“a toe-tapping re-invention of the spirit of the era, interwoven with zippy and witty dialogue”
If, like me the music of the fifties is pretty much a closed book to you, but you’ve noticed the energy and appeal of classic numbers like ʽBlue Suede Shoes’ and ʽThat’ll be the Day’, then can I recommend a rocking show at the Watermill in Newbury which will really knock your socks off?
Dedicated fans of the music of the era should also go and see this compelling show, which is enthusiastically presented by a talented and vibrant young cast in the intimate and atmospheric old mill.
Described as ʽa story of teenage rebellion and the birth of a new musical era’, Teddy had its debut at the Southwark Playhouse in 2015 when it won Best New Musical at the Off West End Awards. It was written by Tristan Bernays with music by Dougal Irvine. In this fizzing revival, cast member Harrison White provides musical direction.
The show’s title refers both to the Teddy boys of the post-war era and to one of two central characters, who is named Teddy (George Parker). He and Molly Chesworth as Josie provide the dramatic focus for the piece, with the plot interweaving music and action provided by Andrew Gallo (drums), Freya Parks (bass guitar), Harrison White (lead guitar and keyboard) and Dylan Wood as the heart-throb vocalist Johnny Valentine.
The Teddy boys were Britain’s own response to American rock ʽn’ roll of the fifties. Their fashion style was inspired by a revival of Edwardian looks, and it was the Daily Express that first shortened the word Edwardian to Teddy.
But this show is more than just a nostalgia trip to the smoke-filled nightclubs and grim bomb sites of post-war London, with soundtrack to match. The music is a toe-tapping re-invention of the spirit of the era, interwoven with zippy and witty dialogue that has a real rhythmic poetry all of its own.
If Judy, the other name for the Teddy girls, was better known, ʽTeddy’ could almost be re-named after them, since it’s Molly Chesworth’s character that often takes centre stage. She and bassist Freya Parks have some witty riffs on the theme of women taking no nonsense from men.
An evocative split-level set-design by Max Dorey is complemented by moody lighting from Christopher Nairne. There’s a great dance number, and some brilliant music that will send you out humming. A great show not to miss.
Divorced. Beheaded. Died. Divorced. Beheaded. Survived. The story of Henry VIII’s wives is probably one of the most familiar parts of British history, having inspired countless movies, novels and TV adaptations. But I challenge anyone to find one as uplifting and empowering as Lucy Moss and Toby Marlow’s Six. A stunning ensemble piece, pitch perfect with its tongue firmly in a cheek. The cast are vocally impeccable, each performing with an individual charm and flair that blends flawlessly. The score is bright, fun and rockets along. It is very hard to stay in your seat as the urge to dance along stays with you after the curtain comes down. This is a bright, brash girls night with a pumping sound track. But there is a message in the madness and it lands full force thanks to the spirit and energy of the performers.
The story may be well known – Henry VIII a man who abandoned his faithful wife for a younger model, then bullied, bored and executed his way through 5 more, reshaping England along the way – but this show is not just about history. It’s about challenging women’s narratives and redefining the roles. These women have been cast as victims – even Parr who ‘survived’ Henry is rarely considered more than a footnote in his story. This show tackles that head on. The premise is simple – each wife gives their case to the audience to prove themselves the true Queen by proving that they suffered the most. But what we see is not a collection of sob stories, whinging and wallowing. These ladies kick arse, (literally in some cases), and the result is one of the most jubilant and energetic takes on the six I have ever seen.
Far from indulging in weakness, the show highlights the strength, humour and depth in these characters creating six well rounded and charismatic women for the modern day. And some of their problems don’t seem that far removed from 2018 – we even see the Tudor version of Tinder. The first three, perhaps the most familiar due to the controversy surrounding Anne, kick against the stereotypes. Far from the dutiful wife, Catherine of Aragon (Renée Lamb) has sass and attitude, blowing in a with a ballsy number that demands answers. Neither the scheming seductress or manipulated pawn, Anne Boleyn (Christina Modestou) is just a girl who wants to have fun with perhaps the most catchy number of the night, (I’ll confess to humming that one on the way home). And though earnest, Jane Seymour’s (Natalie Paris) ballad resonates with strength and power. There are no shy or shrinking violets on this stage.
Perhaps because they are so often overlooked elsewhere, it’s the second half that really holds some surprises. Had the crown really been up for grabs, my vote would have gone to Anne of Cleves (Genesis Lynea). With her hip hop anthem Queen of The Castle, the 4th queen is celebrated as the one who played the game and ultimately came out a winner, even if history has been unkind. But its not all innocent glee. Catherine Howard (Aimie Atkinson), performing an Arianna Grande style pop song with added bravado, has a heart wrenching moment of poignancy as she literally gets stuck in her own rhythm. Finally Catherine Parr (Izuka Hoyle) – the survivor. This is where the show really flips. Catherine’s song breaks the narrative and dares to offer a view on the character not coloured by Henry. She calls out the history books for relegating these women to the roles of wives, props in Henry VIII story. The final note of the show is not the six bickering over their role in a man’s story – it’s six women coming together to be seen as individuals and it had the whole audience cheering and clapping along.
Six is an exuberant and joyful musical treat – the perfect antidote to Black Monday and a great show to see in the new year.
