★★★★

“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.

STEREOPHONIC

Duke of York’s Theatre

★★★

“when it does come together, the result is musical magic”

Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s 1970 documentary film, ‘Let It Be’, used two film cameras that rolled from the moment the first Beatle appeared each day and continued recording until the last one had left. It wasn’t the first film of its kind, and it certainly hasn’t been the last. But it was appraised for its fly-on-the-wall glimpses into the dynamics and tensions that would lead to the band’s break-up. But criticised, too, for its indulgence. Such exercises can indeed be dull and draggy and are often only rescued by the subjects’ celebrity and enjoyed by the fans. It is therefore quite a risk to construct a fictitious band, give it the same treatment, and then unleash it onto a theatre audience as a three hour play with music.

“Stereophonic” follows an unnamed British-American rock band on the cusp of superstardom as they struggle to record their new album. Set in the mid-seventies, it takes place solely within the confines of a recording studio in California. The time and place are both beautifully evoked by David Zinn’s nostalgically perfect set complete with its working reel-to-reel deck and analogue desk. Enver Chakartash’s choice of costume is equally in tune with the post-hippy, West-coast vibe. The band has a strong resemblance to Fleetwood Mac, not necessarily in appearance but in its line up and relationships within. A lawsuit filed by the author of the Fleetwood Mac memoir, which was settled out of court, didn’t dampen the play’s success on Broadway last year, breaking the record for the most Tony Award nominations.

There is no getting away from the uncanny comparisons to the real-life band. In writer David Adjmi’s thinly veiled counterpart we follow the shenanigans of married couple bassist Reg (Zachary Hart) and keyboardist/vocalist Holly (Nia Towle); longtime partners guitarist/vocalist Peter (Jack Riddiford) and singer Diana (Lucy Karczewski); and drummer Simon (Chris Stack). It is quite a long time before we get to sample some of the music they are making, composed by Will Butler – former member of the indie rock band Arcade Fire. It takes a long time for anything to happen. In fact, the play takes a long time. Period. Or rather, full stop – in honour of the three-to-two majority of British members in the band. The performances, however, do allow us to get to know the characters quite swiftly. Riddiford plays the control freak who surreptitiously adopts the role of producer and is abusive to his bandmates and his partner, Diana. Karczewski’s performance as Diana is the most gripping, as she pieces together her confidence despite Peter’s damaging swipes, eventually conquering all and outgrowing the collective success by securing a lucrative solo contract. Hart’s Reg epitomises the coke-addled bassist who is more interesting in his brief flashes of sobriety than his shouty, shallow jibes. Towle’s Holly is torn between rejecting and accepting her husband’s behaviour, finding solace in her music and her friendship with Diana. In the midst is Stacks as the drummer, Simon, not just the backbeat to the band but the backbone to the line-up. Peacemaker and therapist, but even so, not averse to occasionally throwing his own tantrums.

It is a world of booze, cocaine, coffee and cigarettes. Tempers fray frequently (too frequently), but everyone is exhausted by the recording sessions that constantly creep into the early hours. We occasionally feel the same. The stop-start frustrations in the sound booth often cut short the beautiful moments of the music. And inside jokes can outstay their welcome. How long does it really take to tune a snare drum? We are furiously willing the actors along in their attempts to settle artistic differences – but when it does come together, the result is musical magic. Butler’s compositions perfectly suit the setting and are beautifully performed by the cast. Both Karczewski and Towle have the voices that can easily give Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie a run for their money.

No recording studio can function without the engineers. Eli Gelb and Andrew R. Butler are Grover and Charlie, the ill-fated, tech-wizards at the console who are often the uncredited heroes of the day. In this respect, Gelb and Butler are the saviours of the show too. A breath of fresh air, they provide the comic relief that is much needed, and also the most memorable and believable characters. Hilariously absurd but in tune with the precariousness of their position. Dismissive of the egos they are working with but knowing how to pitch their servility just right to keep their jobs. Until they’ve had enough, that is.

There is no denying that this is a microscopic and detailed look at the blood, sweat and tears of genius. Art isn’t easy. It takes time. “Stereophonic” certainly latches onto that requirement. A literal translation of the drawn-out process of making an album. There are moments of pure genius in this play, but they are buried under the weight of self-indulgence and multiple takes.

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

STEREOPHONIC

Duke of York’s Theatre

★★★

“when it does come together, the result is musical magic”

STEREOPHONIC

Duke of York’s Theatre

Reviewed on 14th June 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Marc Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Stereophonic

Stereophonic

Stereophonic

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