Tag Archives: Nick Lidster

BRIGADOON

★★★★

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

BRIGADOON

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

★★★★

“The music and dance are the highlights, stylishly adding extra layers of the story onto the dialogue”

Lerner and Loewe’s “Brigadoon” hasn’t been performed in London for over thirty-five years, and the word, from some quarters, seems to be that there must be a reason for this. In short, though, Drew McOnie’s magical interpretation at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre is a strong counterargument as to why it is definitely high time for a revival. Adapted and (kind of) updated by Rona Munro it almost makes sense of its impossibly whimsical narrative but, and goes along with it, creating an enchanting mix of music, dance and drama. We are swept up into the fantasy of it all, which in itself is quite a feat. It is the sort of plot that, if closely analysed, the holes picked in it would cause it to collapse completely.

The echoing sound of a big drum kicks off the evening, followed by haunting bagpipes. Basia Bińkowska’s multi-levelled, lush and heather-wrapped set merges into the park’s natural background. Two American fighter pilots appear over the brow of the hill. The romantically inclined Tommy (Louis Gaunt) is wounded while the more down-to-earth Jeff (Cavan Clarke) is rather unsuccessfully trying to get their bearings. They have literally dropped out of the sky and according to their map they appear to be nowhere. From this ‘nowhere’, however, the village of Brigadoon appears out of… well… nowhere. We have no alternate but to suspend our disbelief – the effect is quite intoxicating as we are surrounded by the glorious harmonies of the villagers. McOnie’s choreography is beautifully balletic, yet it somehow belongs to the world of Scottish reels and bagpipes too.

Brigadoon only exists for one day every one hundred years, thanks to a divine spell cast by the local minister two hundred years previously to protect it from the outside world. The townsfolk are forbidden to leave, otherwise the village would disappear forever. An outsider can only stay if they fall in love with a local, so strongly enough that they are prepared to give up everything for their love; ‘…after all, laddie, if ye love someone deeply, anythin’ is possible!’. The pilots spend pretty much all of act one unaware of this phenomenon, but when they discover it, have quite different reactions. This is very much a fairy tale, but also a love story burning away at its heart, with enough shades of darkness to prevent it from being too honey dewed.

The music and dance are the highlights, stylishly adding extra layers of the story onto the dialogue. Occasionally the movement is extraneous but always spectacular, held together by musical director Laura Bangay’s twelve-piece orchestra that mixes the traditional with the contemporary. The ensemble is just as vital as the lead players who generously never pull focus from the energy that floods the stage. Gaunt’s performance is quite believable (even if his story isn’t) in his depiction of an unwavering belief in love, that is also prone to moments of self-doubt, while Clarke’s pragmatic Jeff challenges but also accommodates his co-pilots idiosyncrasies, culminating in a deeply moving finale. The excellent Georgina Onuorah gives intensity and grace to Tommy’s love interest Fiona, while Nic Myers’ flirty Meg teases with, and confuses, Jeff with uncertain sex appeal. Jasmine Jules Andrews and Gilli Jones, as the newlyweds Jean and Charlie, are an enchanting couple. Danny Nattrass, as the tragic, lovesick Harry, matches an agile personality with a true talent for dance. Like the entire cast, the movement clearly defines the emotions and intentions of the characters.

All set against Jessica Hung Han Yun’s mystically atmospheric lighting, the evening is a delight throughout. The sumptuous score is at once familiar, yet fresh, with favourites such as ‘Almost Like Being in Love’, ‘The Love of My Life’ and ‘There but for You Go I’ sealing the message. It is a glorious tribute to the power of love. Like the unwitting co-pilots who wander into Brigadoon, we cannot fail to be moved and entertained by this production. It is unashamed escapism, but once we’re hooked, we don’t want to escape it.

