★★★

“The whole thing ambles along like a Wolseley 6/90 – reliable, well-upholstered and stately in its way”

To the surprise of a modern audience, the NHS in 1950 apparently afforded a patient a spacious room, a brace of sassy nurses, use of the good stationery and endless weeks of convalescence – all for a broken leg.

Admittedly, the broken leg is attached to a bona fide hero – Scotland Yard detective Alan Grant (Rob Pomfret) who is bothered, bored and self-pitying, having acquired the injury in a failed chase.

At 50, he is staring down the barrel of an enforced retirement. What he needs is a challenge to prove his worth.

It arrives in the form of a postcard of Richard III. Is he the villain of Shakespeare’s imaginings or is he the most wronged monarch in history? Grant begins gnawing on the 400-year-old mystery, dragging in acolytes and helpers who indulge him for reasons that are never entirely clear.

In the meantime, the audience of M Kilburg Reedy’s adaptation of Josephine Tey’s classic novel has their own set of challenges.

Firstly, the staging. The bed which contains our hero is right at the back of the stage. Pomfret does some great head-and-neck acting but there are obvious audibility and distance problems. This timorous cowering becomes so pronounced that the actors appear to have a Pavlovian aversion to entering the 12-foot buffer zone at the front where most other productions would do their best work.

Secondly, there’s a lot to remember. Such is the extent of the exposition, characters end up reading from textbooks, dropping in long speeches about Plantagenet politics (where others might discuss the weather or the cricket) and pinning pictures on boards that we, the audience, cannot see.

The programme comes with a family tree which – what? – we’re supposed to learn before the curtain rises? Cue chilling flashbacks to history exams with cold sweat trickling down collective spines and key dates written in biro on shirt cuffs.

Thirdly, all this takes time. So much time that if you were to see all the plots and subplots laid out as a menu – including some Shakespearean romantic fandango – you might dispense with the minor dishes and opt for the classic main course/dessert combo and get the thing done. But writer Reedy will insist on you seeing the product of her thinking as she tussles with evident problems of staging a history lecture.

All this is not to say director Jenny Eastop’s production is not ultimately enjoyable. Time eases the last two of these problems. In the second act the questions become more focussed – did Richard III usurp the throne, and did he kill the princes in the tower? – allowing for some graspable curiosity to arise. And the problem of length, while not entirely dissolved, becomes less obdurate because the actors are earnest in their commitment to the production and reside in settings and costumes (Bob Sterrett) which are sumptuous.

Rob Pomfret as Alan Grant is solid; Rachel Pickup injects glamour into lovelorn actress Marta Hallard, inexplicably besotted with the curmudgeonly Grant; Noah Huntley has fun with closeted stage darling Nigel Templeton; and Harrison Sharpe – the Shaggy of this Scooby Doo gang – is lithe limbed and kooky as amateur investigator Brent Carradine.

Elsewhere the ensemble is curiously well-briefed about English culture and history but disguise their learning with a straight-faced charm.

The whole thing ambles along like a Wolseley 6/90 – reliable, well-upholstered and stately in its way. If time is not an issue, be assured, you will arrive at your destination eventually.

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstring”

The first thing you notice about the new musical, “Stiletto”, is the opulence of Ceci Calf’s set. Dimly lit in the pre-show, it depicts not so much a Venetian palazzo but something more subterranean. You almost expect ripples of light, cast from the canal waters, to dapple from above. It is moody, portentous and atmospheric. The musical itself follows suit. Consistently soul-stirring, grandiose and lush, it looks and sounds exceptional. A balcony circles the stage behind its proscenium arch, like a minstrel’s gallery. In the shadows we can make out the silhouettes of the fifteen-piece orchestra. A cast of seventeen grace the stage, yet Chris Baldock’s musical staging never makes it appear crowded. From the opening dramatic bars of music, we know we are in for something grand. There is a danger that the show might take itself too seriously. A feeling, however, which soon dissipates under David Gilmore’s pacey and fresh direction.

