For unashamed gratuitous singing and dancing, you need look no further than 42nd Street, the Broadway hit musical comedy that is big on great tunes and opportunities for virtuoso choreography, but low on storyline or message. This production embraces the virtues of the piece, and smooths over its shortcomings in a breathless, intoxicating display of toe-tapping, tune-humming indulgence. With an ensemble of 34, a smoking hot band, and blindingly good dancing throughout, this is a smash hit. A celebration of Broadway in every way.
What was the word you’ve just said, Allentown? I’m offering you a chance to star in the biggest musical Broadway’s seen in twenty years and you say: “Allentown?”
Without fail, when the bows come after the curtain falls on a production of 42nd Street, some in the audience are perplexed. This is because the final bows are usually given to the old hands who play Dorothy Brock and Julian Marsh, and not to the young stars who play Billy Lawlor and Peggy Sawyer. In some productions, that feels right, because the older hands give remarkable performances or are big stars. In others, though, the youngsters are so good, especially Peggy, that after she bows you forget who is yet to take a bow.
So it is with the revival of 42nd Street which opened tonight at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and seems likely to be in for a long run. Clare Halse is so remarkable as Peggy, particularly in Act Two, when Sheena Easton’s Dorothy Brock only has one scene, that when she takes her bow, you truly think hers will be the last. When Easton and Tom Lister (Julian Marsh here) then appear, it seems ludicrous that their bows where not before Halse’s. Yet, there it is.
42nd Street is a show that demands much from its central characters. When the mix is spot-on, Brock and Marsh can shuffle off with the kudos, leaving Sawyer and Lawlor to do the hard legwork. But when, as here, it is the younger leads who turn in the bravura performances, it is easy for the veterans to be outperformed.
Partly, this is because the creaky, unbelievable narrative of 42nd Street does not offer rich rewards. The value comes from the dancing and the singing, not the narrative. Michael Stewart and Mark Bramble, who here also directs, have shoehorned a threadbare tale into a string of song and dance numbers to produce a frothy, funny confection that is truly a showcase for the talents of composer Harry Warren, lyricist Al Dublin, and choreographer Randy Skinner (who augments the original work of Gower Champion).
With Jae Alexander in charge of the orchestra, there are safe hands controlling the music, but safe hands capable of making the well known hits from the score, brassy, sexy and bewitchingly exuberant. It is near impossible not to bop or tap in time to the sensationally strong rhythms Alexander summons, and the rich complexities of the orchestrations yield many aural rewards (even though Strings are represented by only one Harp and a Banjo/Guitar). This is especially true in the sections where dance is in the spotlight; the combination of Alexander’s good time band, and Skinner’s synchronised, precision moves, powered by an exceptionally gifted, exceptionally disciplined, ensemble makes for a heady, joyous, and continually thrilling, experience.
This is a particularly well sung 42nd Street. The cast has serious vocal skills; even at the height of technically difficult dance routines, harmonies and melodies are given proper value, phrases are full and lustrous, tone is impeccable. The tenor line is gloriously strong, led by Neal who is simply one of the best, if not the best, singers to ever enliven Billy Lawlor. The great test of the ensemble - the glorious bitter-sweet Sunny Side To Every Situation, which opens Act Two - is here first rate, a masterclass in delicious vocal harmony. So is Dames.
Diction never suffers and the balance between voice, orchestra and choreographic percussion is constantly exact - Gareth Owen does a superb job with the Sound design.
What is most extraordinary about Skinner’s choreographic vision (and Bramble’s overall approach) is that the bar starts very high for the technical virtuosity of the dancing and it keeps outdoing itself. There are breath-taking routines from the moment the curtain rises (yes, that iconic opening image remains) to when it finally ends, with each one ratcheting up the stakes. By the time Lullaby of Broadway thunders to its crescendo, you think it can’t be topped - then With Plenty of Money and You and the title song show you it can. Even the curtain call has a routine which is faultless and remarkable. Its dancing to die for.
Visually, the show is a miracle of colour, with Roger Kirk’s costume designs stylish and glittering, a riot of fabric, sequins and panache, continually livening up Douglas W. Schmidt’s already lively scenic designs. Schmidt stays faithful to the timing of the piece, the Depression in New York in the 1930s, and the magic of the theatre is conveyed by the performances more than the scenery. With Kirk’s costumes, this is a perfect match; the sense of the horror of the tanked economy is ever present, but always diminished by the showbiz maxim “The show must go on.”
