West Side Story (a review)

Anyone who knows me will know that I am a big fan of musical theatre.  In fact, I'd go so far as to say I'm pretty nerdy about it.  For example, whilst all the kids I work with were singing Let It Go from Disney's Frozen, I was just excitedly telling everyone that Idina Menzel (the voice of Elsa) was the original Maureen in RENT.  

I get my musical theatre geekery from my mum, who pretty much raised me on the classics: The Sound of Music, The King And I, Carousel, Half A Sixpence and of course West Side Story.  So when I read that the new touring version of West Side Story conveniently landed in Plymouth just a few days after my mum's birthday, it seemed a pretty easy decision as to what this year's present should be...

For anyone who hasn't seen West Side Story, be it on film or on stage, I'll give you a quick summary. Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim's show is based loosely on Romeo and Juliet. Essentially, it's the story of two rival gangs - the white American "Jets" and the Peurto Rican "Sharks" - fighting over territory in New York City.  A guy named Tony, who's trying to step away from his time in the Jets, meets and falls in love with Maria, the sister of the Sharks' gang-leader.  As the two groups struggle for supremacy, the young couple vow to find a place where they can be together safely.  I won't say too much more than that, because... Well, spoilers. 

Of course, you hear the word "gang" and pretty much the last thing you imagine is musical theatre, which does make for some unintentional hilariousness.  The Jets and the Sharks might be squabbling violently, but they do it rather beautifully.  If real-life gangs spent their time angrily pirouetting at each other and clicking their fingers menacingly, whilst singing insults, they'd be a lot less scary, that's all I'm saying...

"SO YOU WANT MY TURF?  THEN I CHALLENGE YOU TO A BALLET DUEL!"

There were two teenagers in the row behind my mum and me in the theatre and one of them said in the interval: "I'm not being funny, but if you brought members of a real gang to see this, they'd think you were taking the piss and they'd probably kill you."  Not going to lie, that overheard gem was a highlight of my night.

All jokes aside, however, the dancing in this production was breathtaking.  The cast put on such an incredible show that it was hard not to get utterly lost in the movement of the whole thing.  From the opening gang scenes, where dance was employed as a show of power and strength, to the beautiful balletic routine during Somewhere in the second half, the dancing alone was worth the ticket price.  Joey Mckneely's choreography was just brilliant.

The visual spectacle was aided by the impressive use of lighting on stage, plus images of New York City, projected onto the back screen.  The set was simple enough, but was used to brilliant effect and to be honest, you don't need massive sets when the action on stage is this good.  In fact, the starkness of the set design at some points (particularly the end) was really powerful, as it tied in with the starkness of the situations the characters were facing.  The lack of "in-your-face" set design means the audience can focus entirely on what's happening on stage and I always think that's better, especially in a show with such dark and emotive themes as West Side Story, which covers everything from gang violence to racism and yet still manages to have uplifting moments.

The actors were perfectly cast, too.  Katie Hall was wonderful as Maria - sweet, innocent and yet passionate with it.  Her voice is astounding and she portrayed Maria's heartbreak beautifully.  Louis Maskell was a brilliant Tony; strong, yet sensitive and with a voice you could bathe in.  What is it about guys who sing?!  WHAT MAGIC DO THEY POSSESS?!  Aaanyway...

I'm just saying if a guy serenaded me, I'd be putty in his hands, that's all...

As a kid, watching the film version, I was always a fan of the feisty Anita and Djalenga Scott brought her to life with passion and fire. Her sense of fun was evident immediately, which made her later scenes, when she portrayed such hurt and anger, all the more affecting.  Anita's big moment in the show is the well-known and well-loved song and dance number America and sure enough, it was a highlight of this production.  The singing, the dancing and the acting were all absolutely spot on and one of my only disappointments was that it wasn't done again as an encore, because it was just too good to see only once!

