Tag Archives: 2024X

🎭 A TOP SHOW IN FEBRUARY 2024 🎭

JUST FOR ONE DAY

★★★★

Old Vic Theatre

JUST FOR ONE DAY at the Old Vic Theatre

★★★★

“high-energy, high-power, dynamic staging that pays tribute to what was possibly one of the greatest events in music history”

A decade before the Live Aid concert, David Bowie was holed up in a studio in West Berlin with a three-chord instrumental track ‘in the can’, as it were. But no lyrics. During a cigarette break he observed a young couple, by the Berlin wall, sharing a furtive kiss before going their separate ways. Inspiration struck, and ‘Heroes’ was born. He was almost certainly unaware of the anthem the song would evolve into, adopted by many causes – most famously Live Aid – as a signature tune; the lyrics eventually spawning the title for the Old Vic’s jukebox, nostalgia-fest of a musical. His estate was among the first to pitch in to give permission, so somebody must be doing something right.

In fact, a lot of people are doing a lot of things right. And according to the thousand plus jubilant crowd crammed into the Old Vic, the cast of “Just For One Day” can do no wrong. After two and a half hours it is nigh on impossible not to be swept along by the waves of enthusiasm that sway to the final crashing bars of ‘Let It Be’. The unintended pseudo-religious quality of McCartney’s lyrics matches the preachiness of the show’s final message, even if that message is the complete opposite of ‘letting it be’.

Writer John O’Farrell seems to have pre-empted the flak that present-day, tag-hungry sanctimony was going to throw his way, and he has dealt with the subject with good humour, even if it is as cheesy as it comes at times. But we’re revisiting the eighties after all – the decade that fashion forgot, and we hadn’t accelerated back to the future yet in our DeLoreans and shoulder pads, so let’s try and forgive the inanity of the book. Director Luke Sheppard helps us do just that with his high-energy, high-power, dynamic staging that pays tribute to what was possibly one of the greatest events in music history.

Whichever you look at it, the glossy razzmatazz is a glorious recreation of some wonderful music. But the stabs at analysis and commentary are way too simplistic. We are introduced to various individuals who stand up proclaiming ‘I was there’, while others proudly claim not to have been born yet as though their completely random date of birth gives them superiority. The generations clash and eventually come together. Of course they do. Elsewhere the earnestness is dispensed with entirely with stabs at humour – which is generally more successful and elicit some laugh out loud moments. Already larger than life characters (Sir Bob, Margaret Thatcher, Harvey Goldsmith, Charles and Diana, and innumerable musical icons) are given even larger life in a sort of ‘Spitting Image’ without the puppets scenario.

“Pangs of nostalgia reverberate in time to the kick drum while our own internal rhythms are swinging from bemusement to enjoyment in double time”

The music celebrity crème-de-la-crème of the 1980s is being represented on stage, and Sheppard has assembled the musical theatre crème-de-la-crème of the 2020s. Matthew Brind’s arrangements exceed the X Factor as we race through vast chunks of the set list from Wembley and Philadelphia. The further away the numbers stray from their original structure, the more moving they become; as highlighted by Abiona Omonua’s rendition of Dylan’s ‘Blowin’ In The Wind’ which powerfully transports us to the ravished plains of Ethiopia. Meanwhile Jack Shalloo, as a rakish Midge Ure, swoops through ‘Vienna’ with soaring glissandos. Danielle Steers, as Marsha – one of the Live Aid event’s organisers, is in unmistakably fine voice throughout; as is Jackie Clune, playing the now grown-up teenager who skipped her O’ Levels to grab a ticket for the concert. At the centre, inevitably, is the foul mouthed, ‘Saint Bob’. Craige Els swaps impersonation for a series of soundbites and witticisms that give him the more accurate title of ‘patron saint of the humble brag’. Writer O’Farrell’s comic flair is accentuated during Geldof’s surreally depicted standoffs with Margaret Thatcher (Julie Atherton on top form).

Gareth Owen’s sound is faultless. And bombastic enough to reduce the Old Vic’s stuccoed tiers and balconies to dust. But we don’t care – it’s like there is no roof to bring down anyway as we imagine we’re all waving our lighters under an azure, stadium sky. As we gaze around the auditorium, surveying the faces beaming with joy, it is hard to reconcile the fact that this musical (and the Live Aid event itself) comes with the inevitable flotsam of modernist accusations of ‘white saviourism’. Of course, Sir Bob Geldof has vehemently denied such allegations. One can sympathise with Geldof, and it is ultimately unfair and irrelevant to wave the neo racist flag at an event that occurred four decades ago. Yes, in hindsight the value of the gig can still be debated. But that is another discussion. “Just For One Day” doesn’t really want to go there, but the fact that it feels impelled to, feeds the narrative with half-hearted, perfunctory banality.