Peter Mumford’s lighting design is perfect too, giving razzle-dazzle when necessary, and permitting the back-stage shadows to be darker when that is the mood. He conveys a clear sense of light seen through Stage eyes - rehearsal, performance, and real world - and enhances the longer dance routines by gradual or sudden shifts of ambience which are very effective.
This is the kind of production which really deserves the tag - Spectacular. The engine room for it is the extraordinary ensemble and they are given superb support in every area of the physical production, which is as corny, camp, and clever as you would expect 42nd Street to be.
Only the book is deficient. It reeks of misogyny and unacceptable behaviour. These are matters which could be easily altered by deft revisions. Some traditions could be abandoned for new thoughts - the staging of Shuffle Off To Buffalo needs a total rethink, for instance, because though the tune endures, the predatory old man shtick really doesn’t.
But in the end, the book is no problem. By and large, it can be ignored and focus placed where rewards are reaped - the singing and dancing. Some of it might be gratuitous, but all of it is undeniably fabulous.
The casting of the principal players works well, much better, actually, than is often the case. Tom Lister is an excellent Julian Marsh, tall, brash, manly, with a suitably gruff voice that can belt when needed. He slightly overdoes the angry genius director trope, but he is thoroughly convincing, managing brooding romantic moments as well as curtly funny ones.
Sheena Easton, somehow channeling aspects of Bernadette Peters, makes a decent Dorothy Brock, although she is too much harridan and not enough seasoned Broadway pro. She is at her best in her solo singing, but she has a deft line in comedy and gets good support from her two beaus - Norman Bowman’s smooth nice guy, Pat Denning, and Bruce Montague’s lecherous car cowboy, Abner Dillon.
Jasna Ivir belts and breezes through her role as Maggie Jones, making the absolute most of her key change in Lullaby of Broadway and elsewhere demonstrating that broad comedy can still work reliably. Christopher Howell is far less successful as Bert Barry (not a laugh is generated there) but Graeme Henderson, who was in the original West End cast, is a real delight as the non-nonsense assistant to Marsh, Andy Lee.
Stuart Neal pushes slightly too much to come across entirely convincingly as the rakish juvenile lead; he should relax and rely upon his natural, considerable, charms. He sings brilliantly and makes the silly Billy a fun and engaging figure, one you almost wish Peggy would end up with, permanently. His stamina is admirable and he keeps his voice sustained and buoyant regardless of the demands placed upon his feet, all of which he meets with sophisticated charm and brio. Without doubt, the best Billy Lawlor I have seen.Which is just as well because otherwise Neal would be annihilated by the powerhouse performance given by Clare Halse as Peggy. Embracing her character’s journey, Halse finishes 42nd Street a bona fide, unassailable star.
Halse plays the comedy well, and charts Peggy’s journey from self-assured chorus hopeful, through first-time Broadway performer and first-time Broadway reject, to hopeful and, then, triumphant surprise leading lady. She is vital, charming, and warm throughout, never losing the audience’s complete empathy.
Her dancing is flawless, and endlessly impressive. Despite the numbers of talented types around her, including Neal and the athletic ensemble, she always looks like the singular standout talent. This may be partly a tribute to the efforts of others to hide their lights, but bushels seemed scarce indeed on the Theatre Royal stage.
Halse is just extraordinary, and this part allows her to shine in the best way she can. The winning combination of hope, determination, and ability she exudes sees Halse captivate the audience, almost from the word go, and never let them go.
One of the things actors playing Peggy sometimes overlook is establishing a true bond with the girls who work in the chorus line with her. Halse does not make that mistake and her scenes with Emma Caffrey, Clare Rickard and Ella Martine (Annie, Phyllis and Lorraine - all splendid) are sweet indeed. She makes a great dancing partner for Neal too, and there is a real sense of possibility between them.
There are no weak spots in the gifted ensemble, but there are also some real standouts: Luke George, Philip Bertioli, Billie-Kay, Jasmine Kerr, Leah Harris, Katie Fox, Sam Murphy and Adam Denman. All quite terrific. The only qualm about the ensemble was the lingering disbelief that it was not possible to find a non-Caucasian male for any of the spots in this cast.
This is one West End production which lives up to its own hype. It is the biggest Broadway musical in town and it is genuinely an all-singing, all-dancing spectacular.
Unmissable old-fashioned delight.