It's really hard to find fault with this touring version of West Side Story.  It's one of my favourite musicals and this production certainly didn't disappoint.  The gangs were angry, the dancing was outstanding, the singing was fantastic and there were some laughs to be had before the inevitable tears (and yes, I cried; try to look surprised).

The show is still on tour and I really can't recommend it highly enough.  If you get a chance to see it, go, go, go!

Check tour dates here!

American Psycho Review

Judge not, lest ye be judged.  Or something.

I am a Whovian.  I am unashamed.  In fact, I wrote a whole blog about my love of Doctor Who just a couple of months ago.  I also have an enormous crush on Matt Smith.  And as the cherry on this particular Emma-cake, I am also a huge lover of musical theatre.

So, when it was announced that Matt Smith was to star in a musical adaptation of Brett Easton Ellis' American Psycho once his time in the TARDIS was over, it was less a question of shall I go, more "WHEN CAN I GO?!"

And so, on Friday 3rd January, I found myself sitting in the tiny Almeida Theatre, desperately double and triple checking that I had switched off my phone.  Nobody needs to hear the Doctor Who theme tune going off at a pivotal moment, least of all Matt Smith, I'm sure...

The show starts with a bang.  There's no soft dimming of the lights whilst a pretty overture plays - it's a loud bang, sudden darkness and clever use of lighting and stage design to make you feel almost as though you're in a computer game - nothing feels real.  Whilst cast members are dotted around the audience to sing the show's opening number - Clean - Matt Smith appears on stage, rising through a trap door wearing nothing but a very small pair of white Y-fronts and an eye mask.  Note to self:  You're asthmatic.  You must remember to breathe when confronted with things like this...

Can  I make HIM my New Year's Resolution?!

If you're wondering how the hell anyone could make an enjoyable musical out of a story about a murderous psychopath, then you're not alone.  I warned my friend Lizzie (who not only came to see the show with me, but spent over four hours desperately trying to buy tickets online before she was finally successful) that it might be "gory, possibly disturbing and a bit weird."

Words I didn't use were "funny," "slick" and "massively entertaining, yet rather thought-provoking."  The truth is, I should have used those words, because that's exactly what American Psycho is.

"Funny?" I hear you cry (I should probably see someone about those voices in my head).  Well, yes.  The fact is, Ellis' original novel was a satirical tirade against consumerism and society's shallow obsession with things like looks and social standing.  So it's no surprise that this musical production takes those themes and cleverly weaves scenes and songs around them, to create humour amongst the blood and gore.  From the frankly hilarious ode to the humble business card (Patrick Bateman is not impressed to meet a rival whose card is better than his), to the deliberately witty portrayal of Luis and his unrequited love for Patrick, there are plenty of giggles to be had.  Duncan Sheik's clever lyrics manage to both mock the characters and their shallow lives, whilst somehow making them more real and understandable.  The girls may be somewhat vacuous, but there is "nothing ironic about (their) love of Manolo Blahnik."

The score is relentlessly catchy - all 80's electro-pop, with classic songs from the era thrown in amongst original numbers.  If you're struggling to picture it, think of a typical 80's music video with a serial killer randomly placed amongst the shoulder pads and you probably won't be far off the mark.  The era has been perfectly captured through the music, as well as the costumes and the set.  Early on in the show, Matt's Patrick Bateman lovingly points out his top of the range Sony Walkman, which gets a big laugh from the modern audience, with their smart phones and mp3 players sitting snugly in their bags.

The story is excellently told through Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa's writing; the lines are sharp and witty.  The cast are clearly enjoying themselves on stage and why wouldn't they be?  The show is so cleverly put together that frankly, I wanted to join in.  Don't listen to Lizzie when she tells you I only wanted to be involved in the sex scenes...

Which brings me to Matt.  Aherm. 

I am well known for being a Matt fan girl.  I'm not even going to deny it.

This is the point at which I want to basically just go "OHMYGODHEISTHEBESTACTORINTHEWORLDANDHEISSOGORGEOUSANDHECANSING."  Instead, I will attempt to be slightly controlled...

