We Return to Live Theatre! 'Adventures with the Painted People' at Pitlochry Festival Theatreby Randi / June 18, 2021It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is the recent streaming production of ‘Mr. Burns’ from the Guidhall School of Music & Drama. It was live-streamed in late May and then reshared for pick-your-own-time-with-the-ability-to-pause-it viewing (unbeatable) this past month.
Mr. Burns, Anne Washburn’s lauded (and somewhat divisive) 2012 play, analyzes how culture evolves over time, with the help of The Simpsons. In Washburn’s dystopian society, an apocalyptic event has wiped out most people and all the power — the proper stylized title is actually Mr. Burns, a post-electric play. Overall, the play is fascinating in how it weaves details of a single episode of TV into markers of cultural importance over distinct time periods, in a fun (for Simpsons fans, not that the downer of a play is any fun) clever way of contemplating how history and culture are formed.
In this newest incarnation, I think it was hinted at that a virus did the people wiping part (gotta make shit relevant and more terrifying!), and the lack of sufficient people to attend to places like nuclear power plants did the rest. We meet a scraggly bunch of survivors around a campfire, where the zigzagging conversation intertwines stories of cities they’ve traveled to and what they found there, with a discussion about The Simpsons. The group tries to collectively share the play-by-play of the episode from memory – of course, as that’s all they have. It helps to be familiar with The Simpsons, especially the crucial episode Cape Feare – crucial for Simpsons fans, I believe (and musical theatre fans), and for appreciating this play.
This first act is filled with frustration and sadness — at the lack of knowledge about what’s going on in other parts of the country and who else has survived, as well as at their inability to ever truly find out what parts of the episode they are forgetting or misremembering. In this strongest part of the play, the emotional roller coaster from the excitement as the characters finally remember a line of dialogue, from the terror when someone new happens upon their location, from the grief and misery when they deliver their memorized lists of names of people they’re looking for, it’s a lot but it all feels earned.
But it’s the ensuing acts that show the cleverness of the play’s central concept. It jumps to 7 years later, when groups of survivors have become like traveling theatre troupes who perform — episodes of The Simpsons, especially Cape Feare. The way the seemingly casual campfire conversation has become one of the most fundamental parts of the society they’re forming is so interesting. It’s something that most people remember watching at some point, but they’ve latched onto it and given it enhanced importance in this new world, seemingly just to share something they can believe is important. The details have gotten messier, the lines a little paraphrased, as memories have faded and altered. Strangely, the survivors have given the same reverence to the inclusion of commercials in their productions. While it’s interesting to see what kinds of things they think would be advertised, there is way too much time spent on showing us their commercials, and even more time spent on a non-Simpsons non-commercial musical performance. Details from this performance make it into the third act in compelling ways that support the central idea, but the same result is achieved with the Simpsons details alone.
And that third act is wild. It’s now 75 years later, and the society has developed what seems like a serious religion and candle-filled religious ritual based on what has lasted from this episode of The Simpsons. Mr. Burns, earning the title placement, is now a murderer trying to kill the entire Simpsons family, and, well, doing so. The entire act is this religious ritual, a music-filled performance of what’s now their sacred stories. The once remembered details now have obviously been completely transformed, mutated into something unrecognizable but still with familiar aspects – the character names, the boat, the singing, the Gilbert & Sullivan lyrics. It’s an insane ride. I loved how all of these sections show how culture and history adapt over time, as certain things are remembered, misremembered, and reconstructed in human societies. It’s a reminder that the history we know and study all depends on a human’s retelling of an event, and humans are imperfect, biased historians. The way certain details hold fast through all three time periods in the play, and the way others morph into unrecognizable and surprising new cultural tenets, are a fascinating reflection of culture and how tenuous it is.
However. This third act is too long and overindulgent. It takes the unnecessary and overly long musical number of the second act and forking runs with it. This section is so long and chaotic and disconnected from the emotional beats the previous two sections had managed to achieve that I actually got annoyed. I may have audibly sighed. It didn’t help that the singing wasn’t great (I won’t say any more about the actors, who were all fine, because I think they’re students and like, they’re not done training). But even so this act was overall Too Much, nearly negating all the clever goodwill from before.
Information:
Run & running time: Mr. Burns runs about 2 1/2 hours. (It should run about 2 hours 10 minutes.) Hopefully Guildhall will release the stream again, or a new production (that makes cuts) will come, because it is such an interesting play.
