NATASHA, PIERRE & THE GREAT COMET OF 1812

Donmar Warehouse

★★★★★

“The performances are uniformly superb, the skin of each character ripped open by the flaming crossbow of passion”

A major comet is visible from earth on average every five to ten years, while a great comet is visible every twenty to thirty years. Although the timescale may be contracted a little, a truly great show appears every once in a while, that forces people to look up and take note. “Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812” is one of the brightest examples of this phenomenon. Directed by Tim Sheader, Dave Malloy’s searing sung-through musical will scorch itself into our memories for a long time to come.

Malloy has taken a seventy-page segment from Leo Tolstoy’s ‘War and Peace’ and moulded it into a passionate, original musical that interweaves the fates of the two protagonists: the story of Natasha’s downfall and Pierre’s awakening. A tale of despair and of hope. Surrounded by a colourful array of characters, it could be a convoluted affair, but Malloy’s libretto clarifies the narrative with mischievous simplicity and imaginative ingenuity. We are propelled into the story by way of the ‘Prologue’; playfully executed like a cross between a memory game and an introductory meeting for a covert club. A few melodious words from each, between the repeated refrain that one of its members is absent. ‘Andrey isn’t here’. Andrey is off fighting in the Napoleonic Wars. His fiancé is here though. The beautiful Countess Natasha, tossed into the centre of the space – a smouldering comet on her journey from gleeful, betrothed ingenue to tragic heroine.

Chumisa Dornford-May grabs the roller-coaster ride of Natasha’s role with complete abandon and commitment. Her songs of innocence capsized by harsh experience. All around her is seduction. The hunters and the hunted; cuckolds and adulterers. In Moscow, waiting for the return of her fiancé, Natasha falls in love with the casually dismissive yet alluringly sexy Anatole (Jamie Muscato in gorgeous, rock-star, swaggering form). Anatole’s sister, Hélène, is delighted by the illicit affair. After all, it is de rigueur. She herself has made a cuckold of her husband – the deeply unhappy Pierre. Cat Simmons’ manipulative Hélène is sultry and sexy yet encased in ice, while Declan Bennett’s Pierre is dishevelled in appearance and self-esteem, yet the heat from his growing awareness can warm the hardest heart.

The performances are uniformly superb, the skin of each character ripped open by the flaming crossbow of passion. We want to know what is going to happen but at the same time want to stay in each moment for as long as possible. Malloy’s score (which he also orchestrated for the ten-piece band) is impossibly eclectic and wonderfully fearless. A mix of folk, anarcho-punk, techno, baroque, chamber and New Wave. One moment heartbreaking ballads, the next storms of dramatic scales and diminished sevenths. The musical numbers are bolstered by the ensemble – one minute a celestial choir, the next a band of whirling dervishes at a rave. The musicians have no break, and just when you think you’ve reached a musical highlight, another appears on the horizon. And the singing is extraordinary – both in virtuosity and emotion. Bennett’s solo number ‘Dust and Ashes’ sweeps us away one moment; then Dornford-May lures us back in with the heartfelt ‘No One Else’. Simmons’ smoky vocals bewitch during ‘Charming’. Maimuna Memon, as Natasha’s cousin Sonya who vainly tries to save her, beguiles with a hypnotic performance and mesmerising voice – her plaintive ‘Sonya Alone’ up there with the peaks of the set list.

Evie Gurney’s costumes are as lawless and rebellious as the score. Like a job lot stolen from the wardrobe of a New Romantic music video they scream sex, drugs and rock n roll. Period and modern, the design mirrors the entire production which defies time and place. We know we are in nineteenth century Moscow, but we could equally be in New York’s Studio 54 nightclub in the nineteen-seventies.

“Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812” is a trailblazing show. Against Leslie Travers’ harsh, minimalist backdrop it dazzles at every level. It is spectacular and heartrending, right up to its closing number. Sung quietly to the accompaniment of a simple piano motif, it rises like the great comet of 1812, into an imagined starry sky. It brings with it the promise of a new life. It’s not the end of the world after all. The exhilaration ripples through everybody in the room. A soaring success.

NATASHA, PIERRE & THE GREAT COMET OF 1812

Donmar Warehouse

Reviewed on 17th December 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

SKELETON CREW | ★★★★ | July 2024

THE HUMAN BODY | ★★★ | February 2024

LOVE AND OTHER ACTS OF VIOLENCE | ★★★★ | October 2021

NATASHA

We’re now on BLUESKY – click to visit and follow

★★★★★

“Its biting, irreverent satire is the most delicious slap in the face you’ll ever experience”

“It is shocking, outrageous and insulting… and I loved every minute”. That is a quote from Mel Brooks’ and Thomas Meehan’s musical, but it could easily be the tagline of my review of Patrick Marber’s revival at the Menier Chocolate Factory. There are a lot of minutes – about one hundred and fifty of them – but each and every one of them is an inglorious joy.

