★★★★

“Tragedy and farce link arms and are not afraid to share the same lines of dialogue.”

Although Alan Bleasdale wrote the original series of television plays before Margaret Thatcher came to power, it wasn’t first broadcast until 1982 and was consequently seen to be a specific critique of the Thatcher era. His writing, though, had a far more wide-ranging effect that guaranteed the success of the stories. The nostalgic and gritty realism still holds power nearly half a century later, as evidenced by James Graham’s stirring adaptation for the stage, currently on a nationwide tour.

The early nineteen-eighties were different things for different people. At one end of the scale there were the rich and ambitious, riding on progress and the jetstream of new money. But while Harry Enfield parodied this selfishness of the yuppie culture (we all remember the ‘Loadsamoney’ character?), Bleasdale was focusing on the underside; the high unemployment and collapse of the primary industries. “Boys form the Blackstuff” follows five working class men trying to keep afloat amid this recession, not helped by the suspicious and bullying hand of the Department of Employment.

Amy Jane Cook’s brutalist and severe set evokes the Liverpool docklands with its iron frameworks which close in on the more intimate scenes, lending an air of claustrophobia to the domestic bickering that runs parallel to the collective fight for survival that these characters are up against. Kate Wasserberg’s stylish direction weaves the short scenes together into a series of choreographed vignettes that flow, then clash like freshwater rapids coming up against the murkiness and remorselessness of the Mersey.

We get to know the principal characters early on (if we don’t know them already). Chrissie, Loggo, Yosser, George, Dixie and Snowy. Even if you are unfamiliar with the original, and once you’ve acclimatised to the authentic Liverpudlian accent, their stories are easy to follow. The performances of each cast member are strikingly individual and recognisable. Obviously, Jay Johnson’s ‘Yosser’ stands out from the crowd with his peppered catchphrases (‘gizza job’ and ‘I could do that’) and jittery, unpredictable energy. We realise that this could be a play about mental health – a sudden understanding that whisks the narrative into the present day but without the unease of having to tread carefully through contemporary fragility. Words of wisdom, particularly from Ged McKenna’s wonderfully uneducated yet perfectly erudite ‘George’, are never lost in the humour. We laugh through this show just as much as we gasp at the personal hardships endured.

The pace picks up in the second act, even as the scenes get longer and more introspective. The humour and pathos join forces in monologue. Tragedy and farce link arms and are not afraid to share the same lines of dialogue. A funeral scene, as poignant as they come, bleeds brilliantly into the comedy of a dole queue. An anguished wife (a superb Sian Polhill-Thomas) wondering how to feed her children is, in the next scene, an acerbically grim clerk at the jobcentre. But under the lights, each character casts shadow of hope. Even if the shades aren’t subtle, it is the contrast of light and dark that bring this show alive.

We might not have admitted this in the eighties, but these ‘boys’ feel emasculated, fragile and desperate for hope. The writing is sensitive beyond its years, and in Graham’s revival we can carouse in the period without having to make excuses for it. Despite being geographically and culturally specific, it is universal. And despite being rooted in a particular decade, it is timeless. The stories of ordinary people, told in an extraordinary production.

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA at the Dominion Theatre

★★★★★

“Crisp, dazzling, bold and brash”

Back in 2003 a young woman was hired as a personal assistant to a very well-known editor-in-chief for ‘Vogue’ magazine. When Dame Anna Wintour (for it was she) learned that a novel (reportedly earning its author a $250,000 advance) was being published, she said “I cannot remember who that girl is”. Within months, though, the rest of the world knew very well who Lauren Weisberger was. When news reached Hollywood, the rights were snapped up and Meryl Streep stepped into Wintour’s high heeled shoes, playing the thinly disguised character of Miranda Priestly – the high-flying, ruthless head of ‘Runway’ magazine.

Fast forward a decade or two. Elton John is drafted into the empire, along with American singer, actress, model, producer, dancer, designer and overall icon Vanessa Williams. Elton’s job is to knock out a memorable and instantly recognisable score, while Vanessa has some pretty lofty stilettos to fill. It has been a long catwalk, that eventually led – via a preview summer season in Plymouth – to London’s grand Dominion Theatre. With the sheer abundance of new musicals currently opening in the West End at the moment, it needs to make a splash to stand out. But as Anna Wintour herself has famously said; “If you can’t be better than your competition, just dress better.” This musical has taken her words to heart.

