★★★★★

“The performances are uniformly superb, the skin of each character ripped open by the flaming crossbow of passion”

A major comet is visible from earth on average every five to ten years, while a great comet is visible every twenty to thirty years. Although the timescale may be contracted a little, a truly great show appears every once in a while, that forces people to look up and take note. “Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812” is one of the brightest examples of this phenomenon. Directed by Tim Sheader, Dave Malloy’s searing sung-through musical will scorch itself into our memories for a long time to come.

Malloy has taken a seventy-page segment from Leo Tolstoy’s ‘War and Peace’ and moulded it into a passionate, original musical that interweaves the fates of the two protagonists: the story of Natasha’s downfall and Pierre’s awakening. A tale of despair and of hope. Surrounded by a colourful array of characters, it could be a convoluted affair, but Malloy’s libretto clarifies the narrative with mischievous simplicity and imaginative ingenuity. We are propelled into the story by way of the ‘Prologue’; playfully executed like a cross between a memory game and an introductory meeting for a covert club. A few melodious words from each, between the repeated refrain that one of its members is absent. ‘Andrey isn’t here’. Andrey is off fighting in the Napoleonic Wars. His fiancé is here though. The beautiful Countess Natasha, tossed into the centre of the space – a smouldering comet on her journey from gleeful, betrothed ingenue to tragic heroine.

Chumisa Dornford-May grabs the roller-coaster ride of Natasha’s role with complete abandon and commitment. Her songs of innocence capsized by harsh experience. All around her is seduction. The hunters and the hunted; cuckolds and adulterers. In Moscow, waiting for the return of her fiancé, Natasha falls in love with the casually dismissive yet alluringly sexy Anatole (Jamie Muscato in gorgeous, rock-star, swaggering form). Anatole’s sister, Hélène, is delighted by the illicit affair. After all, it is de rigueur. She herself has made a cuckold of her husband – the deeply unhappy Pierre. Cat Simmons’ manipulative Hélène is sultry and sexy yet encased in ice, while Declan Bennett’s Pierre is dishevelled in appearance and self-esteem, yet the heat from his growing awareness can warm the hardest heart.

The performances are uniformly superb, the skin of each character ripped open by the flaming crossbow of passion. We want to know what is going to happen but at the same time want to stay in each moment for as long as possible. Malloy’s score (which he also orchestrated for the ten-piece band) is impossibly eclectic and wonderfully fearless. A mix of folk, anarcho-punk, techno, baroque, chamber and New Wave. One moment heartbreaking ballads, the next storms of dramatic scales and diminished sevenths. The musical numbers are bolstered by the ensemble – one minute a celestial choir, the next a band of whirling dervishes at a rave. The musicians have no break, and just when you think you’ve reached a musical highlight, another appears on the horizon. And the singing is extraordinary – both in virtuosity and emotion. Bennett’s solo number ‘Dust and Ashes’ sweeps us away one moment; then Dornford-May lures us back in with the heartfelt ‘No One Else’. Simmons’ smoky vocals bewitch during ‘Charming’. Maimuna Memon, as Natasha’s cousin Sonya who vainly tries to save her, beguiles with a hypnotic performance and mesmerising voice – her plaintive ‘Sonya Alone’ up there with the peaks of the set list.

Evie Gurney’s costumes are as lawless and rebellious as the score. Like a job lot stolen from the wardrobe of a New Romantic music video they scream sex, drugs and rock n roll. Period and modern, the design mirrors the entire production which defies time and place. We know we are in nineteenth century Moscow, but we could equally be in New York’s Studio 54 nightclub in the nineteen-seventies.

“Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812” is a trailblazing show. Against Leslie Travers’ harsh, minimalist backdrop it dazzles at every level. It is spectacular and heartrending, right up to its closing number. Sung quietly to the accompaniment of a simple piano motif, it rises like the great comet of 1812, into an imagined starry sky. It brings with it the promise of a new life. It’s not the end of the world after all. The exhilaration ripples through everybody in the room. A soaring success.

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

★★★★★

“an electrifying mix of tradition and tragedy, with the flashes of humour searing through it like bolts of lightning”

Towards the end of the first act of “Fiddler on the Roof”, the sun is gently sinking behind the trees of Regent’s Park and candlelight casts its quivering, magical glow across the stage. A lone fiddler plays the opening bars of the achingly beautiful wedding song, ‘Sunrise, Sunset’. When we reach the bittersweet and hypnotic strains of the chorus, it is as though the number was written for this very moment: for this one particular sunset shared by a thousand people beneath a clear, unifying sky. It is one of many instants that make Jordan Fein’s current staging of “Fiddler on the Roof” one to remember for a long time.