It is a divided show, in content and in structure. Act One deals with the build-up while Act Two covers the titular ‘One Day’ – in London and in Philadelphia. And that is where it truly comes alive. Pangs of nostalgia reverberate in time to the kick drum while our own internal rhythms are swinging from bemusement to enjoyment in double time. In the end the latter wins, and we leave the theatre on the upbeat. By the time we’re out, dancing in the streets, we have forgotten the duff notes, and we’re not just singing the songs but singing the praises of the singers too.

 


JUST FOR ONE DAY at the Old Vic Theatre

Reviewed on 16th February 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

A CHRISTMAS CAROL | ★★★★★ | November 2023
PYGMALION | ★★★★ | September 2023

JUST FOR ONE DAY

JUST FOR ONE DAY

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page

 

🎭 TOP DANCE SHOW 2024 🎭

NELKEN

★★★★★

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

NELKEN at Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★★★

“This revival of Nelken honours its roots, while embracing the experiences of a new generation of dancers”

Pina Bausch’s Nelken, created in 1982 for her company Tanztheater Wuppertal, was first performed at Sadler’s Wells in 2005. Nelken now returns for a triumphant revival under the direction of Boris Charmatz. From the extraordinary dance floor, covered with thousands of pink carnations—Nelken is the German word for carnations—to an eclectic yet entirely appropriate choice of modern and classical music to accompany the dancers, Pina Bausch’s iconic company captures the essence, once again, of what we have come to understand as “Tanztheater.”

What is “Tanztheater?” It’s an intriguing question. It’s described in the programme as “a form that blends dance and everyday movement” but what that description doesn’t cover is the complex layers of irony enfolded in every clash between dance and “everyday” movement. Tanztheater is part of Bausch’s response to the complicated times in which she grew up, to Germany’s own complicated history, and the self referential irony that is associated with that. Unsurprisingly, Bausch’s work is also drama—and a beautiful yet violent story is unfolding in Nelken. Over nearly two hours, everyone is engulfed in this tale of colliding encounters, including the audience.

Don’t come to Nelken expecting a conventional play, or even, for that matter, classical dance. Nelken is something else entirely. It begins with stunning images and peaceful moments as the dancers enter in beautifully designed dresses, regardless of gender, hopping about the carnations like a child’s idea of rabbits. It ends with utter exhaustion and anger. Yes, anger at the audience for making them go through all this. For every beautiful movement, or childlike moment of innocence, Nelken wrenches itself apart with violence. Men in dark suits with barking Alsatians enter this beautiful space, as well as sinister officials demanding passports. Women scream protests as dancers assault one another. Others enact, over and over again, dramatic falls off a table that advances across the stage like a battalion on a battlefield. It is exhausting to watch. Exhausting, but exhilarating. Where else could you see beautiful dancers perform moves with an ironic glance aimed straight at the audience? Or endlessly form and reform a “Nelken” line as they acknowledge not just the moves of classical dance, but turn those into sign language? This is the genius of Pina Bausch—to show us the power of movement growing from childlike beginnings among the beautiful carnations, and flowering into something adult—and dark. Nelken may be about love, but it is also about the things that turn love ugly.

Every dancer in the Tanztheater Wuppertal brings something uniquely themselves into Nelken. It is fascinating to watch individuals reveal themselves even as they perform as part of a company. Under Boris Charmatz’ direction, who now leads Tanztheater Wuppertal (Bausch died in 2009), the dancers continue to ask themselves questions that prompt such individual responses. This revival of Nelken honours its roots, while embracing the experiences of a new generation of dancers.

Sadler’s Wells has produced the work of the Tanztheater Wuppertal often, and have built a loyal following over the years. Last night’s performance of Nelken was sold out, unsurprisingly. Don’t let that put you off trying to get a ticket for their next visit, though. If you succeed, you’ll be delighted by the work of this extraordinary company.

 


NELKEN at Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviewed on 14th February 2024

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Oliver Look

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

LOVETRAIN2020 | ★★★★ | November 2023
ALVIN AILEY AMERICAN DANCE THEATER AT 65 | ★★★★★ | September 2023
DANCE ME | ★★★★★ | February 2023
BREAKIN’ CONVENTION 2021 | ★★★★★ | July 2021
WILD CARD | ★★★★ | June 2021
OVERFLOW | ★★★★★ | May 2021
REUNION | ★★★★★ | May 2021

NELKEN

NELKEN

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page