★★★★

“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 CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON at the Ambassadors Theatre

★★★★★

“every member of the ensemble cast is a vital cog in the intricate mechanism of this fine piece of theatre”

Five years ago, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” unveiled itself to little fanfare at Southwark Playhouse. Jethro Compton’s and Darren Clarke’s adaptation of F Scott Fitzgerald’s fantastical short story used just five actor-musicians to tell the tale in a chamber music fashion. I described it at the time as ‘a sensational piece of musical theatre’. I was not alone. Acoustic and intimate, the only way for it to go was to grow, until last year it replayed at the larger ‘Elephant’ at Southwark, with more cast, more instruments and much more of a marketing push behind it. I felt it had lost something of the original. Nevertheless, it’s course was pre-determined. As per one of its narrative leitmotifs: ‘Time and tide waits for no man’. It’s West End premiere, bigger and better still, has remarkably, and unquestionably, recaptured the sheer magic and emotional charm of its humble beginnings.

Fitzgerald was inspired to write the story, in 1922, by Mark Twain who lamented the fact that the best part of life came at the beginning and the worst part at the end. Fitzgerald, in an attempt to turn this idea on its head, discovered that youth and old age are mirrors of each other. A witty and insightful satire it tells the story of Benjamin Button who is born an old man and mysteriously begins ageing backwards. At the beginning of his life, he is withered and worn, but as he continues to grow younger, he embraces life, falls in love, goes to war, has children, and eventually, as his mind begins to devolve again, returns to the care of his nurses, and eventual oblivion. It is a fantasy. A dark fairy tale but one that is slightly clinical and lacking in pathos. The genius of this musical adaptation partly lies in how much it is transformed into a heart-wrenching love story. Liberties are taken with the original text, but entirely necessary ones.

We are no longer in the US seaport of Baltimore, but on the Cornish coast. Compton – not content with writing, directing and co-writing the lyrics, is also the creative force behind the set. Evocatively shambolic, it recreates the small fishing village. You can almost smell the salty sea air. With the crash of a wave, we are introduced to the characters that inhabit this backwater with a poetic lyricism that echoes Dylan Thomas; and a musical accompaniment that pulls us right into the heart of the story, stronger than the moon at the highest tide. The folksy, Celtic tunes have a musical theatre veneer but are delivered with sublime energy and virtuosity by the twelve strong cast, layered with Chi-San Howard’s expert and clockwork choreography. Swapping instruments like relay batons, they keep the score alive, guiding it through the haunting ballads right up to the soaring anthems. The thirteenth cast member, who never picks up an instrument (until the encore) stands apart. The oddball. The title character – Benjamin Button. John Dagleish gives us a hangdog and tender portrayal that is also defiant and powerful. We are not long into the show when our hearts are already breaking. Rejected by his mother (beautifully and tragically portrayed by Philippa Hogg) there are shades of Kafka’s ‘Metamorphosis’ as Button is kept in the attic – a shameful secret. Hogg’s rendition of ‘The Kraken’s Lullaby’ leaves a lasting, tearful impression as she echoes the line ‘I pray you won’t wake from your sleep’.

Yet he continues to do so, for the next sixty-nine years. It is a miraculous backwards journey that extends beyond the curiosity of a life running in reverse. Time is a constant refrain, and woven into the fabric of time are the inextricable links, and twists of fate, that snowball into life-changing moments. He meets the important characters in his life twice. Notably ‘Little Jack’ (brilliantly played by Jack Quarton), a young fisherman whom Button befriends but later horrifies when he is young, and Jack is older. But it is Clare Foster’s Elowen who lights up the stage. The love of his life. Sassy and flirtatious in youth, heartbroken yet forgiving in love and vulnerably stoic in her tragic later years, her journey as she and Button travel in opposite directions is a masterstroke. When she sings ‘We have Time’, we can hear the crack of a thousand hearts throughout the auditorium.

Mark Aspinall’s musical direction and orchestration accentuate the dynamics, each crescendo and diminuendo highlighted by Luke Swaffield’s crisp sound design. While Zoe Spurr’s lighting guides us from night, back into day; from the moon to the sun and even into the depths of the sea. Each shade pinpointing each pivotal moment.

Just as every moment counts, every member of the ensemble cast is a vital cog in the intricate mechanism of this fine piece of theatre. The harmonies sweep us away leaving us slightly breathless. Yet the emotional punch doesn’t completely conceal the cleverness of Compton and Clarke’s interpretation. Relocating it to Cornwall is an inspired choice, as is shifting the narrative forward to take in most of the twentieth century. The shifting tides and man’s fascination with the moon play an important role, taking on a metaphorical and literal reality with the 1969 Moon landing. An event that confirms the protagonists’ belief that anything is possible. We get the sense that they don’t quite fully accept that optimism. And most of the time, neither do we. But the battered belief abides. And this show affirms it. From start to finish, it is a triumph. Or is that from finish to start?

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

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON at the Ambassadors Theatre

★★★★★

“every member of the ensemble cast is a vital cog in the intricate mechanism of this fine piece of theatre”