All About Eve: Fasten Your Seatbeats, It’s Going to be a Bumpy Night Because This Show is Terribleby Randi / March 28, 2019Six the Musical: Divorced! Beheaded! Live! And Here to Save British Musical Theatre
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is the new musical Six, playing at London’s Arts Theatre.
Longtime Laughfrodisiac readers (or people who have spoken to me in real life for more than five minutes) have heard me bitch and moan about the sorry state of British musical theatre before, and often. The only great shows for literally decades came courtesy of Andrew Lloyd Webber (and he wasn’t immune to some straight-up horseshit), and a random few from Elton John (Billy Elliot) and Tim Minchin (Matilda). Matilda premiered in 2010, so that’s almost a decade without a great new British musical. And people wonder why I always say musical theatre is better on Broadway. While that’s still true, finally, forking g-d FINALLY, a new, original, fantastic musical written by Brits has arrived. It seems what the world of British musicals needed wasn’t another old white man (honestly when has that ever been the answer), but two young Cambridge students ready to make their mark before even graduating (I know, I hate them too). Six the Musical is a girl-power retelling of the stories of Henry VIII’s six wives, a concert-style show that is fast and furious in its remarkable ability to share history through modern pop music that is funny, inspired, and absurdly catchy.
From just the tagline – “Divorced, Beheaded, Live!” playing on the famous rhyme for remembering how the wives died – I knew this was going to be fun, but I was not ready to be blown away by the brilliant music. The six wives, onstage with their all-female band, are outfitted in the coolest of costumes, a shiny modern slant on medieval garb, kind of like it’s Halloween and they decided on ‘sexy Tudor.’ They’ve gathered now to have a sort of contest, to see which of them suffered the most and ‘wins’ that dubious title of most unfortunate of the six wives, kind of like how Monica won the title of giving the best bad massages. As soon as they begin singing “Welcome to the show, to the histor-remix” I was like OH DIP (because I speak like Jason Mendoza as a rule now), WORDPLAY, this is going to be spectacular. And from that opening number, “Ex-Wives”, I was enthralled and honestly elated at how good the music was.
From the opening onward, the lyrics are clever and the music is fun and memorable. Throughout all of it, there are amazing nerdy history jokes peppered in, which, as nerds, we adored, and straight up historical lessons on things we never knew. Since English people are super nerdy about knowing and loving their history (would be cool, America!), there’s an immediate sense that everyone is sharing inside jokes, which is a surefire way to solidify audience engagement and enjoyment, and guarantee positive word of mouth. In fact, this is the first show in a while where the audience was so engaged that there wasn’t much extraneous chatter or phone use, which is a g-d miracle.
Pretty much every musical number – and since it is a concert-style show, it’s a series of musical numbers with limited dialogue in between – delivers, with the badass energy of “Ex-Wives” continuing into the first solo, Catherine of Aragon’s (Jarneia Richard-Noel) “No Way”, about how she was not about to give this jackass the annulment he wanted. “No Way” is one of the catchier songs, one I could see being played on the radio (it’s even on my running playlist). It is a forking great time and Richard-Noel has a blast with it. The girl-power vibe remains into the second wife’s solo, but in a much different way. If you know your history, you know that second wife is the most famous one, Anne Boleyn. Where Catherine #1 had self-assurance, Anne goes for cheeky and trades in on innocent-seeming adorableness to gloss over anything she may have done wrong in the funny “Don’t Lose UR Head”. Definitely the millennial character of the bunch, Boleyn (Millie O’Connell) sings how she’s “sorry not sorry bout what I said…I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, lol.” It’s a bold move to show Boleyn as a naughty young girl trying to make her actions seem cute, and I liked that even though she’s the most famous wife, she doesn’t get the most attention or development. We have more interesting wives to learn about.
