Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

RUTH THE MUSICAL

★★★

Wilton’s Music Hall

RUTH THE MUSICAL

Wilton’s Music Hall

★★★

“The score, though, is an eclectic delight with vocal performances that are quite magical”

A few years ago, one might have been thrown off balance by the prospect of a musical about a convicted murderer and the last woman to be hanged in the United Kingdom. But it is a sign of the times that, in an age where no subject matter escapes the songfest treatment, barely an eyebrow is raised. But that hasn’t curbed the curiosity and anticipation that has surrounded “Ruth: The Musical”; the story of Ruth Ellis who shot and killed her violent, upper-class lover. A story of love, death, obsession, sex, jealousy and murder.

Ruth Ellis’ life has been covered in film and TV, but this stage adaptation goes a step further with its quest to empathise with her. It is a tall order which will surely provoke debate, but it adds contrasting and dramatic layers to a character who is chiefly recognised by mugshots and newspaper headlines. It is these headlines that open the show, projected onto the back wall of the atmospheric Wilton’s Music Hall stage, as dry ice snakes its way out of the wings, followed by the cast, silhouetted against the monochrome backdrop. We are in film noir territory, enhanced by an emotive and powerful ensemble opening number.

Written by Caroline Slocock and co-composed by John Cameron, Francis Rockliff and James Reader, it features Ruth at three stages of her life. ‘Cell Ruth’ (Bibi Simpson) is the first we meet. Ben Bull’s video design evocatively suggest the stark prison cell in which Ruth sits in conversation with Pierrepoint (a wonderfully down to earth yet mysterious Ian Puleston-Davies), one of the prison staff, whose specific job description I have to resist giving away. Between them they are looking back over Ruth’s life. Simpson cuts a hypnotic figure while her affected upper-class accent cleanly slices the muddy acoustics of the hall. The bulk of the story is portrayed in flashback by Hannah Traylen as ‘Past Ruth’, the nightclub ‘hostess’, surrounded by her lovers, colleagues and cohorts. Tagged onto the narrative is the appearance of ‘Young Ruth’ (Me-Li Yap) which seeks, less successfully, to demonstrate the abuse she received at the hands of her father.

Under the co-direction of Andy Morahan and Denise Silvey, the staging is beautifully executed (excuse the pun). Full of split levels and split scenes, the transitions from pre to post murder are seamless. The fact we already know the outcome heightens the poignancy of Ruth’s earlier struggles as she tries to make her way in the male-dominant, class-conscious society she has chosen. Traylen’s ‘Past Ruth’ is as equally a tragic figure as her resigned older self, but with more defiance. The story focuses on her chaste relationship with the devoted Desmond (John Faal) and the intense love affair with posh but penniless racing driver, David Blakely (Connor Payne). The stakes are somewhat low, however, and although the bullets may fly, the sparks never leave the ground. Payne’s ill-fated Blakely is uninspiring, stripping away any belief we might have in the fatal attraction he is supposed to ignite in Ruth. Much of the dialogue is delivered on one level and the emotional peaks invariably feel unearned.

The musical numbers, likewise, appear unearned at times. The score, though, is an eclectic delight (especially in the first act) with vocal performances that are quite magical. Late night jazz rubs shoulders with soulful ballads and rousing ensemble chorales; with a surreal comedy number thrown in to break up the seriousness of the courtroom scene. John Cameron’s filmic and sultry arrangements complement the narrative in what is more of a play with music rather than a musical. There is an undeniable glossy sheen to the show which only hints at the darkness beneath. We would like a more dangerous and grittier illustration that digs deeper. There is a quite crucial reveal for example, in the lead up to Ruth’s hanging, that could have been expanded upon. Otherwise, the elements are all present – the blonde femme fatale, the violent hard-drinking lover, the smoking pistol, the trial and the execution – even if the passion and the shock value elude us. Although not to die for, it is definitely a show to keep in one’s sights. The aim is right – it hasn’t quite reached the target yet.



RUTH THE MUSICAL

Wilton’s Music Hall

Reviewed on 19th March 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Charlie Flint


 

 

 

 

RUTH THE MUSICAL

RUTH THE MUSICAL

RUTH THE MUSICAL

GLORIOUS!

