FRENCH TOAST at Riverside Studios

★★★★

“It mocks pretty much everything about the industry, but it is also a heartfelt love letter to the theatre”

The French actor, director and writer, Jean Poiret, is best known for his 1973 “La Cage aux Folles”. He is perhaps less well known as a theatre and film actor before, making some forty motion pictures over three decades. You have to dig deep into his biography to come across the 1979 comedy. “Féfé de Broadway”. Writer Sam Alexander has obviously done so, and we can only thank him for that. His adaptation, that follows the backstage shenanigans of an ill-conceived musical, is a wonderfully light-hearted, eccentric and witty hour-and-a-half of escapism – now titled “French Toast”. There are going to be obvious comparisons to Michael Frayn’s “Noises Off” which was conceived around the same time this side of the English Channel. There are contrasts too. Alexander’s take on Poiret’s story (co-adapted with director Marianne Badrichani) draws a lot from the culture clash between the French ‘glamour’ and the British ‘eccentricity’. “French Toast” is indeed guilty of cramming itself full of stereotypes and caricatures, but the audience are willing victims of the crime.

Set in 1977, it focuses on French diva, Jacqueline Brémont (Edith Vernes). Rich and successful in her native Paris, she has decided to branch out and conquer London’s West End but instead lands up in Basingstoke. Old flame Simon Monk (Ché Walker) is directing an ill-fated musical adaptation of Jean Racine’s ‘Phèdre’. He has no intention of casting Jacqueline in the lead role – she can’t sing and dance to save her life. But money talks. Without her there’s no investment. What ensues is a farcical entanglement of egos during a hilarious stop-start rehearsal process. Clichés are pulled out of the hat like a manic conjuror on speed, but so are many moments of wit, humour, quirkiness and sharp comic observation that bring a huge smile to our faces. It mocks pretty much everything about the industry, but it is also a heartfelt love letter to the theatre.

You need to be exceptionally good to convince at being a bad actor. And this company have the collective talent to ham it up to the histrionic hilt. Ché Walker brilliantly encompasses the authoritarian director who has suddenly lost all control. The show is being cast behind his back. Walker’s stunned expression on day one of rehearsals is an image that will imprint itself on the mind for a long time. But to shake things up a bit, Simon Monk enrols punk musician Nicky Butler. Monk thinks of himself as a bit of a ‘right-on’ radical. Reece Richardson gives a star turn as the bewildered muso caught up in a thespian nightmare. Love interest comes via Suzy Kohane’s stylish yet earnestly ‘New Age’ Kate Freeman. Kohane’s is a standout performance, particularly when she sidesteps Paul Hegarty’s vividly accurate, camp yet lecherous Etienne Grémine. We are reminded that the seventies were ‘different times, darling!’ but a modern sensitivity is layered onto the narrative without detracting from the authentically period setting.

There is some doubling up of the roles. Josie Benson shines as budding actress Faye Rose but also a delicious Madame Bouffard, the diva’s dour dresser. The whole company is having so much fun, and Edith Vernes is no exception as the central figure Jacqueline. Despite a slightly clunky opening few moments, the show swiftly warms up. Touches of Alan Bennett’s ‘Habeas Corpus’ take the style dangerously close to farce, as trousers start to go missing, but other influences pull it back. The mayhem of ‘The Young Ones’ is visible through rays of ‘Morecambe and Wise’. Tara Young’s choreography is spot on with her playful nods to Fosse while Sammy Dowson’s costumes let us know exactly which year, if not month, of the seventies we are in.

Crucial to the piece is Leo Elso’s music. The lush escapism of disco locks horns with the raw energy of punk. Like the text, it parodies and cherishes at the same time with an authenticity that pinpoints the era in which The Village People and Abba could share the world’s stage with The Clash and The Sex Pistols. The culture shocks resonate throughout, up until the upbeat finale in which virtuosity and humour make a perfect marriage.

The play is peopled by people from different backgrounds, yet the comedy of misunderstandings ultimately leads to unexpected reconciliations and a feelgood factor that tips the scales. Like it’s culinary counterpart, “French Toast” is crisp on the outside but fluffy and tender on the inside. At times a little bit eggy, but delicious. A toast can definitely be raised – in French or in English.