“grabs you by the cheeks, pulling them out into the widest smile“
With a backdrop of tall slender trees silhouetted against a mist of dusky blue light, sits a solitary tent. There is an Englishness that removes the location as far away as possible from the fictitious Japanese town of Titipu, further emphasized by the main characters being renamed as though they have all wandered in from a ‘Jeeves and Wooster’ story. There is no discernible reason for the resetting, but it is immediately clear that this is going to be lot of fun indeed. With lashings of laughs. Sasha Regan’s all-male “The Mikado”, which first toured in 2017, is a topsy-turvy romp that, despite having only one tent as the central scenic prop, is as camp as a whole row of them.
Kimonos and fans are replaced by baggy shorts and cricket bats in a world where Enid Blyton has collaborated with Morecambe and Wise. As inventive as it is confusing, at least it has done away with the cutesy but dated and potentially disrespectful Japanese monikers. Nanki-Poo, the Mikado’s estranged son disguised as a wandering minstrel, is now Bertie Hugh. Central love interest Yum-Yum becomes Miss Plumb. Pooh-Bah is Albert Barr, Pish-Tush, Wilfred Lush… well, you get the drift. Except that the town’s name is left intact. Here, in Titipu (‘titter ye not’, boys and girls) it has been decreed by the Mikado (Lewis Kennedy) that all flirting is punishable by death. His son and heir, Bertie Hugh (Declan Egan) has fled to escape an arranged marriage to Kitty Shaw (Christopher Hewitt). Disguised as a wandering minstrel, Bertie returns to court his true love Miss Violet Plumb (Sam Kipling), only to discover she is betrothed to Mr Cocoa (David McKechnie) the High Executioner.
A fairly conventional basis for the farcical plot twists that unravel from it. Boy loves girl. Both are unhappily betrothed to others. Yet the fanciful and completely loopy laws of Titipu add spice to the conundrum. Unrequited love is one thing – being buried alive or beheaded is another thing entirely. It is highly enjoyable and highly silly in equal measure. Even if the 1950s scout-camp setting doesn’t necessarily have a point, the updating and adaptation of W. S. Gilbert’s libretto is ingeniously witty and clever. But what brings this production to vivid life is the performances from a superbly talented company. Led by Musical Director Anto Buckley on piano, Arthur Sullivan’s score is held in high respect and delivered beautifully by this all-male ensemble. They instinctively know the nuances and can marry the comedy with the emotional force required by the compositions.
The beauty of Buckley’s solo piano accompaniment allows the voices to shine; undiluted, unadulterated and unenhanced by technical wizardry. Sam Kipling’s solo – the gorgeous ‘The Sun, Whose Rays are All Ablaze” is a shimmering example, with not a false note to the falsetto. David McKechnie’s scheming, wide boy Mr Cocoa belies a purity of voice, as does Declan Egan’s bumbling Bertie. Christopher Hewitt’s jilted Kitty Shaw is rich in tone and comic flair, particularly during his solo, ‘Alone, and yet Alive’. When the company all comes together in harmony the effect is mesmerising: a gorgeous juxtaposition of virtuoso singing with the spirit of burlesque.
The book contains many of the stock paradoxes and Catch-22 quandaries inherent in Gilbert and Sullivan’s works. Regan’s setting is a little conflicting and confusing, but once you’ve accepted it, the joy of this fun-filled production reaches out and grabs you by the heart. It also grabs you by the cheeks, pulling them out into the widest smile. Sometimes it feels as though the cast are enjoying themselves a little too much. However, it always feels as though the audience are enjoying it more.
“The action plays and replays in LJ’s bar – Justin Williams’ impressive centrepiece – with the six strong cast giving fine acting performances”
We are in LJ’s bar. It is 7pm on Monday 14th (the month is unspecified). For the next two and a half hours it is 7pm on Monday 14th six times. One day is played out in the lives of the six characters, each time from their own perspective. It is a clever idea. Everything has changed and nothing has changed. There are inevitably going to be comparisons to ‘Groundhog Day’, but “Tasting Notes” owes more to Alan Ayckbourn’s ‘Norman Conquests’ trilogy. With perhaps a touch of ‘Sliding Doors’ thrown in. As we witness the action from the various mind’s eyes, the full picture is slowly revealed. Unfortunately, too slowly.
LJ (Nancy Zamit) runs the bar. She lives in the bar, invariably sleeping there overnight. She loves it, but she tires of it and there is nothing else. Not so for her staff. A waitress is never just a waitress. Maggie (Charlie Ryall – who also co-wrote the book and lyrics with composer Richard Baker) serves drinks in between going off to another soul-destroying audition. Her torch burns for her colleague Oliver (Niall Ransome). Despite the mutual attraction, Oliver is more anxious to get home to his cat (never trust a cat person!). Eszter (Wendy Morgan) spends more time cleaning up after her wayward son than she does washing the dirty glasses. George (Sam Kipling) doesn’t let little things like punctuality get in the way of his extracurricular activities. If only he would set his watch to regular customer, Joe (Stephen Hoo), who’s through the door at opening time, ready to drink away his memories.
The action plays and replays in LJ’s bar – Justin Williams’ impressive centrepiece – with the six strong cast giving fine acting performances. Ryall has an ear for dialogue, which flows naturally; the initial mundanity belying the subsequent significance and dark twists. Baker has a similar way with words, crafting some clever lyrics into the dozen or so songs that flesh out the book. But the show needs condensing rather than fattening up. However good the concept may be, rewinding half a dozen times really starts to dilute the effect, and the ideas lose their taste. We feel like we’re watching a drama game, or some serious ‘actioning’ in the rehearsal room.
The second act does drag, until the dark, unexpected twist jolts us. We wish we could have reached it much sooner, despite the welcome distraction of lesser revelations on the way. This is a work in progress; or a pitch. Except that we are being given the whole menu instead of a taste of what it could be. There is a lot left on the plate, which goes to waste. Ryall’s script is clever, but there are too many notes that cloud the overall flavour. And one questions the decision as to why it needed to be a musical (although everything seems to be a musical nowadays). Baker’s score, more of a song cycle, matches the craftmanship of his lyricism but is too easy on the ear. And the cast, despite their solid grip on the language and characterisation of the piece, invariably find the musical demands beyond their grasp. Which is surprising at a venue noted for the quality of its musical theatre.
“Tasting Notes” has shades of “Friends” or “Cheers”, although with more contrast: it can be funnier, and it certainly gets darker. But ultimately it feels like you’re being talked into having one more for the road; when you’ve already had enough.
Reviewed by Jonathan Evans
Photography by Chris Marchant
Tasting Notes
Southwark Playhouse until 27th August
Take a look at some other shows previously reviewed at this venue:
