★★★★

“Both actors possess exceptional singing voices — expressive, versatile, and emotionally charged”

The Rise & Fall of Vinnie & Paul explores one of art history’s most infamous fallouts — the brief but intense period when, in the autumn/winter of 1888, Vincent van Gogh and Paul Gauguin lived and worked side by side in Vincent’s little Yellow House in the South of France. What begins as a shared dream of founding an artists’ colony soon unravels into a tempest of clashing egos, artistic ideals, and personal demons — culminating in Vincent’s self-mutilation and Paul’s abrupt departure.

This 60-minute two-hander rock musical blends fact with imaginative interpretation, propelled by a dynamic score and an unflinching examination of genius, obsession, and collapse.

Max Alexander-Taylor is magnetic and heartbreaking as Vincent, capturing the intensity of a man on the brink, whose passion for art masks deepening psychological instability. Nicholas Carter (Paul) is a perfect counterpoint — more restrained, emotionally torn, quietly simmering with frustration. Their chemistry is electric, veering from camaraderie to confrontation in a heartbeat. Both actors possess exceptional singing voices — expressive, versatile, and emotionally charged, moving effortlessly from delicate vulnerability to raw, soaring power.

Neil Bastian’s music and lyrics are a clear highlight. The score feels contemporary yet rooted in character — a mix of driving rock anthems and hushed, lyrical ballads. The opening number, Sunflower Power, sets a sharply ironic tone: Paul suggests Vincent has a sunflower seed in his brain and warns the audience he’ll be “cutting off his ear by the end of the hour” — a dark, witty line that chillingly foreshadows what’s to come.

This leads into a beautifully observed scene depicting Paul’s arrival in France, marvelling at the brilliance of Vincent’s sun-drenched summer work. In A Fistful of Brushes, the two duet with infectious optimism, declaring “colour is our new religion.” But harmony is short-lived. Paul learns he has sold a painting in Paris — while Vincent remains unsold.

Like a Painter Man reveals Paul’s growing doubts, and his suggestion in Take a Trip to Your Mind that Vincent paint from imagination proves dangerous. Vincent’s mind is not a safe place to linger. In Way Past Midnight, Paul recounts a disturbing nocturnal episode in which Vincent scrawled “I am the Holy Spirit” on the wall — a clear sign he is unravelling. News of Vincent’s brother Theo’s engagement — the man funding their lifestyle — proves the final blow, prompting Paul’s suggestion that their artistic experiment has failed — triggering Vincent’s downward spiral.

The following three numbers — Me and My Friend, Welcome to My Funeral, and Wheatfield with Crows — chart Vincent’s descent into psychosis, his self-mutilation, and eventual suicide, reported two years later in a newspaper Paul reads alone. The show ends with Red is the Colour, a haunting duet that mingles grief with a flicker of hope.

Kirstie Davis’ direction makes sharp use of the intimate studio space. A few simple props — stools, an easel, a trunk — create a shifting world that always feels alive. The tight staging amplifies the claustrophobia of their partnership; when violence erupts, it’s all the more shocking. Lighting is used with precision and symbolism: warm ambers give way to stark, envious greens, and in the climactic moment, a flood of red saturates the stage. Silhouette work adds visual intrigue, suggesting fractured selves and internal ghosts — as if we’re witnessing both the men and their demons.

Ryan Anstey’s sound design lends emotional and psychological texture. Natural sounds — wind, birdsong, rolling waves — gradually give way to something darker. During Vincent’s breakdowns, we hear echoes of voices in his head: his father’s stern religious teachings, inner criticism, mocking judgement.

The Rise & Fall of Vinnie & Paul is a fascinating, emotionally raw, and musically rich new work that — despite being a shortened version of a full-length musical in development — feels remarkably complete. It distils a fraught, complex relationship into something both theatrical and truthful — a vivid exploration of artistic brilliance, mental illness, and the volatile intimacy of creative partnership.

CABLE STREET at Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★

“a good effort to remind the audience of the power of the people against malevolent political forces”

It’s not often that you get a musical written about your old street. As a previous resident of one of the roads leading off Cable Street, I’ve passed by the large mural commemorating the 1936 Battle of Cable Street numerous times without looking deeply into this symbol of mass resistance to fascism.