Technicals: The stream froze every 5 minutes. For the amount of streaming theatre we’ve watched in the past year (it’s a shittonne), we’ve really only had issues when the stream is set up to defend a higher quality image instead of reducing the picture quality when necessary and focusing on continuous play and sound. I don’t know how to describe it I’m not a computer. But that’s the issue most of the time. Always choose continuous play over the image quality mes babies.
Toilets & Audience: Watched at home baby!!
What antisemitic thing did I notice this time*: The programme describes the ragtag group of characters as ‘schlocky’, which is a Yiddish-derived word used to describe cheap, junky goods, so it was very much not used properly. [*A new question I will probably need to ask more going forward! (Obvs I am joking about it being offensive…just to my history as an editor.)]
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Jesus Hopped the “A” Train at London’s Young Vic: Lots and Lots of Words, but the Meaning Unclear
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Jesus Hopped the “A” Train, playing at the Young Vic until April 6.
I love going into shows blind, knowing as little as possible about the plot or even what type of show it is. With Jesus Hopped the “A” Train, I have never been so surprised by a show’s subject matter. Even though the play is from 2000, I managed to miss it the first time-round (‘twas a child) and so with that intriguing title, my brain assumed it was about trains, and probably Jesus. It is not about trains, though it is sort of about Jesus, or religion in general. What Jesus, A Train! (best fake title) really is about is the horrors of the United States prison system, a subject that needs to be spoken about more and in harsher words. This play, by Stephen Adly Guirgis, definitely understands the need to denounce the broken system, but the result is more like a set of speeches than a play.
That’s great for actors preparing for auditions, since the monologues in this show are often powerful and seem important, perfect for showing off out of context. But it’s not great for a cohesive drama, with a plot, with a dramatic purpose. It’s two hours of monologues. Even the ‘dialogue’ between characters is, if you look closely, really a monologue followed by a one word response, lather rinse repeat. With this composing the show, you see that Guirgis had a lot of important things to say, a lot a lot, but without fitting these thoughts into a structured drama, it’s unclear what he’s actually saying.
As for the thin narrative, it’s about a young man who is imprisoned for shooting a despised cult leader, an act of violence that by all accounts is warranted, but vigilante justice isn’t rewarded when the perpetrator is a man of color. Following the imprisonment and trials of this young man, Angel Cruz, we see – no, we are told – how broken the American justice system is, how awful prison is, how unhinged prison guards are. This is all true, if not novel. But then Angel’s plight isn’t simply due to the system; it’s due to his shitty lawyer, Mary Jane Hanrahan, who shows off several times how bad a lawyer she is, with her most egregious, to me, mistake being her failure to share an offered plea deal with her client (I mean, literally gtfo). She also instructs him to lie without mincing her words, as you normally do, such that Angel breaks down in court and incriminates her and gets her disbarred. Which she deserves, sure, but why didn’t he get a mistrial? Why didn’t the court grant him another lawyer and trial? Why does Mary Jane also have SO. MANY. MONOLOGUES? The b.s. of the Mary Jane business was distractingly annoying.
So Angel is in Rikers with an amiable prisoner played by Oberon KA Adjepong. Oberon, as I’ll refer to him because I can’t remember the character’s name and there’s no way in hell it’s better than Oberon, is terrifying yet charismatic, the mark of a true serial killer – which, it turns out, he is! Oberon is hell-bent on saving Angel’s soul by getting him to find Jesus, as he himself has during his incarceration, and the two convicts have long, long-winded monologue-fights about what it means to seek forgiveness, what it means to find god, why it’s important. There are some nice thoughts bandied about in these scenes, but overall, the content is unfocused and unconvincing. Lucius (ah that’s his name! not as good as Oberon!) WAS A SERIAL KILLER. I don’t care how much you pray to god, you don’t deserve forgiveness. You joke still about how you killed more than eight people but they only caught you for eight, ha ha, and how some of them were white so they don’t count, ha ha, and you want to convince us that you deserve any semblance of forgiveness? Give me a g-d break! Are we supposed to connect with his rants about forgiveness and religion? Are they supposed to make us go, ‘hm that really makes you think’? Because instead, his monologues successfully make you agree that he deserved to die in prison. I guess all the Jesus talk could have been an interesting comparison between the lunatic killer’s belief that he’s going to be saved versus the kinder, gentler convict’s refusal to think that way, but what comes across is mere proselytizing that doesn’t land. Oberon was a captivating performer, save for the several moments he got tongue-tied, but with endless monologues to memorize, that’s forgivable, unlike the character he’s playing.
