LE GATEAU CHOCOLAT & JONNY WOO: A NIGHT AT THE MUSICALS – 90 YEARS OF DRAG! at the Soho Theatre
★★★★
“Woo transforms Singing in the Rain and Do-Re-Me into absolute filth”
Walking down Shaftsbury Avenue, you have the pick of pretty much any musical you could ever imagine from Les Misérables to Get Up Stand Up, a celebration of Bob Marley’s life and career. However, only a few minutes away at Soho Theatre, you can experience a hilarious medley of the genre’s greatest hits at Le Gateau Chocolat & Jonny Woo: A Night at the Musicals – 90 Years of Drag! A joint birthday extravaganza for ‘The French and Saunders of Drag’, the duo performs some of their favourite showtunes with varying degrees of faithfulness to the original lyrics and increasingly outrageous shenanigans and costumes.
There can be no expectations of how any song will be performed. All that Jazz – the show’s opener – is performed as intended (albeit with large inflatable hands) whilst Memories from Cats is remixed with My Neck, My Back and Eye of the Tiger (two songs about other types of cats). Woo transforms Singing in the Rain and Do-Re-Me into absolute filth whilst Sweet Transvestite has all the pizazz for which The Rocky Horror Picture Show is known. Most songs are sung live though a few are lip synced such as So Long, Farewell from the Sound of Music which is particularly amusing as deep-voiced Chocolat plays young Gretl’s part. Our stars are both given equal chance to shine in solos, but their chemistry is so strong that they are at their best on stage together.
Songs are occasionally introduced with a rambling story which ends with the song’s title which the duo describe as ‘a tenuous link’. Sweet Transvestite is introduced via an emotional tale of an old cross-dresser that Woo once knew whose dresses he has now come to own. Audience participation can be expected too though this is not just limited to singing along – some will be delighted to be part of a brief performance of the Time Warp.
As to be expected, the costumes are fabulous and playful. The audience is treated to seemingly endless costume changes – including a sequined playsuit from Boohoo Luxe – and at the end of one song Woo ends up completely naked.
The set is bare – a banner saying ‘MUSICALS’ hangs at the back and light strips, a disco ball, smoke and fans do the rest. However, our two stars are simply so captivating that it is barely noticeable and the empty stage in fact allows for ample space for them to dance and move around. They do not limit themselves to the stage either, at times changing costumes at the side of the stalls in full view of the audience. Chocolat also performs a delicate rendition of Hopelessly Devoted to You here and is none the less brilliant because of it.
Woo and Chocolat advertise a performance of every single musical hit from the past 90 years, an impossible task. What they do deliver is fantastic, even if there are notable exclusions to the song sheet. Woo and Gateau’s charisma is unmatched, and you will find yourself beaming and wanting to get up on your feet throughout. If you’re a fan of musicals, drag and debauchery, this is the show for you.
“It’s a sunny outlook on a very bleak landscape, but somehow it does the trick”
After singing along to two choruses of ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ with writer-performer Sam Ward and the rest of the audience, my theatre buddy takes her arm from around my shoulders as the lights go up, turns to me, and, smiling blissfully, says, “I didn’t get it.” That’s almost as much as you need to know really.
We Were Promised Honey! is a calmly conveyed confusion: In August 2018 a baggage handler, Richard, stole a plane and, after performing some amazing stunts, inevitably died on crash landing. Ward interlaces this with some very controlled audience participation, and long surreal monologues about what will happen after the play is finished- in five hours most of you will be asleep, in eight hours, one of you will send an email saying, ‘Great, thanks Claire’ before walking into your boss’s office and quitting to become a farmer. In fifty years, one of you will think you’re Jesus. In 500 years, when the sky turns black, one of you will turn to your partner and say, ‘Why does it always end like this?’
The evening is split into three, and before the start of each section, Ward gives his audience a choice: We can sit here in silence until the advertised runtime of the show is over, or, even though you already know it’s going to end badly, you can hear what happens next. I can’t imagine there’s ever been an audience so hive-minded and strong-willed not to say ‘I would like to know what happens next’ so it’s not much of a risk, but it makes the point Ward is, I think, trying to make: Yes, we are all going to die, and the world will eventually end, and one day the last black hole will eat itself and there will be nothing left. But in the meantime, there’s plenty to see and do and say, and we needn’t sit in silence, waiting for the end to come.
It’s a sunny outlook on a very bleak landscape, but somehow it does the trick, and rather than feeling despairing and solemn, the audience leaves the auditorium heartened, in an almost festival atmosphere. Of course, that might not be Ward’s point at all, and maybe I just didn’t get it. But paired with David Doyle’s seemingly godly lighting, Carmel Smickersgill’s contemplative soundscape, and Ward’s smiling self-assuredness, it doesn’t really matter how it’s supposed to end. The point is I enjoyed the journey.
