★★★★

“The music and dance are the highlights, stylishly adding extra layers of the story onto the dialogue”

Lerner and Loewe’s “Brigadoon” hasn’t been performed in London for over thirty-five years, and the word, from some quarters, seems to be that there must be a reason for this. In short, though, Drew McOnie’s magical interpretation at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre is a strong counterargument as to why it is definitely high time for a revival. Adapted and (kind of) updated by Rona Munro it almost makes sense of its impossibly whimsical narrative but, and goes along with it, creating an enchanting mix of music, dance and drama. We are swept up into the fantasy of it all, which in itself is quite a feat. It is the sort of plot that, if closely analysed, the holes picked in it would cause it to collapse completely.

The echoing sound of a big drum kicks off the evening, followed by haunting bagpipes. Basia Bińkowska’s multi-levelled, lush and heather-wrapped set merges into the park’s natural background. Two American fighter pilots appear over the brow of the hill. The romantically inclined Tommy (Louis Gaunt) is wounded while the more down-to-earth Jeff (Cavan Clarke) is rather unsuccessfully trying to get their bearings. They have literally dropped out of the sky and according to their map they appear to be nowhere. From this ‘nowhere’, however, the village of Brigadoon appears out of… well… nowhere. We have no alternate but to suspend our disbelief – the effect is quite intoxicating as we are surrounded by the glorious harmonies of the villagers. McOnie’s choreography is beautifully balletic, yet it somehow belongs to the world of Scottish reels and bagpipes too.

Brigadoon only exists for one day every one hundred years, thanks to a divine spell cast by the local minister two hundred years previously to protect it from the outside world. The townsfolk are forbidden to leave, otherwise the village would disappear forever. An outsider can only stay if they fall in love with a local, so strongly enough that they are prepared to give up everything for their love; ‘…after all, laddie, if ye love someone deeply, anythin’ is possible!’. The pilots spend pretty much all of act one unaware of this phenomenon, but when they discover it, have quite different reactions. This is very much a fairy tale, but also a love story burning away at its heart, with enough shades of darkness to prevent it from being too honey dewed.

The music and dance are the highlights, stylishly adding extra layers of the story onto the dialogue. Occasionally the movement is extraneous but always spectacular, held together by musical director Laura Bangay’s twelve-piece orchestra that mixes the traditional with the contemporary. The ensemble is just as vital as the lead players who generously never pull focus from the energy that floods the stage. Gaunt’s performance is quite believable (even if his story isn’t) in his depiction of an unwavering belief in love, that is also prone to moments of self-doubt, while Clarke’s pragmatic Jeff challenges but also accommodates his co-pilots idiosyncrasies, culminating in a deeply moving finale. The excellent Georgina Onuorah gives intensity and grace to Tommy’s love interest Fiona, while Nic Myers’ flirty Meg teases with, and confuses, Jeff with uncertain sex appeal. Jasmine Jules Andrews and Gilli Jones, as the newlyweds Jean and Charlie, are an enchanting couple. Danny Nattrass, as the tragic, lovesick Harry, matches an agile personality with a true talent for dance. Like the entire cast, the movement clearly defines the emotions and intentions of the characters.

All set against Jessica Hung Han Yun’s mystically atmospheric lighting, the evening is a delight throughout. The sumptuous score is at once familiar, yet fresh, with favourites such as ‘Almost Like Being in Love’, ‘The Love of My Life’ and ‘There but for You Go I’ sealing the message. It is a glorious tribute to the power of love. Like the unwitting co-pilots who wander into Brigadoon, we cannot fail to be moved and entertained by this production. It is unashamed escapism, but once we’re hooked, we don’t want to escape it.

SHUCKED

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

★★★★★

“The fun factor is dolloped on as thick as melted butter on crispy corn on the cob”

You can imagine exactly whereabouts in the United States Cob County (the fictional location for the musical comedy “Shucked”) would lie. Somewhere on the border of Arkansas and Oklahoma, where the corn is as high as an elephant’s eye, and the town-folk, dressed like raggedy scarecrows, can’t see beyond the wall of maize that shields the outside world. ‘People don’t leave Cob County’, we are told. Well, hey, if I found myself there, I’d never want to leave either judging by the sheer joy even just two hours in their company can give.