 



BRIGADOON

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

Reviewed on 12th August 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Senior

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

NOUGHTS AND CROSSES | ★★★ | July 2025
SHUCKED | ★★★★★ | May 2025
FIDDLER ON THE ROOF | ★★★★★ | August 2024
THE SECRET GARDEN | ★★★ | June 2024
THE ENORMOUS CROCODILE | ★★★★ | May 2024
TWELFTH NIGHT | ★★★★★ | May 2024
LA CAGE AUX FOLLES | ★★★★★ | August 2023
ROBIN HOOD: THE LEGEND. RE-WRITTEN | ★★ | June 2023
ONCE ON THIS ISLAND | ★★★★ | May 2023
LEGALLY BLONDE | ★★★ | May 2022

 

 

BRIGADOON

BRIGADOON

BRIGADOON</h3

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF

★★★★★

Barbican

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF

Barbican

★★★★★

“Fein’s direction and Julia Cheng’s muscular choreography is marked by sublime precision”

In its Barbican transfer, director Jordan Fein’s revelatory Fiddler on the Roof retains the elemental power that made it a five-star phenomenon in Regent’s Park. He strips the beloved 1964 musical of its nostalgic veneer to expose something more potent and contemporary: a raw and resonant meditation on tradition, displacement, and the endurance of community.

Fun, too, in case there should be a misunderstanding. Great fun.

Set in 1905 in the menaced Jewish shtetl of Anatevka before the Russian revolution, Fiddler follows Tevye, a weary but devout milkman, as his five daughters begin to choose love over arranged marriage, and the outside world encroaches upon his way of life.

Anchored by songs like Tradition, If I Were a Rich Man, and Sunrise, Sunset, it’s long been cherished for its warmth and wit. But Fein’s version – subtly but decisively restaged – asks more interesting and topical questions too: what happens when the traditions that once sustained a community begin to fracture under the weight of change? What is the true impact of displacement, of a people menaced from their homes?

Where the musical was once critiqued as “shtetl sentimentalism,” this staging leans into pared-down grit, stoic humour, and haunting lyricism. There is a modern feel to the witty script – and to the resolutely ambiguous ending.

Tom Scutt’s gorgeous design is emblematic of the approach: instead of quaint rooftops, we see cornstalks uprooted and suspended above the stage, evoking both harvest and trauma. The titular fiddler (a magnetic Raphael Papo) becomes not just a symbol but a shadowy companion, echoing Tevye’s inner world with eerie cadenzas and an eventual duet with Hannah Bristow’s Chava – whose marriage outside the faith breaks her father’s beleaguered heart.

The huge cast is potent, using impressive numbers to magnificent effect, a dream sequence appearing like a fully-realised Hollywood dance number. Meanwhile, Adam Dannheisser’s Tevye is no grandstanding showman but a wry, tired father trying – and failing – to hold his family together through reason, prayer, and rueful monologues. His comedic timing is sharp and he plays out with great relish the classic sitcom paradigm of the father and husband who declares his dominance only to have it slyly eroded by the headstrong women around him.

But it’s his gentleness that resonates most, particularly opposite Lara Pulver’s commanding Golde, whose grounded and wary pragmatism keeps the domestic scenes taut and touching.

Fein’s direction and Julia Cheng’s muscular choreography is marked by sublime precision. The Bottle Dance at Tzeitel’s wedding is performed under a canopy that rises and falls. On top of that precarious canopy, and ominous, the fiddler makes clear that everything is poised on the brink of a mighty disaster. The Russians are coming.

The cast functions as a true community, especially in the spine-tingling finale as they sing Anatevka, their voices braided with longing, resilience, and bitter clarity. In a final image, the toppled milk cart, beautifully lit, appears like an oil painting. Everywhere, indeed, there is beauty and catastrophe.

One of Fein’s many achievements lies in his refusal to oversell modern parallels. The production trusts its audience to make the connections – to recognise in Anatevka’s forced dispersal the long shadow of global displacement. It neither moralises nor rants; it simply tells the story with integrity and emotional intelligence.

For all its sumptuous visual invention and musical flair, Fiddler is most powerful in its silences: a father cut off from his daughter, a community carrying candles into the dark, a fiddler playing an aching lament.

A joyous and moving triumph from beginning to end.



FIDDLER ON THE ROOF

Barbican

Reviewed on 3rd June 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Marc Brenner

 

 


 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA | ★★★★ | October 2024
KISS ME, KATE | ★★★★ | June 2024
LAY DOWN YOUR BURDENS | ★★★ | November 2023

 

 

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF

FIDDLER ON THE ROOF