Like Wife #3, Jane Seymour, or as the other wives mock her, “the only one he really loved.” To have a needed break from all the loud fast songs so far, Jane gets the slow Adele-like power ballad about her “Heart of Stone”. Natalie Paris does a fantastic job with this well-placed song and gets to really show off, while selling a convincing and honestly heartbreaking take on why she wasn’t lucky just because Henry loved her. I love that this show makes you reconsider all of your assumptions about these women. Like Wife #4, Anna of Cleves. First of all, I always thought it was Anne. Second of all, obviously liberties were taken, but I adore thinking of her as having made out like a g-d bandit after Henry divorced her. In her hilarious song, “Get Down”, Anna (a great Alexia McIntosh) says since Henry divorced her rather quickly because she wasn’t actually as hot as she looked in her profile pic (erm, oil painting), she put up with a few months of his crap until he divorced her and then she got to live like a queen for the rest of her life. Not a bad deal at all, she admits, taking herself out of the competition with her proud acknowledgement that her life post-Henry was theeee shit. And nothing is funnier and more perfect than the group number introducing Anna – “Haus Of Holbein”. In it, we learn how Henry turned to Germany for his next wife, and what better way to tell us than in a spot-on spoof of a German club anthem, absolutely hysterical and perfect.
Of course, Anna was the lucky one, and after he divorced her he was right back to treating his wives horribly. Next came Katherine Howard, my favorite of the bunch, with her incredible number “All You Wanna Do”, which has her channeling Ariana Grande while bragging about her promiscuous past in the beginning and then turning it into a devastating post-mortem on how her whole life was about being used and abused by men. Aimee Atkinson, with this show since the beginning, was the standout for me, and in one song she achieved the kind of character development most shows dream about. It doesn’t hurt that this song has some of the cleverest lyrics, and the greatest use of the phrase ‘birds and the bees’ maybe ever.
With all these truly amazing songs, it was inevitable that there would be a slight dip in quality, and that happened when we got to the sixth wife, Catherine Parr (Courtney Stapleton, on as alternate). She didn’t get to really shine as the others did, because her song is the weakest. It also ends abruptly as she decides to change their focus, so it’s not as crucial to have strengthened since it segues into a group number. And that group number is pretty moving, as the wives decide to change their perspective, and ours. Maybe instead of regarding them as being famous just because they were married to Henry, they say, maybe we should consider that hewas only famous because he was married to them. Whenever you have a show that sets out to be ‘girl-power’, it runs the risk of pandering for applause, and while they came close to that line, the way they presented this discussion saved it.
The downsides are few: For one, the sound in the Arts Theatre isn’t great. It’s a tiny almost-black box of a theatre, with acoustics that do not measure up to what a West End theatre should have. It was often hard to make out the extraordinarily clever lyrics, which is a shame, because they are extraordinarily clever. Whether it was solely due to the sound engineering or a mix of sound issues plus enunciation needs, I don’t know, but it would be wise to shore up the clarity on either front. My only other issue is that, because it is so strong, it’s a shame it’s not a full-fledged book musical. With equal focus on six different characters, you’d think they would have had trouble cutting it to a suitable length for modern audience’s attention spans. Instead, it presents the opposite situation, with an adoring audience eager for more. At 75 minutes, it’s great that it never overstays its welcome – always leave them wanting more, I guess – but it could easily take another 15 minutes, flesh out a few of the more superficial characters, and still be a breezy show. But I guess it’s best to count our lucky stars that there is nary a weak moment in this show, and that the audience was fully rapt (and off their phones, praise be) the whole time, so who am I to dare risk all that magic? Six is a joyous, provocative, inspired show and I will gladly see it again and again, which is something I have never said about a British musical.
INFORMATION
The Arts Theatre is tiny, so it is a madhouse in the lobby. The bathrooms are tiny so get in line early. This is one show where it’s fun to be super close.
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Mrs. Doubtfire Musical is So Much Better than it has Any Right to Be
The musical adaptation of Mrs. Doubtfire has met a great deal of criticism — for daring to recreate the magic of Robin Williams, for treating the dressing of a man as a woman as a joke — while trying to be a commercial success during the hardest time Broadway has ever faced. Seemingly shrugging all of that weight off its shoulders, this show works to provide a forking great time. It may not be high art destined to become a classic or have a score I’d listen to on repeat, but it’s much better than expected and was by far the most fun we had in the theatre on our recent trip to NYC (yes, even more fun than Tony Yazbeck’s Cary Grant singing about being an enormous rocketship penis while on acid (I think that was trying to be somewhat serious, so)). Thanks to its well-paced and entertaining book, its clever modernization of key scenes, and above all a masterful performance from Rob McClure, Mrs. Doubtfire is so much better than we expected.
