that keeps both actors onstage most of the time, and – spectacularly – makes them each other’s accompanist.
That’s right, Cathy (Molly Lynch) plays the piano for all of Jamie’s (Oli Higginson) (literally just realized their names rhyme) songs, and vice versa, adding the nuance of an extra layer of responsibility for what the other experienced (along with extra chances at seriously impressing us with their talents). It’s an exceptional move, making for a more vibrant and energetic version than usual, for a show that doesn’t usually have the characters interact until the wedding crossover point. While it would be impossible to get performers who are superb singers, actors, and pianists, especially for a small production like this, Lynch and Higginson (who I often thought was Matt Doyle undercover) are often great. They shine brightest as pianists, but they are more than serviceable singers. Lynch excels during Cathy’s faster numbers, when she can show off her humor, like in “A Summer in Ohio”, staged cleverly with her playing the ukulele to Jamie over a video call. Higginson’s slower songs (the more depressing ones I guess) gave him the breath for stronger belting so he sounded best in the second half. They’re both probably working harder than anyone on a London stage right now, and it’s a joy to watch.
In addition to the novel accompaniment, this production’s use of props was interesting. The actors were always doing something active with their books or picture frames or, my favorite part, the subtle and genius use of the gift box for Cathy’s watch in “The Schmuel Song” (very Jeannette Bayardelle in Shida), which could end up distracting but I thought always added to the scene positively. There were also lyric changes that I think were in the last production I saw but always surprise me but then I’m like oh no it’s okay (changes include “Russell Crowe” replacing “Linda Blair” which is meh, and “who you could say looked like Tom Cruise” replaced with “with some very well placed tattoos” which I’m fine with). All I know is if anyone ever changes the Sonny Mehta line I will stand up and walk out (RIP).
It’s not a perfect production – I actively disliked how long the pause in The Schmuel Song during ‘limbovitch’ was (I prefer no pause! it’s funnier!) (also, speaking of, this song features ‘funny’ use of a prayer shawl, which reminded me that I don’t know if any Jews are involved and Jamie is a verrrry Jewish role so like yeesh I hope because ahh). And, as I’ve increasingly seen in young performers, there was a bit too much swallowing of lyrics and speaking lyrics instead of acting emphasis out through song. In the second half, I thought Cathy reacted too much in real time to Jamie’s songs, confusing the opposite timelines (I don’t think people unfamiliar with the concept would have any idea that she was at the beginning of their relationship for a good 20-minute chunk, until her “I Can Do Better Than That”). And while I can’t pinpoint why, this is the first production I’ve ever seen that didn’t make me cry the entire time, with extra heaving during the wedding scene and the end. I just didn’t feel the emotional pull I usually do, which might be due to the prioritizing of the performers’ musical skills over their acting skills. However, for this production, I enjoyed the change of pace that that prioritizing created.
INFORMATION
The Last Five Years plays at the Southwark Playhouse until March 28.
The show is about 90 minutes straight through. My performance ended about 9:15pm because it started about 15 minutes late but that’s okayyyy things happennnn I didn’t get a utiiiii (or did I). The setup this go round (the Southwark changes layout for each show) has the audience on three sides and the only door blocked by the stage area so leaving is difficult at the end. If you need to make a fast exit your only real option is A1-10, the front row of the section by the door (because it’s stadium-style seating with barricades, the first seat of the other rows don’t count as aisles for me unless you are willing to jump through the railings) (which I am but I don’t know your life).
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Dave Malloy’s Preludes at the Southwark: Challenging, Wild, Brilliant
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Preludes at the Southwark Playhouse until October 12.
If you hear that a play is a “musical fantasia set in the hypnotized mind of Sergei Rachmaninoff”, you’d be forgiven for thinking that sounds forking bonkers. It is forking bonkers. But it’s also at times brilliant, and like other work from creator Dave Malloy, it’s challenging in a fantastic way. Beginning what we are calling our Autumn of Dave Malloy here on laughfrodisiac (we have lots of his shows lined up!), the new production of Preludes at the Southwark Playhouse tests the bounds of musical theatre’s abilities. If anyone still wrongly assumed that musical theatre could only or does only tell certain kinds of stories in certain kinds of ways, Preludes will show them that this spectacular art form has no limits.