★★★

UK Tour

GLORIOUS!

Theatre Royal Windsor

★★★

“a very watchable, and funny, portrait of a very eccentric woman”

The American socialite, Florence Foster Jenkins, who was widely mocked for her poor singing ability once famously remarked that “people may say I can’t sing… but no one can ever say I didn’t sing”. It throws into question just how aware she was of her considerable vocally deficiencies. Was she in on the joke, or did she honestly believe that she had talent? To some extent, Peter Quilter’s stage comedy “Glorious!” addresses the dilemma. It treats its subject very much as a joke – especially in the first act – but also gives us a glimpse of the complex personal history behind an eccentric who is merely trying to live her dream. The latter may come a little too late, and the former overdramatised and outstretched. The jokes – at Jenkins’ expense – are relentless and repetitive, and consequently our belief in the extent of her self-delusion is undermined.

It is 1944 and Florence Foster Jenkins (Wendi Peters) is recruiting a new accompanist, having dismissed her original one after catching him giving her audience a ‘knowing smile’ during a performance. In walks Cosmé McMoon (Matthew James Morrison) who rather swiftly discovers what he is letting himself in for, but takes the job anyway. A lifelong alliance ensues which is eventually portrayed by the pair as a touching tribute to the human spirit. Morrison is a striking presence and a talented pianist who finds the perfect balance between humouring Jenkins and showing unwavering support and loyalty. We get that McMoon is not just in it for the money, of which Jenkins has plenty, inherited from her father. Also inherited was her fierce determination – a direct and perverse reaction to her father’s dismissal of her ambitions by refusing to fund her musical education. The loss of her sister at the tender age of eight also had profound effects on shaping her personality. These facts are glossed over somewhat, as is her first marriage and her subsequent relationship with the actor St. Clair Bayfield.

But, to be fair, that is not the ambition of the play. Quilter is unashamedly playing for laughs. And Peters and Morrison certainly deliver. Peters channels Hyacinth Bucket from ‘Keeping up Appearances’, with a faultless American accent – and more faultless is her ability to sing extremely badly. One needs to be a virtuosic vocalist to be able to get it so wrong so convincingly. It is a bold performance, complete with outrageous costumes courtesy of Ingrid Hu. Morrison has more to play with and stands out as the sympathetic piano-player, breaking out of character to address the audience directly, at times, with some much-needed exposition.

To complement what is inherently a two hander are Sioned Jones as friend and side-kick Dorothy, and Caroline Gruber’s Italian maid, Maria. “I’m sure she’s Italian just to annoy me” quips Jenkins with shades of ‘Fawlty Towers’ creeping into the script. Gruber also doubles as the uptight Mrs Verrinder Gedge who storms the stage during one of Jenkins’ recitals to deliver the truth – in true ‘Emperor’s New Clothes’ fashion. But the show ultimately belongs to Peters and Morrison, and we certainly feel the bond between the two. Director Kirk Jameson seems to take a while to find the true heart of the piece. Act One is very much a one-trick wonder that relies on slapstick rather than character; and we only really start warming to the couple in the second half. The gentler moments are quite touching, especially when Peters demonstrates moments of self-doubt that her peers rarely – if ever – saw. The comedy also works better the more subtly it is delivered. McMoon’s closet homosexuality is nearly blown by Jenkins during some cleverly constructed and unpredictable dialogue.

We do take particular pleasure from hearing Mozart’s ‘The Magic Flute’, for example, or Bizet’s ‘Carmen’ being well and truly murdered. Even if it does wear a bit thin. We are rewarded with a quite stunning finale that gives us a delicious taste of Wendi Peters’ true talents. What we hear in our head or in our heart is not always what is heard by those that surround us. Jenkins died shortly after her ill-fated public performance at Carnegie Hall. We may never really know how aware she was of others’ perception. “Glorious!” doesn’t attempt to shed more light on the quandary, but it is a very watchable, and funny, portrait of a very eccentric woman. Thankfully it hits many more right notes than its subject.



GLORIOUS!

Theatre Royal Windsor then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 17th March 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Chris Davis


 

 

 

 

GLORIOUS!

GLORIOUS!

GLORIOUS!