And yes, expectations tend to be low when someone is tasked with stepping into the shoes of Robin Williams in a part as legendary as this. The only way around that is to go in a somewhat different direction. And while the heart of the character is still there, Rob McClure’s version is different enough to sidestep direct comparisons so the resulting response is overwhelmingly positive. His Daniel seems younger and fresher, more chaotic and manic (hard to imagine yes), more fun-loving even than Robin’s, who showed at least some underlying seriousness from the start. Rob’s interpretation is well-suited to the exuberance that musical theatre can produce. He is an incredible performer who clearly gives himself fully to every second of performance, in a way that must be exhausting but he never shows it.
So his take on Daniel is slightly different, but without other changes, including to the other characters and the story deets, it would be another Pretty Woman fiasco, which no one wants. Luckily, there are interesting and well-made changes throughout, not enough to bother anyone who wanted to see what they know, but enough to distinguish it from the movie and give it a reason to exist. The best character updates were to the characters of Daniel’s brother Frank, his boyfriend, and Daniel’s social worker Mrs. Sellner, and the best modernizations were to the cooking scene and the raptor rap. Frank, played in the movie by Harvey Fierstein, is another performance that simply cannot be copied, especially when the original guy is a Broadway guy and so should not be copied because then you’d be like why didn’t they just hire him, he’s like a block away. Luckily. Brad Oscar has taken the role and, as he always does, made it hysterical. Here, Frank’s big thing is that when he lies, he yells. Given how much his brother’s situation forces him to lie throughout the show, this problem becomes forking hilarious. It was by far one of my favorite bits. His boyfriend is played by a very fun J. Harrison Ghee, a younger and cooler guy obsessed with divas and Dreamgirls. The scene of all his potential inspirations for the Doubtfire disguise is well done (forking Maggie Thatcher lol), and it was pretty funny to realize two Princess Dianas were on Broadway stages at the same time (rip Diana the Musical).
For Mrs. Sellner, the transition to musical theatre from the movie version of her drab, serious social worker could have been a clunker. But by casting Charity Angel Dawson, a motherforking BELTER, they enhanced the role by giving Daniel a nightmare sequence about his upcoming court date, in which Charity, well, belted up a storm in a hellscape. Such a good way to let her sing in a way that didn’t break her character.
As for modernizing the almost-30-year-old film (I KNOW), a super clever bit was in reworking the famous scene where Daniel tries to cook for the first time, and burns his boobs. Yeah, the boobs still burn (how do they do!), but the scene cleverly has him watching various YouTube videos from online chefs, which of course the wonderfully game ensemble acts out. Such a great move that provided amazing humor. As for the boring old man’s TV show + the raptor rap (which I can do on request if you want, should I get a Patreon for this very purpose), we see more of the dreadful show, and the raptor rap scene is changed to have Daniel using a loop machine left on the set. He creates the most incredible looping beats and rhythms and sings 100 parts over it in a moment of absolute genius, giving Rob his best moment in a show full of him having star-making moments.
The joke-filled book keeps the pace at a nice clip, with enough of the famous quotes (“it was a run-by fruiting!”) to placate the masses and enough new bits (“pecs and guns and geese better scurry”, my fave) to lift it above copied and pasted dreck like, well, Pretty Woman. (Although for my taste they should have nixed one or two more quotes from the movie (like Miranda’s “the whole time? the whole time? the whole time??” which no one can deliver like Sally Field and then if they could deliver it like her, it would be an annoying copy) but that’s coming from someone who knows the movie by heart.) Although Jenn Gambatese tries her best, and her best is greatness, the character of Miranda comes across as just as much of a wet blanket here, even though she seems even more justified than in the movie. It’s a nice move to make Miranda a fashion designer instead of an architect (and they have fun playing with that in Act II), and she gets an even younger hot love interest (whose weight-lifting scene seemed unnecessary until Rob’s physical comedy with the weights he couldn’t lift, literally the funniest part of the show), but being the straight man can be a thankless role. (Actually, the actual funniest part of the entire show is when the lights lifted at intermission and my husband said “wow I can’t believe they got Amy Klobuchar to do this show.” omg.)
