Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

SINATRA THE MUSICAL

★★★★★

Aldwych Theatre

SINATRA THE MUSICAL

Gala Performance in aid of Nordoff & Robbins at the Aldwych Theatre

★★★★★

“He has the cheeky swagger, style and confidence that captures Sinatra in a nutshell; with a voice to match”

In 1945, Frank Sinatra said in an interview that “I wish I had learnt how to read music”. He could follow a simple lead sheet, and by tracking the patterns of notes on the page he made his own notations to the music. Far from inhibiting his career, this gave him a deep understanding – a sixth sense that carried him through more than sixty years of his professional life. Ol’ Blue Eyes could do no wrong. But there was a time in the late nineteen-forties when he hit a low point, personally and professionally, and as his reputation plummeted, his career – and indeed his life – almost came to a grinding halt. It is this period that is the basis of Joe DiPietro’s “Sinatra the Musical”, rounding off with his dramatic comeback during the early part of the fifties. It is an extraordinarily smart snapshot of his life, eschewing the urge to trawl through a ‘cradle-to-grave’ bio musical. As a result, the emotional depth is enhanced, and by showing less we get a clearer picture of who Sinatra was.

But it is also down to the performances. Having opened in the West End in June of this year, we are at a special gala performance in aid of the music therapy charity, Nordoff and Robbins. Without fanfare (in fact, with an almost secretive lack of announcement), ensemble player and understudy Sam Brown steps into Frankie’s ‘vagabond shoes’ to take the lead in this performance. From the moment Brown takes to the stage we know a star is born. In his tailored suit, jauntily tilted fedora and loosened tie, he has the cheeky swagger, style and confidence that captures Sinatra in a nutshell; with a voice to match.

Nevertheless, the musical is not merely a jukebox musical, nor a tribute act. Tina Sinatra – Frank’s youngest daughter – has kept her hands in the development, making sure the story tells the truth: warts and all. We begin at Paramount Studio, when Frank seemed to have it all. The adoring fans, a devoted wife and a burgeoning movie career. “That’s All” croons Brown as the domesticity of his Hoboken kitchen slides away into a starlit sky. His wife, Nancy (a terrific Phoebe Panaretos), stays at home while Sinatra is on the West Coast, bed-hopping between verses of “Come Fly with Me” with the likes of Lana Turner, Judy Garland and Marlene Dietrich. His alleged mobster connections are touched upon as rumours spread about how he got himself out of difficult contracts. But much of the narrative zooms in on the love affair of his life with Ava Gardner, who truly got under his skin and never really left. The Nancy-Frank-Ava love-triangle bristles with emotion. Panaretos is a naturally strong Nancy Sinatra, unafraid to carry through her ultimatums even while her heart is breaking. Ana Villafañe is a smouldering fire as Gardner, whose flames don’t always melt her icy and pragmatic core. When Brown takes the tempo down for “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”, Panaretos mournfully sings “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning”, with Villafañe’s countermelody of “I’m a Fool to Want You”. As the songs overlap, they merge into one climactic crescendo.

Director and choreographer Kathleen Marshall should have brought the curtain down for interval at that very point, but a few further biographical snippets are thrown into the story first. But otherwise, the staging (with set design by Peter McKintosh, lighting by Bruno Poet, sound by Jonathan Deans and costume by Jon Morrell) is meticulous and as smooth as Sinatra’s warm and rich tenor. With a seventeen-piece orchestra we have the full range from ballad to big band, and all the swing in between. Over twenty songs, arranged by Gareth Valentine and Ian Eisendrath, are plucked from the immense repertoire to best tell the story, none of them feeling as though shoe horned in. The first act closes with “That’s Life”, the irony not missed as Sinatra finds himself dropped by MGM, without a record contract and Ava Gardner ‘needing space’. Even his agent quits (momentarily). Brown waits until we are back in our seats after interval to tell us he has always done it “My Way”. Regrets – he’s had a few; of course he has. But his resilience inherited from his Italian immigrant parents pulls him through. Marty Maguire is terrific as his father, Marty Sinatra. Silent and strong and wonderfully funny. Jenna Russell steals each scene she is in with her starry performance as Dolly Sinatra, the loving mother with the iron fist. Lee Zarrett, as Sinatra’s long-suffering agent, has a gift for comic timing and throwaway lines. And every cast member’s voice is crystal clear, steeped in emotion and pitch perfect. As marriage follows divorce and highs follow lows, the voices follow the cadences, lilts and inflections in perfect harmony. “One for My Baby”, a stirring, sultry duet performed by Brown and Melissa Nettleford’s sassy Billie Holiday gives way to the meticulously authentic upbeat tempo of Nat King Cole’s “Straighten Up and Fly Right” (Oliver Adam-Reynolds is a dead ringer for Cole). The bit parts are just as important as the leads in this musical. Marshall’s choreography lets the ensemble sweep across the stage while their voices create the inimitable Golden Age chorale sound.