Regents Park Open Air Theatre is the perfect backdrop for this real gem of a musical. A score of catchy tunes; a Prairie-sized dose of charm and compassion; a wagonload of amazeballs song and dance and the corniest jokes you dare to imagine, all roll into town, via Broadway, to give us a night we’re going to remember for quite some time. Robert Horn’s book openly celebrates its own richly flavoured cheesiness by packing it full of puns and punchlines, while Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally’s country-tinged music and lyrics keeps the smile firmly on our faces with their mix of foot-tapping, bluesy reels and soul-stirring ballads. This formula really shouldn’t work. The story is preposterous, the final message unbelievably schmaltzy and some of the jokes as old as the American Outback; yet we are ‘shucked’ into loving it (a hasty qualification needed here – some of the one-liners are, in fact, surprisingly audacious and shockingly risqué, and would mercifully go over the heads of the younger members of the audience).

We are introduced to the Midwestern community by way of Storyteller One and Storyteller Two; Monique Ashe-Palmer and Steven Webb respectively – a joyous pair whose comic timing and flair keep the narrative in check with a rancher’s whip-cracking skill. At the heart of the story is Maizy (Sophie McShera) whose wedding vows to Beau (Ben Joyce) are interrupted by the corn crop suddenly and mysteriously dying. An unsolved mystery – which, in fact, is just a mystery – Webb tells us. Maizy dares to venture beyond the county limits in order to find a solution to the crop failure. She winds up in Tampa, an exaggerated, greeting-card-type metropolis where she meets grifter Gordy (Matthew Seadon-Young), a corn doctor (of course). Gordy is in debt to some not-so-gangsterish gangsters, and he sees in Maizy an opportunity to do some good ole shucking and shake off his creditors. Maizy, on the rebound from breaking off with Beau, is lovestruck, and the two of them head back to Cob County. What follows is a messy mix of misdirected romance, deception, and a full-on, heart-on-sleeve parable about the strength of community, family and belonging, and the triumph of good over bad.

To put it simply, the cast is outstanding. McShera’s Maizy has a real sense of the comedy but layers it with a steely tenderness that refuses to suffer fools. And a voice to match. Joyce’s literal-minded Beau is a delight, seeing the world in black and white but colouring it in with splashes of charisma and slapstick empathy. And a voice to match. His side kick and brother, Peanut – played by the terrific Keith Ramsay – has the burden of the corny jokes but he carries them all with an ease, delivering them with a deadpan hilarity. Meanwhile, Maizy’s cousin, the whisky-brewing, sassy Lulu is a tour de force of a performance in the hands of Georgina Onuorah. And a voice to match (have I said that?). In fact, Onuorah’s voice soars above all else. Seadon-Young is slick as oil as the slippery Gordy wishing he was better at being bad, though his performance couldn’t be better if he tried. Director Jack O’Brien brings out the best in all of them, including the ensemble – highlighting Sarah O’Gleby’s inventive choreography which occasionally verges on the acrobatic – and some perilous use of barrels and planks.

The music worms its way into our ears and takes root. At once familiar in its mix of pop, musical theatre, country and some serious balladeering; but unique enough to sound fresh and lyrically holding its own against the onslaught of wordplay in the book. From the rousing opening number ‘Corn’, through the obligatory ballads (mostly given to McShera); Seadon-Young’s bluesy ‘Bad’ and Onuorah’s showstopping ‘Independently Owned’, the numbers are a delight. This isn’t high art, but the spirit (and the corn) is sky high. An elephant’s eye wouldn’t come close. The fun factor is dolloped on as thick as melted butter on crispy corn on the cob. If it’s possible, this musical is tastier even. Sweeter, cheesier and packed with joy. One taste and you’ll be wanting to go back for more.

BRIGADOON

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

★★★★

“The music and dance are the highlights, stylishly adding extra layers of the story onto the dialogue”

BRIGADOON

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

Reviewed on 12th August 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Senior

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

BRIGADOON

BRIGADOON

BRIGADOON</h3

SHUCKED

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

★★★★★

“The fun factor is dolloped on as thick as melted butter on crispy corn on the cob”

SHUCKED

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

Reviewed on 20th May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Pamela Raith

Previously reviewed at this venue:

SHUCKED

SHUCKED

SHUCKED

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