Aside from Rob, the cast highlight by a mile is Analise Scarpaci’s Lydia, who is pitch-perfect throughout. She has a way to make the big emotions of musical theatre seem completely natural. Unlike…I hate to say this…but the worst part of the show — little Natalie. I KNOW IT’S SO MEAN TO SPEAK ILL OF THIS CHILD BUT SHE WAS VERY BAD. Every time she spoke it was unbelievably grating and I almost screamed several times “SOMEONE PUT A SOCK IN THAT CHILD’S MOUTH.” None of Mara Wilson’s sweetness, just all grate grate grate. Honestly this is a direction fault – who told her to deliver every single word like she was imitating SNL characters imitating Borscht Belt comedians.
As for the elephant in the room, I think they handled the fact that the premise is a man dressing as a woman well. Andre, Frank’s boyfriend, dismisses the idea that what Daniel is doing is anything like what trans people do, and rightly so – it’s not. To suggest that this cis man dressing up in a disguise is in any way related to trans people living honestly in the opposite of disguise seems offensive. And, just as with Tootsie, the cis man’s donning such a disguise is shown as patently wrong. Obviously I am not the authority here, but it seemed like a satisfactory way to comment without getting dragged down into something that would only put the two concepts on equal footing, when they aren’t.
INFORMATION
Mrs. Doubtfire plays the Stephen Sondheim theatre, which makes me giggle because, like, he def didn’t write this.
The show is currently on hiatus to account for covidtastrophes and should be back on March 14.
I have never seen ANYTHING theatrical managed as smoothly as the vaccine-proof checking was for this show. As everyone lined up outside to enter, various staff members walked down the line to check proof of vaccination, so it was done super quickly and not just at the door, adding zero waiting time while out in the cold. They stamped the hand of everyone once checked (with the most adorable stamp, of the Doubtfire silhouette) so that to actually enter the building you just flashed your stamped hand. Having the staff go through the line and not just do this at the entrance made all the difference; it’s so simple and straightforward to do it this way but you’d be surprised (I am continually surprised) at how stupidly other venues do it. Broadway I wuv you.
“Underground Railroad Game”: The Most Scandalizing Thing I’ve Ever Seen Comes to London
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about the shocking American play that recently came to London’s Soho Theatre.
You know how art can be fucking crazy? (‘You know how people have these little habits that get you down?’) Like how artists, regardless of their medium, like to shock their audience into strongly feeling something so they do bonkers things like using feces instead of paint (real example) and preserving a shark in formaldehyde (real example) and nailing their scrotum to Red Square (real example) and constructing a complicated series of machines that take food and pass it through tubes and bowls to digest it in stages until it literally produces poo at the end (real example that I’ll discuss more of when I blog about our Australia adventure)? Well here’s one more example! ‘Underground Railroad Game’, considered one of the 25 best plays of the past 25 years by the New York Times, is forking nuts and made me feel very uncomfortable in ways no theatre has ever done. Yet unlike the aforementioned examples of alarming ‘art’, this play wasn’t being scandalous just for the sake of being scandalous – it actually had a purpose for wicking me out so much, and although I’m still grappling with it, I can’t deny that it was powerful. (The other examples are bullshirt.)
‘Underground Railroad Game’, which from now on I’ll refer to as URG because that’s the sound I made through the entire back half, is a riveting 80 minute tour of American racism on a societal level and an interpersonal level, and even though it starts off funny, it’ll leave you staring hard into the floor wishing that it would swallow you whole so you don’t have to think about how gross you feel from what you just witnessed and what it said about the world and people and black people and white people and America and just everything but then you get up because you want to take a shower.
And boy does it start off funny. The play opens on a barn at night in the 1800s, as a scared, skittish black woman enters and ravenously eats an apple from her pocket. But when she hears a man outside, she hides in a wooden box. The man still finds her but tells her she doesn’t have to be scared – he’s one of the good white men, an ‘angel’ really, who will help this runaway slave escape to the north. Their acting is overly earnest and over the top, and kind of funny but we started to worry that the entire play was going to bank on this conceit holding water for more than a few minutes. Of course, just when we thought ‘hmm is this really this play?’, the lights came on in the entire theatre, jarring the audience, and the two actors came closer downstage and said to us, “Okay class! What did we learn?”
