The key ingredients to a great musical are, in no particular order: a good story, engaging music, truthful performances, a gimmick (as Gypsy reminds us) and heart, lots and lots of heart. The Last Five Years is a great musical and the Jason Robert Brown helmed production of his own musical proves it - in spades. Samantha Barks and Jonathan Bailey really shine, the production is smooth and smart, and everything works. The kind of sustained joy that all musicals can and should aspire to create.
It is a story about Jamie and Cathy and their relationship in New York City in the 1990s. It is about them getting together, getting married and then falling apart. But it is more than the story of a relationship or a marriage. It is also about the struggles of being a young artist, about having these creative things inside you that are yearning to come out and figuring out how to balance what the city demands of you, what the relationship demands of you, and what your family demands of you. Although I am not sure that I could have told you this at the time I wrote it, now I see it is as much about what it is to be a striving, creative person as it is about what it is like to be in love.
The Last Five Years has always seemed like a troubled musical, a minor masterpiece in many ways, but flawed as a piece of musical story-telling. Seeing productions of the Jason Robert Brown penned 2001 work on three continents did not suggest otherwise - not counting the Menier Chocolate Factory’s 2006 UK premiere which I did not see.
Now playing at the St James Theatre is a revival of The Last Five Years, directed by its author and composer, following his New York successes in that capacity in 2013 and earlier this year (a well received concert version with Cynthia Erivo and Joshua Henry). In every way, this production is an exhilarating and unqualified triumph.
There are many reasons for this, but the foremost one is that the interpretations of the songs by co-stars Samantha Barks and Jonathan Bailey are focussed entirely on story-telling through music. Both actors perform the material with full-bodied commitment, wry intelligence and genuine - and touching - insight. They work beautifully together.
It is true that there are moments when both Barks and Bailey are stretched and challenged by the demands of Brown’s score. These are not studio recording performances. Happily. Equally, they are performances of, sometimes brutal, honesty and they bring the very best out of the tunes and the stories, the emotions which underpin them.
Brown’s songs, like those of Stephen Sondheim, often have lives entirely separate from the musicals for which they were written. Constant exposure to the songs out of context can create false impressions. Vocal dexterity, loudness, and that shrill “Broadway sound” that deafens and fails to excite - these attributes are often associated with Brown songs when performed out of context or, indeed, when performed in context. Performers sometimes use them as virtuoso performance pieces; audiences come to expect that sort of treatment in performance of the musicals that birthed the pieces as well.
Not here. Brown has ensured that Barks and Bailey sing the songs as Brown intended - full of character, insight and brooding honesty. Brown himself is no great singer, but he is a terrific performer of his work. Both Barks and Bailey can sing - and very, very well - but they are better still at conveying the heart and soul of their characters and the raw, but mundane journey, both undertake.
Barks’ character has the most difficult task - art imitating life, in that the woman’s lot is always harder. Her story is told backwards, starting at the empty end and cycling backwards through the years to Cathy’s first date with Jamie. Barks sings the opening number, Still Hurting, with a plaintive vacant desolation, allowing, as the song progresses, the inevitable bitterness which characterises some part of the end of a relationship, to emerge savagely and strongly.
This is no sentimental turn. Barks looks for the essence of Everywoman that Cathy has about her, and brings that to the fore. By making Cathy normal and comprehensible, Barks allows the character to speak to everyone who has a sister or wife or daughter. She is, in turns, gentle, insistent, hurt and glitteringly joyful. She is at her best in A Summer in Ohio and I Can Do Better Than That, but everything she sings here is touching and delicate.
Thanks to some lovely lighting (Howard Hudson), a cute prop row boat (Derek McLane’s set is minimal but perfect throughout) and a gorgeous wedding dress (costumes by Gabriella Slade), The Next Ten Minutes is the true highlight of the evening, exactly as it should be. It comes in the middle of each of Cathy’s and Jamie’s stories and beautifully captures the insecurities and hopes of each character, as Jamie nervously proposes marriage and Cathy joyfully accepts. The staging here is simple but heart-skeweringly effective, and Barks and Bailey nail the intensity and simplicity of the moment with stylish candour.
Throughout, but especially in The Next Ten Minutes, it is wholly convincing that Barks’ Cathy and Bailey’s Jamie could have met, loved and married. Their chemistry is almost palpable; their shared energy a triumph of simpatico.
For his part, Bailey is simply terrific as Jamie and establishes himself here as a first tier musical theatre performer. It’s a wholly committed performance and one that puts first and foremost Jamie’s status as an author. This allows the ever reliable crowd pleaser, The Schmuel Song, to be revelatory - of not just Jamie’s understanding of Cathy’s needs, but the audience’s understanding of Jamie’s drive as a storyteller, an author.
Bailey also excels at the Everyman aspects of his character. He makes Shiska Goddess very funny, but also establishes his character’s geeky face-to-the-world and the underlying ego that fuels his thoughts and actions. With just a quick look at an imaginary mirror, Bailey signals Jamie’s self-doubt and cocky hopefulness, attributes which would define Jamie through his journey. A Miracle Would Happen is perfect in Bailey’s hands - having secured a fabulous wife, this most typical of men puts career first and wants more than he should. The trick is to make this flow on naturally from the happiness of The Next Ten Minutes and Bailey pulls this off expertly.
Perhaps the best indication of Barks’ effectiveness as Cathy is that her absence is a devastating indictment of Jamie’s adulterous betrayal in Nobody Needs To Know. We don’t bother to imagine the woman Jamie has slept with, but while he comes to his realisations about what his actions mean, Barks’ Cathy may as well be present, so strong is the sense of her. Bailey is especially vulnerable and honest in this scene and it is a bravura moment for both performers.
Brown’s direction is assured and thoughtful, breath-taking in its simplicity. Duality is a key tool in the musical narrative and Brown reinforces that in the staging. The quote above is cited in the programme and credited to Brown. This production emphasises the creative career aspects of the breakdown in the marriage better than any I have seen before, without that getting in the way of the falling-in-and-out-of-love story.
Musical Director Torquil Munro and his five piece band provide sensational accompaniment - wonderful, soaring melodies, aching and rich and sweet, swinging beats that push along the pulse. The music is served very well indeed.
I doubt I will see a production of The Last Five Years more involving, moving and enjoyable than this one. No star turns, just graceful, clever and witty central performances that capture every nuance of lyric and tune.
Unforgettable and unmissable.