It is extraordinary how it has stood the test of time. Written in 2001, based on Brooks’ 1976 movie, the bounds of good taste are annihilated. It’s a fun mind game to speculate as to whether it would ever get made today. Imagine the pitch. Camp Nazis goose-stepping while randy old widows tap dance with their Zimmer frames. Characters use sex as a way of extorting money. Jokes that rely on caricature, stereotypes and offending Jews and Gays. Pigeons with Swastikas and an abundance of limp-wristed ‘Heil Hitlers’. A curvy secretary who needs her fix of daily sex each morning. And of course, the show-stopping play-within-a-play ‘Springtime for Hitler’ featuring the Führer in gold spandex. Absolutely not! You’d be out on the street at best. In jail at worst.

Yet “The Producers” has not only survived, but it also feels more pertinent and relevant today than ever. Its biting, irreverent satire is the most delicious slap in the face you’ll ever experience. Wrap it up in Paul Farnsworth’s stunning array of costume, Lorin Latarro’s gorgeous choreography and Mel Brooks’ own score and you have the perfect Christmas present. It is thoroughly modern, yet the sense of vaudevillian nostalgia sweeps you off your feet from the opening bars to the final rousing chorus.

The premise is simple genius. Producer Max Bialystock bankrolls his Broadway flops by seducing rich, little old ladies. One day Leopold ‘Leo’ Bloom, a nervy accountant comes to check on his books but inadvertently hits on the idea that Max could make more money from a colossal failure than a huge hit. Cue the hunt for the worst play ever written, the most lamentable director and incompetent cast. The show will close on opening night and Max and Leo keep the money raised. But… well, you know the rest. You should. I’ve still yet to meet anyone who isn’t familiar with the story.

The show needs a dynamic duo at its heart. And this production beats with the irresistible pairing of Andy Nyman and Marc Antolin as Max and Leo. Nyman is star material from head to toe, full of ironic cynicism and scheming lechery with a taunting twinkle in his eye. Antolin is simply superb as the anxious accountant with dreams of Broadway. They are the oddest couple, yet visually, physically and vocally they are the perfect match. Harry Morrison, as the over-eccentric, Nazi-centric, pickelhaube-wearing writer of ‘Springtime for Hitler’ adds a zillion shades to the word ‘hilarious’, while Trevor Ashley takes ‘camp’ to the highest summits with his glorious portrayal of Roger de Bris, the flamboyant, failing theatre director. Joanna Woodward’s whimsical Swedish secretary adds love interest, sassy sexiness and a touch of tenderness. But we keep coming back to Antolin and Nyman, who steal the show so often they are in as much danger of winding up in jail as their characters.

The musical highlights are many. Antolin’s ‘I Wanna Be A Producer’, Woodward’s belting ‘When You’ve Got It, Flaunt It’ and Morrison’s high-spirited ‘Have You Ever Heard The German Band?’ to name a few. And Nyman’s ‘Betrayed’ during which he brilliantly gives us a speed summary of the show. Not to mention, of course, the ‘Gay Romp with Adolph and Eva’ in which the company, led by Ashley soar way, way over the top with the flamboyantly brazen ‘Springtime For Hitler’.

You really do have to see it to believe it. In fact, shorten that sentence. You really do have to see it! It is selling fast and furiously, but don’t worry too much. This show has ‘West End Transfer’ written all over it. I return to my opening line: “It is shocking, outrageous and insulting… and I loved every minute”. You will too.

NATASHA, PIERRE & THE GREAT COMET OF 1812

Donmar Warehouse

★★★★★

“The performances are uniformly superb, the skin of each character ripped open by the flaming crossbow of passion”

NATASHA, PIERRE & THE GREAT COMET OF 1812

Donmar Warehouse

Reviewed on 17th December 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

NATASHA

NATASHA

NATASHA

THE PRODUCERS

Menier Chocolate Factory

★★★★★

“Its biting, irreverent satire is the most delicious slap in the face you’ll ever experience”

THE PRODUCERS at the Menier Chocolate Factory

Reviewed on 10th December 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE PRODUCERS

THE PRODUCERS

THE PRODUCERS

THE PRODUCERS