Those two actors, Jennifer Kidwell and Scott R. Sheppard, are the two creators and writers of this play. And they’re not playing a slave and an abolitionist – they’re playing two enthusiastic teachers at Hanover Middle School, and we, the audience members, are their 7th grade students. They explain that their little skit was an introduction to their social studies unit on the Underground Railroad, in which they will combine forces as classes. We students would be separated into Union and Confederate Troops, and during the next few weeks, the Union army would try to sneak black baby dolls from one classroom’s wooden box to the other’s without Confederate troops catching them – our own underground railroad! To see which side we were on, we were told to look under our seats, where we all found little envelopes with little army men figurines inside. (This is when I broke my theatre rule of No Talking and whispered to Husband “oh so this is like REALLY interactive, huh.”) Who has a blue figure? they asked, and the appropriate audience members whooped, as people do. You’re the Union army! Who has a gray figure? I did, and I was told ‘You’re the Confederacy!’ Instead of whooping, we all, being woke, booed, and Sheppard quickly said “Hey hey none of that! We support our troops!” and we all died laughing.
As middle school teachers, they absolutely slayed me with their pitch perfect demeanor and comments. “Eyes up here!” they pointedly shouted at anyone who was talking to their companion or looking elsewhere. “I better not see any phones kids!” My favorite too-accurate thing of theirs was when the (extended) school bell would ring and they’d both shout together at us: “That’s not our bell! That’s not our bell! Stay seated!” One such moment had me laughing so hard that I made a little squeak-laugh sound after the rest of the audience had already quieted down from their laughter. Sheppard and Kidwell both focused their attention on me like laser beams and glared me down and then Sheppard said, “We’ll wait.” I wanted to laugh even harder at that but true to middle school form I just turned bright red instead and wanted to vomit as everyone turned to look at me, but I also became hysterical.
So I bet you are thinking this sounds just HILARIOUS and like a jolly good time, and it really was, because this was the nice little part that represented how most people learn about racism and America’s racist history – they make it palatable in our schools, and easy and clean and no one gets hurt. But that way doesn’t really work, because our history wasn’t easy or clean and way too many people got hurt, and continue to get hurt, from the racist foundations of America. These cheerful lessons don’t do much to teach kids about real racism and how it affects our society or stop them from growing up into racist adults.
And so, Kidwell and Sheppard swiftly change the story’s focus from these cute lessons for the kids onto their interpersonal relationship as teachers, and then as romantic partners, of two different races. At first it’s funny, like in their Gene-Kelly-throwback dancing around town, or when they ‘walk’ through town making jokes about race that quickly go too far. Even though they start pushing boundaries early on, they’re still boundaries we have seen before, so the discomfort is familiar.
But then. Oh but then. As their relationship progresses, they can no longer gloss over the serious issues created by their different races or the history of what that difference means. Sure both of them teach about slavery but only one of them really understands it on a profound rather than academic level. As a black woman and a white man, they are going to be haunted by the master and slave relationship of their ancestors, haunted by their own lesson plan of whether they’d be reaffirming or rewriting history together. They try to work out their issues in weird sexual ways that become somewhat cruel. Then the ‘somewhat’ falls by the wayside and these two incredibly brave performers start exorcising the demons of history in full-on sadomasochistic ways, playing back and forth with the master and slave roles as the stunned audience looks on and wonders whether we should go get help. The first glimpse of a stark naked Sheppard elicits gasps from the astonished audience, but then he’s naked for like a good 20 minutes, as Kidwell treats him like he’s on an auction block and breaks rulers on his back and chases him around with terrifying advances, culminating in him masturbating into a flag. All of it seemed real – especially, grossly, that last bit – so it was distressing, offensive, and actually appalling to watch. As I covered my face with my hands, I was flabbergasted that the adorable little middle-school-assembly show I was laughing at an hour ago had morphed into this horrifying trauma for everyone involved. But I get it. Going too far in ways we’ve never really seen before in the theatre (at least mainstream theatre) let them so powerfully argue that the horrors of slavery are as relevant and real today as they were in the past, damaging people and relationships and society still. I mean I think they had to do it, at least. I’m still quite traumatized.
INFORMATION
‘Underground Railroad Game’ is at London’s Soho Theatre until October 13th (looks like they got an extension). Tickets are pretty cheap.
No I didn’t stage door are you kidding me I saw them naked.
1 Comment
Can’t wait to see this especially now after this wonderful review