“The Devil Wears Prada” is, simply put, a stunning production in every way. Crisp, dazzling, bold and brash; it invites you to wallow in the feel-good spectacle without straining to look closely for the hidden safety pins that hold it all together. For that is not the point. This is pure escapism and, as such, arrives at just the right time of the year. Let’s get the anticipated, predominant quibble out of the way first. Why a musical? It was certainly one of my questions. But the answer came quickly. Most of the dialogue is lifted from the film, and what the team have done (Kate Wetherhead’s book, Shaina Taub and Mark Sonnenblick’s lyrics and Elton John’s music) is to let the spoken word bleed seamlessly into song. There is a natural rhythm to the text, that is full of cracking soundbites, that cries out for a melody. Melodies that unmistakably come from Elton’s ivory-tickling fingers. Motifs lifted from his back catalogue ring out loud above the musical theatre bias but, hey, it is uplifting and sounds superb. The voices catapult to the rafters, even if – or perhaps due to – some of the emotion being too impassioned for its subject matter.

Despite a huge ensemble, the story revolves around a small bunch of characters. Wannabee journalist Andrea ‘Andy’ Sachs (Georgie Buckland) lands herself the job as junior PA to the savage chief of the magazine; Miranda Priestly (Vanessa Williams). Initially a square peg in a round whole, Andy undergoes a transformation that puts Olivia Newton John’s leather-clad make-over in ‘Grease’ to shame. The new look comes with greater responsibilities, extra glamour, but also a split form boyfriend Nate (Rhys Whitfield) and a realisation that she has strayed from her true path. She usurps Emily’s (Amy Di Bartolomeo) place in Miranda’s favour, gets off with writer Christian (James Darch) in Paris and unwittingly gets drawn into a back-stabbing subplot that leads the company’s art director Nigel (Matt Henry) to the sacrificial altar. It is no doubt common knowledge, and therefore no spoiler, that Andy ultimately sees the error of her ways. Buckland’s anthemic closing number, ‘What’s Right for Me’, is a pure, belting, sparkling highlight of the show.

Vanessa Williams is made for the role of Miranda. Like the show itself she refuses to take herself seriously. It’s a devil of a role but Williams captures the joy that follows in the wake of the abuse she fires at her victims. A perverse concept, but she gets it right. Her entourage are all triple threats, adept at comic timing, precision dancing and gorgeous singing. The star of the show, though, is Buckland whose Andy is both impressionable and strong. For a West End debut, she astonishingly commands the stage with ease.

It is a large stage to fill. Tim Hatley’s scenic design is a filmic masterstroke that leads us from New York to Paris and back again; weaving through dressing rooms, offices, apartments and boulevards; swooping beneath an illuminated Eifel Tower with a perspective that throws the cityscapes way beyond the back wall. And, of course, this show would never get away with skimping on the costume budget. Gregg Barnes has pulled out all the stops (aided probably by a blank cheque). Our chins are left almost scraping the floor when the jaw-dropping spectacle of the Paris Fashion Week scene closes Act One.

“The Devil Wears Prada” is sumptuously staged under Jerry Mitchell’s slick direction and choreography. Style certainly wins over content – and it is deliciously cheesy. But taken with a pinch of salt the effect is elevating, intoxicating and warming. It does exactly what it is supposed to do. Within seconds of the opening number, we cease to question or care about the artistic choices. Who cares if it comes across slightly dated at times? Or that the characters are skin deep beneath their designer outfits. The show is a glorious triumph. A devilishly good night out. Go and see it.

Tag Archives: Recommended Show

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

★★★★

UK Tour

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

Theatre Royal Windsor

★★★★

“Tragedy and farce link arms and are not afraid to share the same lines of dialogue.”

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

Theatre Royal Windsor then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 29th January 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Alistair Muir

Previously reviewed at this venue:

FILUMENA | ★★★★ | October 2024

THE GATES OF KYIV | ★★★★ | September 2024

ACCOLADE | ★★★½ | June 2024

OH WHAT A LOVELY WAR | ★★★★ | April 2024

CLOSURE | ★★★★ | February 2024

THE GREAT GATSBY | ★★★ | February 2024

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF

🎭 A TOP SHOW IN NOVEMBER 2024 🎭

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA

★★★★★

Dominion Theatre

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA at the Dominion Theatre

★★★★★

“Crisp, dazzling, bold and brash”