Now, yes, it does take place in the hypnotized mind of Sergei Rachmaninoff, the Russian composer famous for his unbelievably difficult and intricate piano pieces, including the stark raving genius of the title piece. The brilliance of that piece haunts the composer as portrayed in this show, as like every artist he fears his creative output peaked with that, the glorious piece he banged out at 19 years old. In fact, ‘Serg’ hasn’t been able to write for three years when we meet him and his supportive fiancee/first cousin (eeeeek) Natalya, after the disastrous performance of his first concerto thanks to a drunk conductor (why the composer has to suffer and not the conductor is a shame of the universe).
In order to get his shit together, Serg starts seeing a hypnotherapist. Then the line between what is happening in Serg’s life and what he and his doctor are working through in his hypnotized brain starts to blur, just as the distinction between what music is original Rachmaninoff and what is Dave Malloy’s starts to blur, in a fantastic method of musical storytelling. The most powerful and successful parts of the show combine the inner workings of Serg’s mental processes with his anguish and with the genius of the music, like when Serg explains in a growing ranting monologue how he wrote Preludes, as his pianist counterpart (a separate actor/pianist, not only a necessary choice but a brilliant one, showing how Serg feels divorced from his own self) plays a mesmerizing almost violent rendition of Preludes. This scene, using Rachmaninoff’s own music to tell his story, best captures what this show aims to achieve and best shows what Malloy is capable of.
As with Malloy’s other work, the risk of being the composer/lyricist/book writer/all around creator/we love you and falling into moments of over-indulgence is high, and not avoided here. As usual, Malloy makes those moments of genius count because they stand out, but also because they come against a backdrop of imperfection. His work is challenging, weird, strikingly different, and that makes him such an exciting composer. But there are a few moments that feel unedited, like the 2x too long Act II opener “Loop” performed by Serg’s opera singer friend Chaliapin (a great performance and a perfectly Malloyesque scene, but just 2x too long) and the 3x too long hypnotherapist’s walk through the mountains towards the end. Malloy’s work shines in its imperfections and its challenging nature, but these moments could have had more impact if they were more efficient.
The performances are mostly great though, with Keith Ramsay giving a gripping star turn, all nervous energy and anxiety and physical tics and uneasy laughter (though a little too much of that) to become an all-consuming embodiment of the composer’s neuroses and self-doubt. It’s a remarkable performance. Georgia Louise’s Natalya shines as one of the best vocalists heard on stage in recent months, and it helps that she’s given the chance to show off in the Act I closer “Natalya”, the only classic musical theatre song in the score (and very reminiscent of “No One Else” from Malloy’s Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812, which full disclosure is one of my Best Show Evers). The only questionable performance issue came from the portrayal of the Czar – it was funny to give him a Tony Soprano accent but aside from the initial laughter there wasn’t actually a compelling reason for it.
Overall, Preludes is an exciting new-to-London show (it premiered off-Broadway in 2015) that tests the bounds of the genre and should inspire other creators to do the same, something London’s musical theatre scene needs. Malloy has built a fantastical, strange, wild rhapsody of the creative process using music old and new and showing that the struggle is timeless, which seems fitting as this composer of fantastical, strange, wild works finally starts to get the acclaim he deserves.
Julius Caesar at Shakespeare’s Globe: Bunch of Dumb Ass Bros Lose Their Shit, In High Style
Never take pictures during a show! Or ever, if they say not to.
No one should ever miss an opportunity to see a Shakespeare play performed at The Globe in London. The company is consistently top-notch, and Shakespeare plays are the best things on earth, right?
Okay, most of them are. My latest experience with “Julius Caesar” kind of left me frustrated, maybe not with the bard per se, or the production, but with the characters in this famed work. Oh man alive. Well not alive here, but that’s what I say. The point of this play seems to be that white men are the worrrrrrrrrst. And not just ‘the worst’ but the Jean-Ralphio “worrrrrrst”.
Everyone knows about the whole ‘et tu, Brute?’ murder of Caesar, but what they don’t know is that it happens pretty early in the play. The rest of it shows the senators just kind of losing their shit. So all the old Roman senators I guess hate Caesar because he put anchovies in his salad (not vegan) and they are pissed because Antony thinks Caesar should be king, and Caesar’s all faux modest and rejects the crown, but we don’t see this happen onstage so afterward everyone’s talking about how he rejected the crown and omg the crown and the crown was offered three times and you know it’s the crown and at this point I was watching the end of ‘Miss Congeniality’ in my head and smiling inappropriately. WEAR THE CROWN. BE THE CROWN.