The narrative never probes too deep nor delves too far into the darkness. But the balance of music, dialogue and backstory is as satisfying as the mix of poignancy, comedy and information. Larry Blank’s orchestrations incite swoons as Brown croons. The whole evening is an absolute joy. Get dressed up, have a martini and go see “Sinatra the Musical”. Ol’ Blue Eyes is back!



SINATRA THE MUSICAL

Gala Performance in aid of Nordoff & Robbins

Aldwych Theatre

Reviewed on 15th October 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Brinkhoff Moegenburg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SINATRA THE MUSICAL REVIEW

SINATRA THE MUSICAL

SINATRA THE MUSICAL

SINATRA THE MUSICAL

THE CHERRY ORCHARD

★★★★

Harold Pinter Theatre

THE CHERRY ORCHARD

Harold Pinter Theatre

★★★★

“a vital interpretation of Chekhov’s story”

When Anton Chekhov’s last play, “The Cherry Orchard”, was first staged in 1904, he was disappointed that the director, Konstantin Stanislavski, had presented the play as a tragedy. Chekhov had always intended it to be a comedy – almost farcical in places. Conor McPherson’s current adaptation, directed by Ian Rickson, remains faithful to the original intention, which is a bit of a mixed blessing. Although the humour is perfectly balanced in this solid production, the emotional connection to its lead characters are somewhat sacrificed. Kristin Scott Thomas, as the commanding aristocrat Ranevskaya fallen on hard times, seems to be channelling a toned-down Edina from ‘Absolutely Fabulous’ as she squanders money she doesn’t have, whilst misunderstanding those trying to help her. Stephen Mangan is on comedic form as Lopakhin, who clumsily paves Ranevskaya’s road to Hell with his good intentions. We do get a sense of his frustration from his later outbursts in reaction to the constant misinterpretation of his motives but, like most of the characters, the focus is on gently mocking the elite dying out in the face of change.

Very much an ensemble piece, the two starry leads generously blend into the company that portrays an ‘upstairs-downstairs’ world that has been flattened into one story. The servants are becoming the masters and vice versa. The defiance shown – particularly by Noof Ousellam’s manservant Yasha and Megan Cusack’s socially mobile housemaid Dunyasha – gives the play a contemporary feel which never feels out of place on Chloe Lamford’s shabby but opulent set. We could be in an abandoned Russian estate or a neglected stately home in Surrey. The original setting, both political and geographical, feels just as abandoned however. The regional accents cover most of the British Isles; predictably handing out the provincial ones to the serfs, unnecessarily delineating them from the others’ RP.

Sussie Juhlin-Wallen’s costumes are equally eclectic, in a successful bid to untether the play from any period in time. Verging on the bizarre, a twenty-first century style tentatively predominates. But it is McPherson’s text that brings the play sweepingly up to date. Rickson could have pumped a touch more energy into the cast, but the dialogue does cruise along magnificently, spluttering out occasional expletives and anachronisms that make the characters entirely relatable. Jack Riddiford’s Trofimov stands out; less the pseudo-Bolshevik revolutionary and more of a petulant but privileged perpetual student. Ousellam displays just the right amount of unpleasantness as he tries to clutch at a status his character, Yasha, cannot quite reach. Ranevskaya’s adopted daughter, Varya, burns with a fiery vitality in the hands of Vinette Robinson who dips into vulnerability while vainly waiting for Lopakhin to make his move.

There is fine attention to detail that accentuate the comedy. Shubham Saraf’s maladroit Yepikhodov often steals the scene without trying to in the slightest, lurking in the background with a guitar in hand, silently echoing the frustrations of the outspoken protagonists. Anastasia Martin is strong and world weary as the young Anya, while her Uncle Gaev (Peter Wight) is youthfully sentimental and eccentric. Karl Johnson, as the aging manservant Firs, is the surprise hit of the evening. Soaked in nostalgia but with the driest of humour, he can dish out uncomfortable home truths with a force that belies his frailty.

To call it a reimagining of “The Cherry Orchard” is a bit of a stretch. But it is certainly a vital interpretation of Chekhov’s story of the aristocrat returning home after a self-imposed exile in Paris, to find her very existence under threat. We never quite feel the urgency, however, partly because there isn’t enough invested in the emotional fall out, and the characters seem to be dodging the importance of the upheavals in their lives. We almost feel as though it’s the end of term rather than the end of an era when the house is finally abandoned and the first of the chainsaws are heard in the orchard. But it is not without intrigue or atmosphere. Bruno Poet’s lighting creates gorgeously evocative sunsets and sunrises that stream in through the high windows. The show doesn’t usher in a new dawn, but it does throw a new light on Chekhov’s ageless classic.



THE CHERRY ORCHARD

Harold Pinter Theatre

Reviewed on 12th October 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE CHERRY ORCHARD REVIEW

THE CHERRY ORCHARD

THE CHERRY ORCHARD

THE CHERRY ORCHARD