One of the worst, WORST, trends in London theatre this past year, is on full parade at Jesus, A Train. The Young Vic and director Kate Hewitt have decided to deafen, and annoy, its patrons by marking scene changes with a BANG! And I mean a loud forking BANG! I don’t know who decided this was the cool way to change scenes in London recently, but hear me now, fools: it is not. It doesn’t jar the audience in a thoughtful way, if that’s what you were going for; it doesn’t demarcate the difference between drama and reality, if that’s what you were going for; it doesn’t remind the audience of all the world’s troubles in a visceral way, if that’s what you were going for. All it does is forking PISS US OFF. It doesn’t help that that other favorite trend of London theatre is also in full use here: nonstop smoking. This isn’t the ‘50s, guys; it doesn’t do much to define a character to have him smoking the entire play. It’s just silly.
The bright spot is Ukweli Roach as Angel Cruz, who I would have sworn was American. Ukweli captures that difficult role of being a tough young man capable of, well, killing, who also is incredibly sympathetic. Unlike for Lucius, you do feel that Angel deserves better than he got, which is a huge feat considering how little the actor actually gets to play with. Guirgis has created such defined characters, but he doesn’t use them to their fullest potential to convey whatever it is he’s actually trying to say.
INFORMATION
Jesus, A Train! is playing at London’s Young Vic until April 6. It is two hours, with a 15-minute intermission, which is the best kind of show structure. If you go, bring ear plugs and a face mask. It is in the round, another overused, under-considered ploy of this year.
“Beautiful: The Carole King Musical” in the West End: It’s Just Pretty
“Beautiful: The Carole King Musical” is such a freaking easy show. Easy to write, easy to promote, easy to enjoy. Just as on Broadway, the jukebox musical’s West End incarnation is pleasant, pleasing, and so much fun, especially for white, middle-aged, middle-class ladies who think it’s cool to sing along because oh my goddd this was sooo my soooong. “Beautiful” shows what a jukebox musical should be – a story about the songs being performed, rather than using the songs to force an arbitrary and usually shitty story (cough “Mamma Mia” cough).
What’s not easy is singing as Carole King when you aren’t Carole King. The audience doesn’t want an impersonation that reminds them they can just listen to Tapestry later at home, but they want the actress to still sound like Carole. The actress thus needs to evoke her but not imitate, and has to bring something unique to the performance and elevate it above mere copying. Jessie Mueller did this on Broadway perfectly, and (I begrudgingly admit (just because Kelli O’Hara when is it your turn)) deserved her Tony.
What’s not easy is singing as Carole King when you aren’t Carole King. The audience doesn’t want an impersonation that reminds them they can just listen to Tapestry later at home, but they want the actress to still sound like Carole. The actress thus needs to evoke her but not imitate, and has to bring something unique to the performance and elevate it above mere copying. Jessie Mueller did this on Broadway perfectly, and (I begrudgingly admit (just because Kelli O’Hara when is it your turn)) deserved her Tony.
Now in the West End, Katie Brayben won the Olivier (only a few nights ago), but I don’t think she fully did the job. Her voice is great and she had a wonderful energy, but her singing had nothing to do with Carole King. There was no raspiness, no edge, no “I have vocal damage but can still hit all the notes”, as Seth Rudetsky described Mueller’s impeccable work. Brayben was adorable and lovable in all the book scenes, completely believable as young teenage Carole and young mom Carole and super-old-lady-hair-but-still-young Carole and then still-pretty-young-successful Carole. (I think this show only covers her life until like age 30.) But when she sang, in the parts that brought Mueller’s Carole fully to life and made you feel exactly what she was feeling, Brayben’s Carole was just Brayben, a pleasantly voiced young actress. Her joy came through and made the audience equally joyous, but it just had nothing to do with Carole King.