We are in Venice in the early part of the eighteenth century. Marco Borroni (Jack Chambers) is on the cusp of stardom. He is a ‘castrato’, which means he was castrated before puberty to preserve his soprano voice. Apparently, the process not only keeps the vocals skills intact, but it also in no way diminishes his pleasure-giving prowess – as his siren-like patron, the Contessa Azurra (Kelly Hampson), seductively points out. Meanwhile Marco meets feisty Gioia (Jewelle Hutchinson), a slave’s daughter, in the market square. His lust is turned into sheer wonder when he hears her sing, and he vows to sweep her up from the gutter into his own impending rise to fame and fortune. Of course, there are snags. In this case an accidental death, an ensuing scapegoat bound for the hangman’s noose (i.e. Gioia – that’s no spoiler by the way), a corrupt judicial system, and the predictable battle between good and bad – the underdog and the powerful. Tim Luscombe’s book follows a formulaic narrative, but there is a quirkiness and modernism to the dialogue, much of which swings effortlessly in time to the musical preludes.

The plot may be a touch thin, but Matthew Wilder’s score is as ripe and succulent as they come. Wilder generously gives each major character a solo moment in the spotlight, but he also allows the full ensemble to shine throughout. This could almost be a sung-through musical and often has that feel – the underscore subtly echoing the songs. Simon Nathan’s orchestrations highlight the variations; from a quiet harp-accompanied ballad through to the full pageantry of sweeping ensemble numbers. There are many musical highlights and just as many performance highlights. Chambers, as Marco, has a natural flair, mixing innocence with passion, carnality with self-righteousness. And a voice to match – particularly when standing alone, closing the first act with a gorgeously delivered ‘The Wanting’, or lamenting the tragic figure of his tutor Faustino (a rich-toned Greg Barnett). Jennie Jacobs stands in as a masked mezzo soprano whenever Marco is called upon to demonstrate the ‘castrato’ voice. Kelly Hampson’s Contessa Azurra is a force to be reckoned with, standing up to her corrupt yet camp husband, Pietro (a wonderful Douglas Hansell). Hampson’s solo number, ‘Amore Mio’ has a bond-theme quality, but with more interesting time signatures and shifts in tone.

There are surprises, too. When Connor Wood, as the mute Niccolo, finds his voice at a crucial moment in the story we are quite taken aback by his singing voice during ‘No Words’; and Sam Barrett’s down-trodden Luigi blossoms as he turns saviour and vocal raconteur extraordinaire with his solo number ‘Go Along’. But the one to watch out for is Jewelle Hutchinson, stealing the show whenever she walks on stage as Gioia. Spirited and ballsy (ironic given her paramour’s deficiency in that department), Hutchinson lets Gioia’s vulnerability cut through as well. And all the while her rich, wide-ranged vocals pierce our hearts.

The performances bring a heightened energy to the stage that befits the setting and the storyline. Cementing the sense of period are Anna Kelsey’s glorious and flamboyant costumes. Passion is the key word for this show. And drama. Sometimes melodrama slips in which, if you’re not paying attention, can hide the flaws in the narrative. It does feel as though a trick or two is missed, and certain themes are underexplored while the finale comes a little too quickly and too forced. That frustration aside, this is a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstrings. Full of light and shade, musically as well as visually, it might not penetrate quite as deeply or cleanly as a stiletto, but it certainly gets under your skin.

THE DAUGHTER OF TIME

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★

“The whole thing ambles along like a Wolseley 6/90 – reliable, well-upholstered and stately in its way”

THE DAUGHTER OF TIME

Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 25th July 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Manuel Harlan

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

THE DAUGHTER OF TIME

THE DAUGHTER OF TIME

THE DAUGHTER OF TIME

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstring”

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 31st March 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

STILETTO

STILETTO

STILETTO

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