“What really gets the blood flowing is the showmanship and the staging.”
One cannot fail to see the serendipitous irony of Newsies: The Musical’s UK premiere. The official website, in sepia tones of old newsprint, has the format of a daily rag. “Newsies Go On Strike! Read More” is the headline splashed across the homepage. Similar headlines dominate the front pages of the evening tabloids that litter the street corners as we make our way to the theatre, negotiating the travel chaos caused by the current strike action. If nothing else, the timing of “Newsies” is spot on.
The struggles of the protagonists; the issues of homelessness, exploitation, security, solidarity and capitalism are going to resonate strongly, even though the plot, based on historical fact, is over a century old. As the dawn of the twentieth century approaches, the ubiquitous bands of teenage newspaper sellers dream of a better life away from the hardship of the streets of New York City. These young men, and women, come together to fight the exploitation of the wealthy publishing tycoons who are callously hiking up the prices they pay for the papers they sell.
The realism is spot on. Morgan Large’s impressive scaffold set immerses us right into the heart of Manhattan. The grim fire escapes and sidewalks soon burst into the cacophonous chorus as the ‘Newsies’ come scampering from all corners of the auditorium to explode onto the stage in a glorious, rush hour frenzy. It seems they are celebrating their misfortunes. Indeed, lead player Jack Kelly (Michael Ahomka-Lindsay) is portrayed as having chosen his fate. Consequently Ahomka-Lindsay lacks the fire of the real life ‘Kid Blink’ on which the character is based. Kid Blink was not yet a teenager when he addressed over two thousand strikers to lead them in the battle against the publishers. Jack Kelly’s character replaces fire with charm and courage with charisma, throwing in a roving eye for the daughter of the enemy.
If the plot is sweetened somewhat (this is based on a Disney film after all), the execution is a sharp, exhilarating and sometimes overwhelming spectacle. Director Matt Cole’s choreography is both bombastic and balletic. Not always in tune with the subject matter, it nevertheless thrills us and coaxes us into repeated standing ovations – even before interval. The space is as wide as it is high and at one point the dancers even occupy the airspace during the stunning number “King of New York” at the opening of Act Two. The more plaintive ballads do not fare so well, with the lyrics occasionally getting lost in the cavernous auditorium. Likewise, the subtleties and subplots lose their way amidst the sheer, larger-than-life displays.
Bronté Barbé, as Katherine Plumber, a young reporter eager for a story, shadows Kelly in his fight for justice, spreading the word, assuaging his doubts and eventually becoming his ally. A touch two-dimensional to totally believe in the passion that spurs her on, Barbé has the requisite defiance to win us over. Newspaper tycoon, Joseph Pulitzer, is unavoidably a caricature but Cameron Blakely makes the best of the Scrooge-like bad guy turned good(ish). But it is clear that we are not required to dig deep into character or plot. That vein is thin. What really gets the blood flowing is the showmanship and the staging.
“Keep your eyes on the stars and your feet on the ground” is a piece of advice given to the strikers, “and you will win”. It’s no spoiler to reveal that they did indeed win. But these stunning triple-threat performers won our standing ovation too – even though they rarely kept their feet on the ground. They are the stars that we, the audience, keep our eyes on.
“The script feels very polished, and so packed with jokes and one-liners it can sometimes feel like the characters are being held at arm’s length”
The play opens from the point of view of a car crashing into a stag, quite a mean feat given that we’re watching Sons of the Prophet on Hampstead Theatre’s main stage. It gives us some inkling of the deft way director Bijan Sheibani will take this 11-year-old play by Stephen Karam and bring each line to life, directing but not smothering the actors, to deliver a pitch-perfect production.
Sons of the Prophet centres around the story of gay Lebanese-America Maronite Christian Joseph Douaihy (Irfan Shamji) who is trying to support his family in the wake of his father’s death. We meet his brother Charles (Eric Sirakian) and his uncle Bill (Raad Rawi) as Joseph lies in the hospital waiting for news from the doctor.
Karam writes the family’s dynamics perfectly. The bedside bickering is funny – this is a dark comedy after all – but it’s funny in an exhausting, claustrophobic way. Each family member repeatedly tells each other to stop talking, yet none of them do, and when Joseph puts his arm across his face the audience can feel the waves of stress emanating from him (all compounded by navigating the grim-sounding US healthcare system). Concurrently, Joseph must manage his Uncle Bill’s devout Marronite faith and optimism – “I’m saying be grateful, at least you have your health” – “I don’t have my health, we’re in a doctor’s office because my knees are radiating hot pain!”
Supporting characters propel the story forward as it hurtles towards an end with no resolutions, because that’s what happens to families like Douaihy’s in rural Pennsylvania. It transpires his dad’s car accident was caused by a star of Cedar Crest High School’s football team putting a fake stag in the middle of the road to see who would swerve to avoid it – we meet Vin (Raphael Akuwudike) as he attempts to apologise to the family with a terrible essay. The supporting cast, played by Holly Atkins and Sue Wallace (Physicians Assistant, Ticket Agent etc) are sublime, and both deserve a spin-off show for their extraordinarily well-brought-to-life characters. I would like to watch each of them on stage, for longer.
At points the stage feels like a 21st century Fawlty Towers, as Joseph tries to manage a revolving door of disastrous encounters and people (his horrific boss Gloria, played by Juliet Cowan, who makes everything about her), and news reporter/brief love interest Timothy (Jack Holden) who is desperate to break into the TV bigtime by exploiting the Douaihy family tragedy.
The script feels very polished, and so packed with jokes and one-liners it can sometimes feel like the characters are being held at arm’s length. The actors, with the exception of a few wavering American accents, fly with the lines. Any bumps lie entirely with the script, which feels extremely American, and an interesting choice for Hampstead Theatre in London 2022 (prompting the usual questions, why here, why now?) Perhaps it’s because it’s an omen of what life could become in Britain in the next 10 years under the wrong government hell-bent on privatising the NHS: a stark warning of the extra layers of stress and financial worry that will burden almost every family.
The set design (Samal Blak) is stark and unfussy, with a beautiful use of levels, which helps to tie in all the disparate family elements. Aline David’s movement direction introduces a sense of calmness at times during the show when it’s most necessary.
The play deals with the true sense of what it means to be human, as it revolves around the teachings of Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet (On Pain, On Passion, On Work, etc). Explicit instructions in the playtext recommend that each character at heart is human – “Gloria may say ridiculous things, but her mannerisms aren’t ridiculous.” Karam calls for the play to be staged in ‘explicitly human spaces’.
The calmness of the final scene, as Joseph meets his kindergarten teacher while he does physiotherapy, is most poignant, and provides respite from his life’s chaos. He confides in her that the last time he was happy was when he was aged four, and although the line is delivered as a joke, there’s a pause from the audience before we laugh, as we all reflect en-masse that life is hard, and at times it can feel like a rolling wheel of disasters.
The play is tight, well-written, superbly acted, and an easy 105 minutes (no interval!) watch. It lifts rather than shatters, and does it with serious humour and a whack of seriously good acting.