Matt Smith is an incredible actor.  I knew this already (not only from Doctor Who) but this show proved it beyond all reasonable doubt.  Let's think about the character Matt was playing:  Patrick Bateman is a delusional, immoral, shallow individual who harbours murderous fantasies about his family and friends.  It's hard to like someone like that, at least at face value.  And yet Matt presented us with a version of Bateman that it was impossible not to feel something for.  He made him human.  Here was not simply a psychopath, but a rather frightened and deeply troubled individual who, for all his swagger and charm, had very little real confidence in himself and found that the world in which he lived left him feeling empty and anxious.  It was impossible not to harbour a little sympathy for him.  

Matt's portrayal was in a class of its own.  There were several layers to his Patrick Bateman - not an easy task, when the character seems, on the face of it, incredibly shallow.  Not only was Matt cold and calculating when he needed to be, but his delivery of the wittier lines was spot on; he could make me laugh one second and have me wanting to hide behind a cushion the next (maybe that's the Whovian in me).  

I may be biased, but this fan girl was thrilled with what she saw.  But in truth, the whole show was excellent.  I can't praise it highly enough.  It's a testament to it that my analysis at the end was: "I'd love to see that again; even if Matt wasn't in it."

So if - WHEN - this fabulous visual feast transfers to the West End, I implore you to buy a ticket.  Otherwise I'll have to cut you into tiny pieces and hide you in a bath tub...

Oh and to answer the question you may have in your heads...  No, I didn't get to meet Matt Smith.  I know.  I was gutted too.  But he did wave at me and smile and it was enough to make my day.  Thanks Matt.  :-)

My Not So Guilty Pleasure...

Everyone has a guilty pleasure. You might secretly know the dance to Everybody (Backstreets Back) by 90's boyband The Backstreet Boys and find yourself completely unable to resist breaking into it, should you hear the song (which you frequently do, because it's on a Best of The Backstreet Boys album, which you regularly play on long car journeys...). You may have developed a taste for sticking two extra buttery shortbread biscuits together with a copious amount of Nutella and scoffing the lot before anyone sees. Or perhaps whenever you put on a hair band, you secretly want to wear it across your forehead and pretend to be Alana from the popular early 90's children's series, The Girl From Tomorrow.

Shut up, it was cool.

You may have guessed by now that all of the above are just a few of my guilty pleasures. It turns out some of us have more than one...

But I have one pleasure in my life that I refuse to refer to in such terms. A pleasure that some would term cheesy. Some would call "twee."

I, Emma Tofi, aged 29 (and refusing to acknowledge her 30th birthday creeping towards her like a pantomime villain), am obsessed - yes, obsessed - with musicals.

And I mean this warning quite seriously...

My love of any film or show in which people randomly burst into song (and everyone around them suddenly discovers that they know all the words, harmonies and dance moves in spite of this being an "off-the-cuff" moment of spontaneity), started early on. As a little girl, I'd listen to my mum, humming tunes from classics such as The King And I or West Side Story as she cooked dinner or got on with housework. On drizzly days, when it was too cold to play outside, she'd put on The Sound of Music or Mary Poppins and we'd sit together, singing along and being filled with the kind of genuine warmth you normally only experience if you do something really lovely for another human. Or you wet yourself. So I'm told.

I was also lucky in that I had grandparents who lived on the outskirts of London - Morden, to be precise - and a trip to see a pantomime became an annual treat for me, my sister and my cousins. There was something magical about watching people on stage, singing and dancing as they told a story. The music and the movement seemed to make everything bigger and more special. I was totally and utterly hooked.

So much so, that by the time I was 11 or 12, I had made the decision that I wanted to be in musicals. I wanted to go to theatre school, I wanted to sing on a stage... I wanted to be a part of that incredible world I had glimpsed through films and theatre trips. Where a song could make everything better. Where good news could be celebrated by dancing through the streets, without people looking at you like you're mad (believe me I've tried, but in real life, a conga through ASDA just isn't going to happen).

