Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

TRAINSPOTTING THE MUSICAL



UK Tour

TRAINSPOTTING THE MUSICAL

Theatre Royal Haymarket

“It may be a perfect day for Renton, but sadly, not for us”

There is always controversy, and also a certain predictability, when the counterculture becomes mainstream. The classic example of this is punk rock’s aggressive rejection of the music industry and society in the 1970s, which eventually turned into a conventional consumer commodity. No longer a threat, but accepted everyday life. There is sometimes irony in this, particularly when the original meaning is lost on its new audience. Lou Reed’s song ‘Perfect Day’ was incongruously picked up as the anthemic Children in Need charity single back in 1997. Did nobody examine the lyrics? As a love letter to heroin, however, it was an ideal choice for Danny Boyle’s film adaptation of Irvine Welsh’s gritty novel about Edinburgh heroin addicts. Already a massive cultural landmark of the nineties, the film revitalised modern British cinema.

One would hope that the musical treatment would have the same effect on London’s West End. Especially with Welsh himself at the helm, adapting his own novel and co-writing the original music and lyrics (with Stephen McGuinness) that sit alongside snippets of the iconic soundtrack from the film. It could be a triumph. And indeed, it is. A triumph of ambition over direction. The result is a senseless concoction of ideas that make a kindergarten brainstorming session look like rocket science. Practically every theatrical choice has no thought behind it.

Hats off to the cast, though, who dive headlong into their roles with the determination of an addict after their next fix. The commitment cannot be faulted, despite the occasional hesitation that betrays an unease with the material they have been handed. There is a moment when Spud (Kieran Andrew) questions why his fellow druggies keep bursting into song, echoing the audience’s bafflement. A moment of lucidity in the writing, perhaps, yet the self-referential humour is unsustained, leaving the potential for full-on parody unrealised.

Welsh’s novel, the subsequent stage adaptation and Boyle’s film follows the five principal characters in a stream-of-consciousness style. Its nonlinear plot allows differing perspectives that lead to a three-dimensional overview of these desperate characters. Director Caroline Jay Ranger’s staging flattens them in what is essentially a series of vignettes and songs plucked from a goody bag without rhyme or reason, leaving the actors to muddle through a mire of disjointed nonsense. Frankie O’Connor has muscle as the sociopathic Begbie but lacks the requisite menace. In short, we fail to believe. The harrowing moment when Rosie Dignan’s Alison loses her baby while she injects herself with heroin is obscured in clunky blocking and distraction – we are too busy wondering if this is a cue for another ill-fitting musical number.

Lewis Kidd, as Renton, has the charisma to bear the bulk of the narration, but we are told too much rather than being allowed to watch and make up our own minds. Renton’s parents (Rebecca McKinnis and Gordon Cooper) make an appearance in this musical version as expositional add-ons. Like the whole cast they have fine singing voices, but put to bewildering use. There are glimpses, however, for example the gospel-tinged reprise of Iggy Pop’s ‘Lust for Life’ which shows off the company’s rousing ensemble harmonies. Harmonies that simply don’t belong here, however, in much the same way that this story doesn’t belong in the plush surroundings of the Theatre Royal Haymarket. It is homogenised beyond recognition. Gone is all sense of subversion. Take away the expletives and we could be in a suburban school hall.

The run up to opening night was peppered with the question of why Welsh’s novel should be a musical. But then again, anything can be nowadays. On a positive note, “Trainspotting the Musical” defeats that argument. This dubious sense of optimism is reflected in the closing moments of the show, during which Renton shafts his so-called mates, steals their money and gleefully scarpers. A bit of a misguided message, especially when accompanied by a stirring chorus of ‘Perfect Day’. It may be a perfect day for Renton, but sadly, not for us.



