Tag Archives: David Shields

CLOSER TO HEAVEN

β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…

Turbine Theatre

CLOSER TO HEAVEN at the Turbine Theatre

β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…

“unashamed fun, energised performances and a true, light-hearted celebration of decadence”

Nearly a quarter of a century on from its premiere at The Arts Theatre, Jonathan Harvey’s β€œCloser to Heaven”, with music from the Pet Shop Boys, is having another stab at getting closer to its goal. Although we’re still not quite sure what that is. So, for the time being it is best to take it at its superficial face value and plump for the sheer entertainment value it provides. It has that in abundance. Simon Hardwick’s revival splashes it over the gossamer-thin text in sexy swathes of flamboyance and camp panache. Designer David Shields has transformed the Turbine Theatre’s space into Vic’s club (surely soon to become a landmark as celebrated as β€˜Rick’s Café’), complete with cabaret tables, haze, ultraviolet neon and dancing boys. We are closer to Heaven – the nightclub – than ever before.

Mistress of ceremonies is Billie Trix; a washed-up former icon, afraid to look in the mirror. Although we don’t quite understand why – Frances Ruffelle looks pretty damn good, and sounds sensational when she sings. The purity and emotion shines through, particularly in her solo numbers such as the evocative β€˜Friendly Fire’ that opens the second act. She loses a touch of her command when she dips into dialogue, with a voice ravaged by years of abuse and an accent that has clearly lost its way. The owner of the club has a similarly tenuous hold on the proceedings. Filled with as many regrets, Kurt Kansley’s Vic is a bruiser with a heart of gold; a gay man trapped in a divorced father’s body, trying to make amends with a daughter who yearns for somebody to call Dad. His estranged daughter, Shell, is remarkably familiar with Vic’s entourage for someone who has just walked into his life after fifteen years, but we can overlook these discrepancies. Courtney Bowman’s standout performance lifts her character from the shallow text like the pages of a technicolour pop-up book that fold out into three dimensions.

 

 

A love story trickles away as a sub plot. Shell falls for newcomer Dave (Glenn Adamson). Or rather β€˜Straight Dave’ as he is known – a nickname that is plainly in breach of the Sale of Goods Act. Dave falls for local drug dealer, Mile End Lee (Connor Carson). A sticky end all round is unavoidable. Adamson’s Dave is a wannabe singer and dancer whose integrity is as ill-fitting as a tight pair of shorts, while Carson’s angelic looks fail to betray any notion of his lifestyle. Of course, they β€˜get it on’, to the chagrin of Shell, but the sparks don’t quite fly. And the repercussions trigger shoulder-shrugs rather than shockwaves of emotion.

There are moments of humour, with choice one-liners shared among the cast. David Muscat’s slippery music mogul, Bob Saunders, devours the clichΓ©s with relish and it’s difficult to tell whether he is choking on the words or his tongue in his cheek. But the whole company are having a ball. Especially Ruffelle, whose gleeful, natural exuberance shines brighter, warmer and more dazzling than the cool neon and swinging LED beams of light.

The music is everything you would expect of the Pet Shop Boys, but with more theatricality and a refreshing dynamic that is absent from their chart toppers. The score carries the show, along with the impeccable vocal performances. It is a beautifully dressed show, and slickly choreographed by Christopher Tendai. The ensemble are as integral as the leads, and just as watchable. If the performers are the stars, the costumes are the superstars.

We feel uplifted by the time we reach curtain call, which is surprising given the schmaltzy, message-heavy finale that wants to pull us under like a bed of quicksand. Yet we feel high. Not quite as high as the ketamine-fuelled characters onstage, mind, but at least we’ve remained this side of the law. Vic’s club is a place we’d like to frequent when looking for unashamed fun, energised performances and a true, light-hearted celebration of decadence. Well worth getting close to.