It’s difficult to mar such an easy, prepackaged-to-succeed show, so of course “Beautiful” is virtually unharmed by this. But save for one exception, the cast was uniformly a notch below what it should have been. I really don’t like taking personal shots, but the casting really was the unfortunate aspect of this show (and of so many shows I’ve seen here). (Are the best people just already in NYC? Do they need me to do casting here?) Like I said, Brayben’s acting was wonderful, her Brooklyn accent and youthful mannerisms without fault, but her singing as Carole was lacking. But that wasn’t even the most upsetting to me. In telling the tale of Carole’s early years of songwriting success and persona life hardship, “Beautiful” relies on two of Carole’s best friends to provide comic relief as well as plot forwarding: Cynthia Weil and Barry Mann. On Broadway, Anika Larson and Jarrod Spector were freaking off the charts perfect in mining their lines for every possible bit of hilarity and in singing their songs like their lives were on the line. Superb. Here, not so much. Lorna Want (so, yes, people are still named Lorna) treated Cynthia seemingly with kid gloves, being too British and prim instead of ballsy and ball-busting and awesome, as Cynthia should be. One of my favorite parts of the show, of any show maybe, is our introduction to Cynthia: her audition for Donny’s studio to the tune of “Happy Days Are Here Again”. In this song, we learn that Cynthia is really smart, really daring, brave, audacious, and, yes, a total ball-buster. She also has to command attention, get it, and make you feel grateful for giving her your attention. It’s an important little part that seems like it’s merely funny. Anika Larson got that and it was amazing. Lorna, not so much. Her method of commanding attention and demonstrating that her personality couldn’t be contained to the room was to…lightly tap her toes along to the music. Maybe that’s the choreographer’s or the director’s fault, but still. She didn’t own her big moment, and the rest was downhill from there. That Lorna also won an Olivier is more of a commentary on this year’s weak offerings than of her performance being award-worthy. I hope Anika doesn’t think anything of it.
Equally necessary in “Beautiful” is a scene-stealing Barry Mann. Jarrod Spector, famous for being the longest-running Frankie Valley in “Jersey Boys” (so he has that super strong falsetto), was so funny, so lovable, and so freaking strong that it’s almost not fair that anyone would have to follow him in this role. Barry is obviously Jewish, not only in name but in personality, like stereotypically. He’s a hypochondriac to the extreme, and he’s nebbishy and often immature, but adorable. You have to laugh with him and love him. Unfortunately, I don’t really think they know how to do “fun-Jewish” here in Britain. At least not like how they know in NYC! Ian McIntosh is a strong singer, but his Barry was lacking in personality. Like, he had none. He didn’t grip you or reel you in. It was just like, oh he seems nice. Byeeeee. It’s a shame because, for being a real person, Barry Mann is such a freaking fun character. I bet this was also a casting/directing problem because do they even know how to do Jewish here? Considering that Barry and Cynthia are an integral duo in the show, when one of them is weak, it’s a problem for their dynamic. When both are weak, it’s a problem for the show.
More disappointment in the ensemble! The Righteous Brothers, who are supposed to give a show-stopping performance of Mann/Weil’s “You Lost That Loving Feeling”, were…not good. My companion to the show was most disappointed with this performance. It’s a lot to live up to the original, but come on, this is the West End. You’re supposed to be able to find the kind of talent we expect. Equally subpar were the ensemble voices composing The Drifters and The Shirelles. Listen, all of these people are of course super talented. It’s just that they were miscast in playing these roles. The lead Drifters singer, at least in the early numbers (they switched around leads I think), had to change some of the melody, bringing some low parts up and some high parts down, because they weren’t in his range. Um. Excuse me. Cast someone with the proper range maybe?? The lead Shirelle (again, at least for their first number, “Will You Love Me Tomorrow”; they switched the parts around) had a really strangely deep, slow voice. It was off-putting when she spoke (as Donny’s secretary) and much nicer when she sang, but it still was not right for The Shirelles, one of the most popular and successful girl groups of all time. There was no energy in these performances, not in the way we needed. Argha bargha.
The exception that I noted above, the one performance of the lot that was actually more than I expected, was Alan Morrissey as Gerry Goffin. On Broadway, Gerry’s portrayer Jake Epstein was the only one of the four mains to not get a Tony nomination. It was unfortunate, because Epstein was very good, but in a packed category Spector clearly outshone him. Unfortunately, Olivier voters seemed to think that those Tony noms were meant to be followed and that Mann was just the more ‘award-worthy’ role, which is definitely not the case, and sadly they followed the same pattern here, nominating the three other mains but not Morrissey, whom I think was the most deserving. His Gerry hit me more emotionally than it did on Broadway, and I really felt for him in his later scenes. His performance was sometimes crushing, often moving, and overall splendid. What he brought to what many consider a thankless role (given how Gerry is the only character sort-of approaching ‘villain’ territory) was special. It’s a shame he didn’t get the recognition that his less deserving comrades did.
On this repeat viewing, I noticed a couple of things I never noticed on Broadway. For one, the strip poker scene is suuuupes awkward. Oh man. It is perfect at showing us that Carole was quite prudish and straight-laced, and that it really bothered her husband, but damn it’s awkward. It will be a fantastic scene in the movie version, I bet, but onstage it’s kind of weird? Like, Carole has old-lady hair throughout most of her twenties. We don’t need extra scenes to tell us that she wasn’t cool.
