Tag Archives: Christopher Killik

MARIE CURIE – THE MUSICAL

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Charing Cross Theatre

MARIE CURIE – THE MUSICAL at Charing Cross Theatre

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“The music is the highlight, even though it often feels it belongs to another story.”

Marie Curie, nΓ©e Maria Salomea Sklodowska, is remembered for her discovery of radium and polonium (the latter named after her native Poland); and for her huge contribution to finding treatments for cancer. The latter is what she is generally celebrated for, along with the hospital and charity that bear her name. Less is probably known about her years of obsessive scientific research and the opposition and misogyny she faced while trying to get her name onto the periodic table. The science goes over most people’s heads, whereas the enduring image is of Marie, buttoned up to the neck in black, gazing unsmiling into the camera.

An unlikely subject for a musical. But composer Jongyoon Choi and librettist Seeun Choun obviously decided to give it a go. After making the finals of the β€˜Glocal Musical Live’ competition in Korea it secured funding and eventually premiered in Seoul in 2018. Apparently, Tom Ramsay’s English adaptation (with lyrics translated by Emma Fraser) marks the first time a Korean musical is staged in English.

There are elements to this musical that would have many a physicist scratching their head. Its essence is not instantly discoverable despite condensing Marie’s story into a one act musical. It concentrates on her relocation to Paris, charting her struggle to fit into a man’s world. The narrative follows her research and discoveries, the adverse and tragic effects of these discoveries and the subsequent battles against corporate baddies. The love interest is supplied by fellow scientist and husband, Pierre Curie, although it is a bit of a cold fusion. The passion is reserved for the chemical elements, with love songs titled β€˜Radium Paradise’ (parts one and two no less). In fact, the show could have been called β€˜Radium: The Musical’.

 

 

It opens at the end with Marie’s daughter, IrΓ¨ne (Lucy Young), reading her mother’s memoirs while Ailsa Davidson’s spectral, black-clad Marie watches. Davidson’s fine, pure voice sits well on the lush strings of the prologue as she guides the story back to the start. Rose Montgomery’s changeable set is with her every step of the way, from the train carriage as it pulls into Paris, to the laboratories and the factories. On the journey, Marie meets fellow Pole, Anne Kowalska (Chrissie Bhima), a lowly factory worker who later becomes the voice of justice and moral reasoning. It takes a while to get there, though, with the bulk of the show comprising a song cycle leading up to Marie’s discovery of radium.

The tone darkens when the destructive side of radium manifests itself. Initially used as luminous paint for watches and clock dials, the painters were instructed to lick their brushes to give them a fine point. It didn’t take long for this practice to lead to a sharp peak in the death rate among the workers. Covered up as a syphilis outbreak (did they really think they could get away with that?), the factory boss (Richard Meek) finds himself at loggerheads with Marie.

It is refreshing to see the story focus on a relatively short time span rather than attempting to create an epic chronicle of the woman’s life. It lends a human touch, steering the piece away from docudrama. Marie’s later years and achievements are glossed over during the finale. We might not learn a great deal that we already didn’t know but instead we are joyously swept along by Jongyoon Choi’s sumptuous score, rich in violins, cellos and clarinet. The music is the highlight, even though it often feels it belongs to another story. Choi’s compositions are indeed stirring, yet the lyrics and subject matter don’t always echo the passion.

The passion, however, is undeniable in the performances, and we also come away with some pertinent reminders of the historical struggle of women with a society against them. But despite the beauty of the score, and Emma Fraser’s arrangements, there is a sense that this story belongs more to the spoken word.

 


MARIE CURIE – THE MUSICAL at Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 7th June 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Pamela Raith

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

BRONCO BILLY – THE MUSICAL | β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2024
SLEEPING BEAUTY TAKES A PRICK! | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2023
REBECCA | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2023
GEORGE TAKEI’S ALLEGIANCE | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2023
FROM HERE TO ETERNITY | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2022
THE MILK TRAIN DOESN’T STOP HERE ANYMORE | β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2022
RIDE | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2022
VANYA AND SONIA AND MASHA AND SPIKE | β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2021

MARIE CURIE

MARIE CURIE

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How to Build a Better Tulip

How to Build a Better Tulip

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Upstairs at the Gatehouse

HOW TO BUILD A BETTER TULIP at the Upstairs at the Gatehouse

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How to Build a Better Tulip

Only the performance by Beth Burrows holds the whole thing together

 

To set the theme for the evening, the song Tulips from Amsterdam provides the somewhat tongue-in-cheek auditorium entry music, followed by other songs evoking buttercups and roses. Perhaps there is no available pop song concerning petunias as that would have been the other relevant flowery reference for this amiable comedy written and directed by Mark R Giesser.

A minimalist drab-coloured set (Designer Mollie Cheek) predominantly represents a greenhouse at the University of South Holland (Lincolnshire) where plant genetics are being researched. Faded tulip designs on delft tiles give a hint of historic Dutchness. A broadsheet notice on the wall informs us that a monetary prize of ten thousand guilders should be awarded to any person who succeeds in the breeding of a perfect Black Tulip. And therein lies the basis of the plot, loosely based on Alexandre Dumas’s novel The Black Tulip, and making reference to the historical tulipomania of seventeenth century Holland.

Splashes of colour appear as university researcher Audrey Braddock (Jill Greenacre) in red corduroys and amanuensis Sheila Crouch (Bryony Tebbutt) with yellow bobblehat, frenetically enter. Tebbutt displays youthful exuberance in a deliberate and delightfully quirky manner. Greenacre’s speedy and breathy delivery means some dialogue is sadly lost in this opening scene. We are introduced to Braddock’s daughter Perci (Beth Burrows) whose latest boyfriend is petunia researcher Adrian Vanderpol (Christopher Killik) and then things turn strange. Alone in her room, Braddock begins to talk to a voice in her head – Carolus Hoofdorn (Richard Lynson) a seventeenth century Dutch tulip enthusiast. Vanderpol too communicates with the voice in his head – Cornelia Vanderpol (Tebbutt again). And when everyone appears on stage together, the two Dutch puritans are able to talk to each other too. Nice period costumes here (Giulia Scrimieri) for the historical Dutch, less convincing accents.

As it appears, Braddock and Vanderpol – driven by the two ghosts in their heads – are covertly endeavouring to create the elusive black tulip, espionage is undertaken, Perci is involved with the FBI and honey-research, Carolus sporadically breaks out into folksong, Cornelia inexplicably cannot abide the songs of Elvis, Vanderpol is arrested for environmental terrorism and tulip bulbs are identified as the next potential WMD. It’s all rather a muddle.

The character of Sergeant Ellsworth, managed stolidly enough by Lynson, sums up the difficulty of the play; he is given neither the insight of a probing detective nor the comedic possibilities of a bumbling village Plod. Only the performance by Beth Burrows holds the whole thing together. With energy and fine expression she appears to understand and believe in all the shenanigans and provides a central performance to savour.


Perci tells us at one point, β€œIt all sounds more complicated than it needs to be” and I could almost hear the audience reply, β€œhear hear”.

 

Reviewed on 8th November 2022

by Phillip Money

Photography by Flavia Fraser-Cannon

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Forever Plaid | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2021

 

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