 


CLOSER TO HEAVEN at the Turbine Theatre

Reviewed on 5th June 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Senior

 

 


 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

RITA LYNN | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2024
WRECKAGE | β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2023
DIVA: LIVE FROM HELL | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2022
MY NIGHT WITH REG | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2021
MY SON’S A QUEER BUT WHAT CAN YOU DO | β˜…β˜…β˜…Β½ | June 2021

CLOSER TO HEAVEN

CLOSER TO HEAVEN

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page

 

THE TAILOR-MADE MAN

β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…

Stage Door Theatre

THE TAILOR-MADE MAN at the Stage Door Theatre

β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…

“Pilcher magnificently captures Haines’ free spirit and rebelliousness”

In 1930, William Haines was listed as the top box-office attraction in Hollywood. Just three years later, however, having made the successful transition to β€˜talkies’, Haines’ contract was torn up by studio chief at MGM – Louis B. Mayer – and he was thrown out of the studio. Haines had lived the Bohemian lifestyle of Tinseltown, relying on the studio β€˜fixers’ and his PR men to buy the silence of the press. When that eventually failed, the studio bosses sought to silence Haines instead. Almost overnight his name was removed from history and all his movies were withdrawn and locked in a vault where they stayed, unseen, for over sixty years. Why?

Claudio Macor’s play, β€œThe Tailor-Made Man”, charts his story. In today’s society it is unthinkable that Haines was treated the way he was, although there are sadly still remnants of the hypocrisy and double standards that litter the cutting room floors of Hollywood. Haines was openly gay (a dangerous thing to be one hundred years ago) and living with his lifelong partner Jimmie Shields. He refused to bow to the demands of Louis B. Mayer and give Shields up to marry the silent screen vamp Pola Negri, and he paid for it with his career.

Although that is the focus of the story, Macor places it within the wider context of Hollywood in the late twenties and early thirties, throwing light too on some of the more colourful characters that populated that world. In rose-tinted hindsight it is seen as a Golden Age, but Macor’s astute observations unveil the cruel mechanics beneath its glossy, silver-screened veneer. We first see Haines introduced to MGM having been spotted in a talent contest. A mannequin in the eyes of Mayer, naked, blank and ripe to be tailor-made into the next matinee idol. Hugo Pilcher, however, plays him as no dummy. Although initially wide eyed, Pilcher magnificently captures Haines’ free spirit and rebelliousness. Uninhibited and frank, he fearlessly does what he pleases, which is a blessing and a curse. Not always a sympathetic character, his circumstances and Pilcher’s portrayal ensure that we root for him to the end.

 

 

With him to the end is Jimmie Shields. Gwithian Evans successfully conveys the bond that keep them together. It is often stretched to breaking point, but Shields always manages to prevent it snapping. Evans shows us the deep frustration but also the devotion and loyalty that is strong enough to bear the Californian heat. Intermittently breaking out of character, Evans uses the transitions to narrate key elements of the story. Split into distinct chapters, the locations and context are beamed onto the back wall like silent movie captions. With Robert McWhir’s uncluttered direction, the story is as clear cut as the finest crystal champagne glass.

Dereck Walker’s depiction of a monstrous, homophobic Louis B. Mayer verges on caricature until we are struck by the frightening realisation that Walker’s interpretation might not be far from the truth at all. An imposing stage presence, that is matched by Peter Rae’s jittery PR guy – Howard Strickling. Sympathetic but obsequious his thankless task is to please everybody. And you know what happens when you do that. Rae, without any need for a physical makeover or visible costume change, brilliantly doubles as Hollywood hack, Victor Darrow, who yearns for the rain-drenched culture of English theatre, but cannot tear himself from the sun, and the sweaty sexuality of Haines and Shields that he likes to bathe in just as much.

The performances, and the writing, draw us into the fascinating story, made more poignant by the fact that this is a true story. But Macor never lets it get too serious. Shelley Rivers is a sunny delight as Marion Davies, even though probably the least researched character, but then again there isn’t the time or space to delve into Davies’ colourful and multi-faceted life. Olivia Ruggiero displays great versatility, as Mayer’s flirtatious secretary, but more significantly lampooning the great Pola Negri, yet still managing to inject a sadness into the character while she draws laughs from the audience.

This is a concise telling of an important slice of movie history. It focuses on some severe injustices, but the lens pans out to reveal a panorama. Evans slips back into narrator mode to deliver an epilogue that reinstates a sense of hope and survival. That to be yourself is, ultimately, a triumph. Similarly, this revival, in the recently opened Stage Door Theatre, above a Covent Garden pub, is also a triumph.


THE TAILOR-MADE MAN at the Stage Door Theatre

Reviewed on 16th May 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Peter Davies

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

MARRY ME A LITTLE | β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2024

THE TAILOR-MADE MAN

THE TAILOR-MADE MAN

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page