Also, did the Broadway audience ever laugh at The Drifters? When they first appear for “Some Kind of Wonderful”, the audience was laughing. Like, everyone. Hard. At first I thought it was just because they were doing cutesy old-fashioned boy band dance moves (rightly so), but that doesn’t seem like enough of an excuse, because the UK did have and does have boy bands that do similar non-hilarious moves (hello, 1D). Was my audience just super racist or something?!
Aside from the lack of Carole King in Carole King’s singing, the failure to make our two comedic characters anything resembling comedic, the lowered quality in our ensemble performances, and oh a lack of overall cohesion, “Beautiful” is still, remarkably, a lovely, pleasant, enjoyable show in the West End. I didn’t realize before how good the book is, especially for a jukebox musical. Despite all this production’s shortcomings, it’s still pretty much a success, which proves the strength of the show, the inability to really tarnish it no matter how hard people try, and of course the appeal and splendor of Carole King’s music. Her music is what it’s really about, and that’s why it’s still worth seeing, even though, well, all of the above.
AUDIENCE: (Oh I’ve decided that, as I judge the water service and bathrooms in my restaurant reviews, my entertainment reviews will from now on judge the audience. Yebop.) There was much less old-lady singing around me than on Broadway (thank the LORD), but more cell phones. PEOPLE. TURN THEM OFF. There was also a lotttttt of (the expected) whispering along the lines of “Oh! Husband/wife! Remember when we first heard this song when we were sharing a cherry phosphate at the soda fountain when I wore my pink poodle skirt and we held hands for the first time? This song and this show it’s all about us and I think it’s important for the entire audience to know that we have a memory of hearing this song before in our lives!” Shut up.
It’s difficult to mar such an easy, prepackaged-to-succeed show, so of course “Beautiful” is virtually unharmed by this. But save for one exception, the cast was uniformly a notch below what it should have been. I really don’t like taking personal shots, but the casting really was the unfortunate aspect of this show (and of so many shows I’ve seen here). (Are the best people just already in NYC? Do they need me to do casting here?) Like I said, Brayben’s acting was wonderful, her Brooklyn accent and youthful mannerisms without fault, but her singing as Carole was lacking. But that wasn’t even the most upsetting to me. In telling the tale of Carole’s early years of songwriting success and persona life hardship, “Beautiful” relies on two of Carole’s best friends to provide comic relief as well as plot forwarding: Cynthia Weil and Barry Mann. On Broadway, Anika Larson and Jarrod Spector were freaking off the charts perfect in mining their lines for every possible bit of hilarity and in singing their songs like their lives were on the line. Superb. Here, not so much. Lorna Want (so, yes, people are still named Lorna) treated Cynthia seemingly with kid gloves, being too British and prim instead of ballsy and ball-busting and awesome, as Cynthia should be. One of my favorite parts of the show, of any show maybe, is our introduction to Cynthia: her audition for Donny’s studio to the tune of “Happy Days Are Here Again”. In this song, we learn that Cynthia is really smart, really daring, brave, audacious, and, yes, a total ball-buster. She also has to command attention, get it, and make you feel grateful for giving her your attention. It’s an important little part that seems like it’s merely funny. Anika Larson got that and it was amazing. Lorna, not so much. Her method of commanding attention and demonstrating that her personality couldn’t be contained to the room was to…lightly tap her toes along to the music. Maybe that’s the choreographer’s or the director’s fault, but still. She didn’t own her big moment, and the rest was downhill from there. That Lorna also won an Olivier is more of a commentary on this year’s weak offerings than of her performance being award-worthy. I hope Anika doesn’t think anything of it.
Equally necessary in “Beautiful” is a scene-stealing Barry Mann. Jarrod Spector, famous for being the longest-running Frankie Valley in “Jersey Boys” (so he has that super strong falsetto), was so funny, so lovable, and so freaking strong that it’s almost not fair that anyone would have to follow him in this role. Barry is obviously Jewish, not only in name but in personality, like stereotypically. He’s a hypochondriac to the extreme, and he’s nebbishy and often immature, but adorable. You have to laugh with him and love him. Unfortunately, I don’t really think they know how to do “fun-Jewish” here in Britain. At least not like how they know in NYC! Ian McIntosh is a strong singer, but his Barry was lacking in personality. Like, he had none. He didn’t grip you or reel you in. It was just like, oh he seems nice. Byeeeee. It’s a shame because, for being a real person, Barry Mann is such a freaking fun character. I bet this was also a casting/directing problem because do they even know how to do Jewish here? Considering that Barry and Cynthia are an integral duo in the show, when one of them is weak, it’s a problem for their dynamic. When both are weak, it’s a problem for the show.