In contrast to what you’d think, the whole play is actually about Cassius and Brutus being lovers who can’t be together because Brutus already married A FUCKING CRAZY WOMAN* so they try to impress each other with songs and monologues professing their love. And then they come up with the super romantic plan of killing the emperor to show each other how manly and impressive they are. Early in the second act, Cassius says something to Brutus about how they threw “lusty sinews” at a torrent in the Tiber and you just knew that was a metaphor. Cassius just wants to get his man loving on, and he gets a little desperate. He even asks Casca out for dinner! Casca’s like “nah brah, busy tonight.” And Cassius doesn’t get the hint and he’s like well tomorrow then? And Casca’s like, “I mean if I’m alive, I guess I’ll have to brah.” He actually says that, if I’m alive. So awkward.
*seriously Portia is nuts. She’s mad her husband won’t trust her with his dark secrets and assumes it’s because he deems her a little fragile woman so she CUTS HER THIGH and is like ‘LOOK HUSBAND LOOK I CUT MYSELF I CAN TAKE IT TELL ME YOUR SECRETS’ what a f-ing lunatic.
Freal though, “Julius Caesar” should be called “Cassius & Brutus, or Who Will Have Me Now”. It’s just another love story except between two psychopaths, and they are sexually frustrated so they start a mutiny and a war. At one point Brutus says to him:
*seriously Portia is nuts. She’s mad her husband won’t trust her with his dark secrets and assumes it’s because he deems her a little fragile woman so she CUTS HER THIGH and is like ‘LOOK HUSBAND LOOK I CUT MYSELF I CAN TAKE IT TELL ME YOUR SECRETS’ what a f-ing lunatic.
Freal though, “Julius Caesar” should be called “Cassius & Brutus, or Who Will Have Me Now”. It’s just another love story except between two psychopaths, and they are sexually frustrated so they start a mutiny and a war. At one point Brutus says to him:
I will come home to you; or, if you will,
Come home to me, and I will wait for you.
Now tell me I’m wrong! Also this immediately put ‘Lover Lay Down’ (DMB 4eva) in my head, whereupon I realized this shit would be the shiiiiiit as a musical! SOMEONE GET ON THAT.
Then of course the best part is when Cassius says “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves” and I was like a) the brilliant John Green capitalized on this line but good, b) Green was right when he said fate is plenty at fault, but c) in this play at least, Shakesy was right because all these men are definitely responsible for their own shitty ends. Seriously is this a satire of all male politicians? Like, “Heyyyy we don’t like the guy in charge, so let’s kill him Murder On The Orient Express-style (everyone stab him once) (sorry spoiler for two things) and then just hope it all kinda works out chill for us like.” F-ing idiots. SERIOUSLY WHAT DID THEY THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?
Cassius says early on:
Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that “Caesar”?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well…
Like all that matters is how a name sounds? What is he getting at? If that were true our president would be Jermajesty because best name ever. Secretary of State Moxie Crimefighter. I know that’s not what he really was getting at but damn if that isn’t some blatant flirting.
Side note, is Casca supposed to be played somewhat fey? It seemed almost offensive how in his first scene he was like ‘HAAAYYYYY’, and that was pretty much it. And then he talks about how he wouldn’t dare laugh or talk while cavorting among the general populace because (paraphrase) “poor people have the worrrrst stinking breath AM I RIGHT BRUTUS UP HIGH!” I think he’s one of my favorite Shakespeare characters.
I really appreciated that this classic play displayed legit crazy all from men (and Portia) for a change, but my actual favorite part comedically was that every single damn time one of the many senators entered a room, they would all greet each other by name. and then five minutes later someone else would come in and greet everyone again. So every 2 minutes, with each entrance, you’d get “Oh tidings Cassius, Brutus, Cicero, Cescaphe, Trombonius, Tinnitis, Marsupial, Cinnamon, Supercilious, Imbecilius, tidings.”
The greatest part artistically was that the actor who played Caesar (since he was done early) came back to play the soldier Strato, he who holds the sword upon which Brutus runs to kill himself. Now that was some deep and heavy double-casting of the Captain Hook/Mr. Darling variety.
But yeah, legit crazy. Seriously, this is the plot: All these jackwagons plotting to kill Caesar, then they kill him, then they fall apart because they realized they killed a man and don’t really have a plan, so then they all kill each other/themselves. You think during it that Mark Antony is kind of sort of decent, but then he closes the play by proclaiming how Brutus was the most noble Roman of all. Ummm sure. Sure sure. Nahhhht! The end.