TRAINSPOTTING THE MUSICAL

Theatre Royal Haymarket then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 23rd July 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Matt Crockett

 

 

 

 

 

 

TRAINSPOTTING

TRAINSPOTTING

TRAINSPOTTING

METAMORPHOSES

★★★★

Hammersmith Club

METAMORPHOSES

Hammersmith Club

★★★★

“Theatrical gold may be a hyperbole too far, but they have certainly created a real gem”

To say that Ovid’s epic, narrative “Metamorphoses” is old is an understatement. Written between 2 and 8 CE, the many myths that are recorded in his fifteen-book magnum opus were already centuries old. Yet over the millennia its influence hasn’t waned, and it continues to inspire. Dante, Chaucer and, of course, Shakespeare were all devotees, allowing Ovid’s poetry to shape their own work; and even today it sparks theatrical adaptations. Mary Zimmerman’s Pulitzer Prize-winning “Metamorphoses: Based on the Myths of Ovid” is one such example. Written at the turn of the twenty-first century it casts a contemporary eye on the likes of Eros and Psyche, Orpheus and Eurydice, Midas, Zeus… and the creation. Among others.

Milkweed Productions’ current interpretation maintains the modernity of Zimmerman’s narrative yet manages to instil a timeless magic with its innovative and evocative staging. Two bathing pools (rather inviting looking, in this heatwave) dominate the space, providing metaphorical and literal depth for the performers, who don’t shy away from fully immersing themselves in both the water and the text. We are in a hall in the back streets of Hammersmith which, in itself, is a touch bereft of atmosphere despite its sense of grandeur. Daylight floods through the high windows leaving little room for lighting, but the stripped-down approach allows us to focus on the performance. The Victorian, gold-leaf cornices are serendipitously appropriate as Midas bookends the show.

The eleven-strong cast play many roles as well as repeatedly switching into narrator mode. Directed by Eileen MacDonald (who also plays Eurydice – among others), the switches are seamless and as fluid as the ripples of water in the pools. With the audience on three sides, the whole space is used including the minstrels’ balcony and the raised stage as well as the central floor space; drawing us into the action. Surrounded by Antony Lam’s subtle soundscape, minimalism rules the day, but the result is engaging and moving, as well as funny and playful.

Harry Pritchard’s Midas is a privileged manchild who ignores the advice that his wish is a “really bad idea”. In a neat twist, gold is synonymous with profit, which lends a suitably satirical and contemporary take on the dialogue. Pritchard later turns up as the insatiable Erysichthon who ends up eating himself accompanied by the incongruous strains of jazz music. Astute little choices permeate this staging, sometimes missed, but more often visible in their ingenuity. MacDonald’s Eurydice, drowning in the pool, replicates the tragic Ophelia of Millais’ famous oil painting.

The amount of doubling up of characters is impressive, but nevertheless easy to follow, with each performer succinctly embodying their role with quirky, eccentric touches. Three laundresses narrate much of the story before slipping into their other characters; whether a significant mythical protagonist or a servant, nursemaid, even a disembodied voice. Music is used sparsely but beautifully and evocatively. We long for Lam’s violin to reappear following its brief appearance, yet their singing voice lingers in the air, suspended in our hearts. Elsewhere, the delicate ensemble harmonies are equally gorgeous.

It is difficult – and unfair – to single out any cast members. Each convey their own charismatic individuality; from Cameron Chavers’ cool, sassy Aphrodite, Cheri McKenzie’s striking Hermes, Shannon Smith’s formidable Bacchus, Abigail Devine’s headstrong Pomona, Lucy Krubiner’s disapproving Alcyone, with Anne McCarron taking on a ridiculous number of personas. They all shift into their other roles with ease, aided by McKenzie’s elegant choreography, which comes to the fore at moments such as the slightly dubious seduction of Cinyras by his daughter Myrrah (an impressive Rachael Dowsett). The seediness of this story is overruled by the brutal tragedy depicted in the inspired movement. But we soon return to humour, with Brandon Jewell’s wonderful turn as the brattish public schoolboy, Phaeton, lounging by the pool before driving Daddy’s sun too close to the earth. Most spoilt kids just crash the car – he trashes the whole earth in flames.

This company have a fine hold on Zimmerman’s writing which balances humour and satire with poetry and lyricism. They have less of an eye on the clock, perhaps, but nothing an interval wouldn’t cure. The evening ends on an optimistic note, with Midas’ wish revoked. Indeed, his capacity to turn everything he touches into gold may have been a curse for Midas. For this company it is a gift. Theatrical gold may be a hyperbole too far, but they have certainly created a real gem.



METAMORPHOSES

Hammersmith Club

Reviewed on 16th July 2026

by Jonathan Evans


 

 

 

 

METAMORPHOSES

METAMORPHOSES

METAMORPHOSES