More disappointment in the ensemble! The Righteous Brothers, who are supposed to give a show-stopping performance of Mann/Weil’s “You Lost That Loving Feeling”, were…not good. My companion to the show was most disappointed with this performance. It’s a lot to live up to the original, but come on, this is the West End. You’re supposed to be able to find the kind of talent we expect. Equally subpar were the ensemble voices composing The Drifters and The Shirelles. Listen, all of these people are of course super talented. It’s just that they were miscast in playing these roles. The lead Drifters singer, at least in the early numbers (they switched around leads I think), had to change some of the melody, bringing some low parts up and some high parts down, because they weren’t in his range. Um. Excuse me. Cast someone with the proper range maybe?? The lead Shirelle (again, at least for their first number, “Will You Love Me Tomorrow”; they switched the parts around) had a really strangely deep, slow voice. It was off-putting when she spoke (as Donny’s secretary) and much nicer when she sang, but it still was not right for The Shirelles, one of the most popular and successful girl groups of all time. There was no energy in these performances, not in the way we needed. Argha bargha.
The exception that I noted above, the one performance of the lot that was actually more than I expected, was Alan Morrissey as Gerry Goffin. On Broadway, Gerry’s portrayer Jake Epstein was the only one of the four mains to not get a Tony nomination. It was unfortunate, because Epstein was very good, but in a packed category Spector clearly outshone him. Unfortunately, Olivier voters seemed to think that those Tony noms were meant to be followed and that Mann was just the more ‘award-worthy’ role, which is definitely not the case, and sadly they followed the same pattern here, nominating the three other mains but not Morrissey, whom I think was the most deserving. His Gerry hit me more emotionally than it did on Broadway, and I really felt for him in his later scenes. His performance was sometimes crushing, often moving, and overall splendid. What he brought to what many consider a thankless role (given how Gerry is the only character sort-of approaching ‘villain’ territory) was special. It’s a shame he didn’t get the recognition that his less deserving comrades did.
On this repeat viewing, I noticed a couple of things I never noticed on Broadway. For one, the strip poker scene is suuuupes awkward. Oh man. It is perfect at showing us that Carole was quite prudish and straight-laced, and that it really bothered her husband, but damn it’s awkward. It will be a fantastic scene in the movie version, I bet, but onstage it’s kind of weird? Like, Carole has old-lady hair throughout most of her twenties. We don’t need extra scenes to tell us that she wasn’t cool.
Also, did the Broadway audience ever laugh at The Drifters? When they first appear for “Some Kind of Wonderful”, the audience was laughing. Like, everyone. Hard. At first I thought it was just because they were doing cutesy old-fashioned boy band dance moves (rightly so), but that doesn’t seem like enough of an excuse, because the UK did have and does have boy bands that do similar non-hilarious moves (hello, 1D). Was my audience just super racist or something?!
Aside from the lack of Carole King in Carole King’s singing, the failure to make our two comedic characters anything resembling comedic, the lowered quality in our ensemble performances, and oh a lack of overall cohesion, “Beautiful” is still, remarkably, a lovely, pleasant, enjoyable show in the West End. I didn’t realize before how good the book is, especially for a jukebox musical. Despite all this production’s shortcomings, it’s still pretty much a success, which proves the strength of the show, the inability to really tarnish it no matter how hard people try, and of course the appeal and splendor of Carole King’s music. Her music is what it’s really about, and that’s why it’s still worth seeing, even though, well, all of the above.
AUDIENCE: (Oh I’ve decided that, as I judge the water service and bathrooms in my restaurant reviews, my entertainment reviews will from now on judge the audience. Yebop.) There was much less old-lady singing around me than on Broadway (thank the LORD), but more cell phones. PEOPLE. TURN THEM OFF. There was also a lotttttt of (the expected) whispering along the lines of “Oh! Husband/wife! Remember when we first heard this song when we were sharing a cherry phosphate at the soda fountain when I wore my pink poodle skirt and we held hands for the first time? This song and this show it’s all about us and I think it’s important for the entire audience to know that we have a memory of hearing this song before in our lives!” Shut up.