Now, in the model of Hamilton or Operation Mincemeat, writers Alex Kanefsky (book) and Tim Gilvin (music and lyrics) have pulled together a reflective show that uses song and dance to surface this lesser-known historic event. As in Hamilton, the music reflects a variety of cultures, with hip hop references layered on top of Jewish and Irish musical references. As in Operation Mincemeat, the fascists get arguably the best song.

For those who were not paying attention to their interwar British history, the Battle of Cable Street is so named after the road on which a patchwork army of Jewish, Irish, Socialist and Trade Union groups held back thousands of Oswald Moseley’s British Union of Fascists set on marching through what was then a predominantly Jewish area of East London. The musical interpretation uses the story of three families to explore just some of the hundreds of thousands in the motley coalition. The Battle of Cable Street has since become known as the day that fascism in Britain was defeated, and prevented it ever gaining a political hold on the country.

The show is framed by a modern day East End walking tour recounting this history, with an overbearing tourist from New York asking questions about her mother, once a local. This walking tour pops up in several scenes, either interrupting the events playing out in 1936, or contrasting with rival (and rather tasteless) Jack the Ripper tours that stomp the same cobbled streets.

If the stories of three families and two warring walking tours sounds like a few too many strands, you might be correct. At times the compact performance space of the Southwark Playhouse felt a little cramped; this worked well when presenting about the claustrophobic housing, and less so when trying to follow contrasting narratives. Actors playing instruments on stage to accompany the semi-concealed band also contributed to the cluttering of the space. Aoife Mac Namara’s fiddle made sense in the numbers with a gaelic undertone, but the electric guitar felt out of place.

The central playing space is surrounded on three sides by seating, with the back wall covered with haphazard wired and wooden fencing. On stage is a large bureau, two desks and chairs pushed against the back. These are regularly repositioned to create the different scenes, with the simplicity working well. On the whole, the set (Yoav Segal) and props were used effectively, except a very obviously homemade horse head used to represent a police cavalry came across as more Blue Peter than War Horse.

Of the 1936 events, Sha Dessi as Mairead Kenny, daughter of an Irish immigrant, drives the show forward with strong vocals and resolute determination. Dessi’s character has to balance fervent revolutionary zeal with a laundry list of responsibilities. She meets and falls for Sammy Scheinberg (Joshua Ginsberg), the rapping son of Jewish family living close who is struggling to find work. Similarly, Ron Williams (Danny Colligan) is a northerner from Lancashire who is also failing to find any work, but unlike Sammy who gets influenced by Mairead into coming along to communist meetings, Ron falls into the fascist embrace.

The ensemble cast was stuffed with talent, with supporting actors contending with multiple character changes. Debbie Chazen as the visiting New Yorker, Mairead’s Irish mother, and also a bumbling police officer was a standout, as was Jade Johnson whose solo Stranger / Sister was performed with sensitivity and power. Sophia Ragavelas who leads one of the strongest songs in the show – a rousing No Pasaran in the model of Les Miserables barricade scene – was also a highlight.

There are many things that work well with Cable Street, though ultimately it neither gets the high tension and deep emotion of Hamilton, or the tongue in cheek hilarity of Mincemeat. The ending is unsatisfactory – with a rush of events that threaten to derail the entire show and saved by the unveiling of a man who we already know isn’t dead. As a small point, the modern day East End is not well represented – there’s only one mention of the Bangladeshi community in passing (a 1978 murder) who have contributed so much to the area in the past 50 years.

Given the current political environment and rise of antisemitism across the UK, this is a good effort to remind the audience of the power of the people against malevolent political forces, featuring a strong selection of upbeat musical numbers. However, a little more restraint from director Adam Lenson, or a pruning of the dense narratives might have helped tell this important story a little better.

THE RISE AND FALL OF VINNIE & PAUL

The Glitch

★★★★

“Both actors possess exceptional singing voices — expressive, versatile, and emotionally charged”

THE RISE AND FALL OF VINNIE & PAUL

The Glitch

Reviewed on 17th April 2025

by Ellen Cheshire

Previously reviewed by Ellen:

THE RISE AND FALL

THE RISE AND FALL

THE RISE AND FALL

CABLE STREET at Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★

“a good effort to remind the audience of the power of the people against malevolent political forces”

CABLE STREET at Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 26th February 2024

by Rosie Thomas

Photography by Jane Hobson

Previously reviewed at Southwark Playhouse venues:

CABLE STREET

CABLE STREET