When Sholem Aleichem’s “Tevye’s Daughters: Collected Stories” was first published in Yiddish at the dawn of the twentieth century, he was praised for the naturalness of his characters’ speech and the accuracy of his portrayal of life in the Shtetels of Eastern Europe. His writings combined cheerfulness in the face of adversity with the tragedy of the fate of the societies and their traditions. He probably had no idea that it would one day spawn one of the most successful and highly acclaimed musicals. Revived many times over the half century since its premiere, never before has it reflected the true nature of Aleichem’s writing with such accuracy and sensitivity. The creative elements of Jordan Fein’s interpretation come together in an electrifying mix of tradition and tragedy, with the flashes of humour searing through it like bolts of lightning.

The story centres on Tevye (Adam Dannheisser), the milkman in the village of Anatevka who is trying to cling onto his Jewish traditions as the outside world encroaches upon his family’s and the villagers’ lives. Not only that, but he is also up against his rebellious and progressive daughters who question the conventions, shunning the idea of arranged marriages; choosing instead to marry for love. The highly charged yet affectionate subversiveness of his daughters, however, is nothing compared to the dark shadow of the Imperial Russian pogroms rapidly approaching.

Tom Scutt’s imaginative set looms large over the action. A wheatfield uprooted from the ground, wrenched upwards in an arc exposing the name of the village embossed deep into the earth like an indelible stamp. Times are changing but the heritage runs deep. Beneath the canopy the orchestra is visible, the ensemble cast rarely leave the stage and the leading players watch from the sidelines when not in their own scenes. The community spirit is captured before a word is spoken (or sung). Nick Lidster’s clear-cut sound lends fragility to the solo numbers alongside the power of the rousing choruses of the ensemble. Julia Cheng’s choreography conjures a series of grand tableaux, like fine art in real life animation – meticulous yet shapeshifting: the comedy of ‘The Dream’ drifting into a macabre nightmare, or the rousing joy of ‘The Wedding’ that sinks into sinister violence as the Tsar’s officers intrude.

Adam Dannheisser, as Tevye, shifts superbly between the darkness and the light. A dominant figure yet dominated by the women in his life, he brings out the inherent comedy in the script with a true glint in his eye. A standout performance, but one of many; including Lara Pulver, as his wife Golde who really pulls the strings, along with Liv Andrusier’s feisty Tzeitel and Georgia Bruce’s pocket-rocket portrayal of Hodel. These strings snap when it comes to Chava, whose desire for marriage outside the Jewish faith is a line Tevye will not cross. Hannah Bristow adds poignancy with some evocative clarinet playing, endowing her character with a significance almost as symbolic as the eponymous ‘fiddler’ (the virtuosic Raphael Papo).

The pulse of the piece is the score. Jerry Bock’s music and Sheldon Harnick’s lyrics have gained fame and familiarity over time, but the company inject fresh individuality into the songs. Full of imagery they range from intimate to anthemic, from the major to the minor, backed by the twelve-piece orchestra. The emotional impact of the music never fails to stab, and then soothe the heart, culminating in an aching finale that feels global yet is inseparable from its ethnic origins. This is musical theatre at its heartfelt best.

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NATASHA, PIERRE & THE GREAT COMET OF 1812

★★★★★

Donmar Warehouse

NATASHA, PIERRE & THE GREAT COMET OF 1812

Donmar Warehouse

★★★★★

“The performances are uniformly superb, the skin of each character ripped open by the flaming crossbow of passion”

NATASHA, PIERRE & THE GREAT COMET OF 1812

Donmar Warehouse

Reviewed on 17th December 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

SKELETON CREW | ★★★★ | July 2024

THE HUMAN BODY | ★★★ | February 2024

LOVE AND OTHER ACTS OF VIOLENCE | ★★★★ | October 2021

NATASHA

NATASHA

NATASHA

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FIDDLER ON THE ROOF

★★★★★

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

★★★★★

“an electrifying mix of tradition and tragedy, with the flashes of humour searing through it like bolts of lightning”