Although I'm clearly shopping at the wrong branch...

Unfortunately however, this was also the age at which I began to be bullied at school (if you scroll down through my old blog entries, you'll find out more about that). I lost all of my confidence. Suddenly the bright, shiny world of musicals was replaced by a dark, lonely place. There was no way I could face the thought of auditioning in front of someone. I didn't think I was talented enough. I didn't think I was pretty enough.

Interestingly, although my early teen years were the years in which I realised I was going to miss my chance to join the magical world of musicals, it was also the point in my life during which I realised more than ever that the camp, cheesiness that many believe defines musical theatre, masks a much deeper, darker side. At the age of 15, I went on a school trip to London, to see a musical called Blood Brothers. Although by that age I'd already realised, thanks to the likes of Carousel, The King & I and West Side Story, that musicals could - and often do - feature death and sadness, I had no idea just how gritty they could be.

Blood Brothers tells the story of a mother of seven, pregnant with her eighth child. Her husband has recently left her and she's struggling to cope. Having visited the doctor for routine tests, she's shocked to discover she's expecting twins. Upon delivering this news to her employer, a wealthy, married woman whose home she cleans, she's stunned when an offer is made: The wealthier woman - Mrs Lyons - is desperate for a child, but has been unable to get pregnant. Her husband is away for a long period of time and she suggests that perhaps the poorer woman - Mrs Johnstone - will give one of the twins to her, so that she might raise him as her own. She offers a great deal of money and Mrs Johnstone reluctantly accepts. Mrs Lyons insists that the twins must be raised entirely separately, never discovering that they are, in fact, brothers. "You won't say anything about this Mrs Johnstone," she warns. "Because if you do, you will KILL them!"

That show changed my view of musicals enormously. Suddenly, not only were they bright, dazzling and uplifting. They were emotional. They felt real. Blood Brothers still managed to offer escapism and even featured some cheerful tunes and laughter along the way. But the story was still deeply moving. The characters felt genuine, rather than being overly chirpy, slightly two-dimensional people who just happened to burst into song now and again.

In fact, it was Blood Brothers (and later on, the fantastic Les Miserables), that made me realise that musical theatre (and film musicals), never had to be a guilty pleasure. They were simply a pleasure. Full stop. No guilt involved.

From that moment on, I embraced musicals even more fervently than before. I've now seen several big West End shows (Joseph & The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat and The Sound of Music to name just two) and a Broadway smash, too (Phantom of The Opera). I don't care whether it's a comedy, with silly lyrics and bouncy tunes, like The Producers, something based on factual events, like Evita, or something purely frivolous like Mamma Mia! The fact is, if it's a show with songs in it, I'm at least going to show some interest. In fact, the only two musicals I can think of that I would point blank refuse to see are Cats (because Memory is the song we played at my Nan's funeral and I'd find it far too hard going) and Chess (because I actually went to see that with an ex of a sort, who turned out to be a rather manipulative individual who hurt me terribly badly - I Know Him So Well would probably send me into some sort of breakdown...).

Lets face it - if you switch on the news, you're faced with images of floods, famine, recession and war. I find it amazing that not only can you escape all of that through a bit of "razzamataz," singing and dancing that leaves you feeling cheerful, but that musicals can tackle some of the darker aspects of life, such as war & revolution (Miss Saigon and Les Miserables to name just two) and cause you think about things that can be distressing, yet still they leave you feeling ultimately uplifted.

Yeah, so er... They're dead, but ULTIMATELY it's uplifting. Honest.

I have no guilt when I sing Fabulous Baby from Sister Act, to cheer myself up when I'm having a bad day. I have no guilt at being able to name all of the Von Trapp children from The Sound of Music. I have no shame when I weep and howl at the end of Les Miserables (seriously, we're talking snot, tears, the works).

Musicals put a smile on your face, a song in your heart and a tear in your eye. And you know what? I love it!

And on that note, I shall go off and grab myself some lunch. All together now: Food, glorious fooooood...."