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This Girl

This Girl – The Cynthia Lennon Story

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Upstairs at the Gatehouse

THIS GIRL – THE CYNTHIA LENNON STORY at Upstairs at the Gatehouse

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This Girl

“On paper, the show is well structured”

It is 1957. We are on Hope Street where an eighteen-year-old John Lennon meets and falls for fellow teen, Cynthia Powell. Danny and the Juniors are topping the charts; we are in the land of Double Diamond and Mackeson stout. When a round of drinks costs eight shillings. Looking on wistfully is Cynthia Lennon, the first wife of John Lennon, who takes us back to those innocent days when she was Cynthia Powell, and when John and Paul had only recently met, still unaware that they were soon to change musical history.

Cynthia (Roxanne Male) is the narrator, guiding – and guided by – the piece with the helping hand of hindsight. A story of love and loss, that centres around John Lennon, it spans their early years, Beatlemania, psychedelia, the break-up, the aftermath and finally Lennon’s assassination and beyond. It is a brave attempt to portray such a well-known and documented story, and a noble venture to push Cynthia centre stage. But like the reality itself, it is still John Lennon who pulls focus.

The focus is somewhat erratic, however, overindulging certain milestones while inadequately skimming others. The result is a somewhat shallow sketch show, the dialogue of which is poorly equipped to offer much insight into any of the characters involved. John Lennon (Marky Reader) is the most prominent victim of this shortcoming in a rather insulting portrayal. When he’s not a morose adolescent, he’s an inarticulate bully with barely enough empathy to even think about translating emotion into song. Which is just as well. The Lennon-McCartney catalogue doesn’t feature in this musical. Instead, there are eight new songs, written for the show by Frankie Connor, Alan Crowley and The Merseybeat’s Billy Kinsley.

The younger Cynthia, played by Emily Guilfoyle, lacks substance. But Guilfoyle manages to offer light and shade to the somewhat naΓ―ve text. Writing that barely hints at a personality that might have attracted the complicated Lennon. But then again, Mike Howl’s script annuls Lennon’s complexities with slogan superficiality. We get little idea, too, of the talent, or the camaraderie between Lennon and McCartney. In the absence of their songs, Howl, who also directs, circumvents any copyright issues by slipping familiar lyrics into the dialogue. Achieved with varying degrees of success, this neat device ranges from the witty to the contrived, with added inaccuracies for good measure (for the anoraks out there, β€˜Penny Lane’ is a McCartney – not a Lennon – composition).

Admittedly, this is Cynthia’s story, but it is strange that no mention is given to George or Ringo throughout, almost as if the history of popular music has been re-written and The Beatles were a duo. However, Stu Sutcliffe (Dominic Cummings) quite rightly makes an appearance. An immensely important personality in Lennon’s early life, the chemistry and rivalry are allowed to flicker across the stage, but all too soon snuffed out with a disrespectful and partially distorted depiction of Sutcliffe’s tragic death at the age of twenty-one.

Too many episodes are glossed over. Revelations about Brian Epstein’s (Kevin Thomas) homosexuality are cliched while Aunt Mimi (Geraldine Moloney Judge) is overly unsympathetic and dismissive towards Cynthia and John. Lee Clotworthy makes a late appearance as Julian Lennon, bringing a welcome depth of emotion hitherto lacking, as he grapples with the conflicting memories of his father. Musically, the show rarely strays from its one-note, acoustic guitar driven balladry. When Lennon isn’t crooning about his chip-bearing shoulders, Cynthia is lamenting the presence of Yoko.

On paper, the show is well structured, with an opportunity for a poignant finale as the younger and the older Cynthia unite onstage, both visualising their memories of Lennon from their differing perspectives. The potential is finally glimpsed, but it took a long time coming. And it’s probably still a fair way from being realised.


THIS GIRL – THE CYNTHIA LENNON STORY at Upstairs at the Gatehouse

Reviewed on 31st July 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Reader

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Forever Plaid | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2021
How To Build A Better Tulip | β˜…β˜… | November 2022

This Girl

This Girl

Click here to read all our latest reviews

 

How to Build a Better Tulip

How to Build a Better Tulip

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Upstairs at the Gatehouse

HOW TO BUILD A BETTER TULIP at the Upstairs at the Gatehouse

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How to Build a Better Tulip

Only the performance by Beth Burrows holds the whole thing together

 

To set the theme for the evening, the song Tulips from Amsterdam provides the somewhat tongue-in-cheek auditorium entry music, followed by other songs evoking buttercups and roses. Perhaps there is no available pop song concerning petunias as that would have been the other relevant flowery reference for this amiable comedy written and directed by Mark R Giesser.

A minimalist drab-coloured set (Designer Mollie Cheek) predominantly represents a greenhouse at the University of South Holland (Lincolnshire) where plant genetics are being researched. Faded tulip designs on delft tiles give a hint of historic Dutchness. A broadsheet notice on the wall informs us that a monetary prize of ten thousand guilders should be awarded to any person who succeeds in the breeding of a perfect Black Tulip. And therein lies the basis of the plot, loosely based on Alexandre Dumas’s novel The Black Tulip, and making reference to the historical tulipomania of seventeenth century Holland.

Splashes of colour appear as university researcher Audrey Braddock (Jill Greenacre) in red corduroys and amanuensis Sheila Crouch (Bryony Tebbutt) with yellow bobblehat, frenetically enter. Tebbutt displays youthful exuberance in a deliberate and delightfully quirky manner. Greenacre’s speedy and breathy delivery means some dialogue is sadly lost in this opening scene. We are introduced to Braddock’s daughter Perci (Beth Burrows) whose latest boyfriend is petunia researcher Adrian Vanderpol (Christopher Killik) and then things turn strange. Alone in her room, Braddock begins to talk to a voice in her head – Carolus Hoofdorn (Richard Lynson) a seventeenth century Dutch tulip enthusiast. Vanderpol too communicates with the voice in his head – Cornelia Vanderpol (Tebbutt again). And when everyone appears on stage together, the two Dutch puritans are able to talk to each other too. Nice period costumes here (Giulia Scrimieri) for the historical Dutch, less convincing accents.

As it appears, Braddock and Vanderpol – driven by the two ghosts in their heads – are covertly endeavouring to create the elusive black tulip, espionage is undertaken, Perci is involved with the FBI and honey-research, Carolus sporadically breaks out into folksong, Cornelia inexplicably cannot abide the songs of Elvis, Vanderpol is arrested for environmental terrorism and tulip bulbs are identified as the next potential WMD. It’s all rather a muddle.

The character of Sergeant Ellsworth, managed stolidly enough by Lynson, sums up the difficulty of the play; he is given neither the insight of a probing detective nor the comedic possibilities of a bumbling village Plod. Only the performance by Beth Burrows holds the whole thing together. With energy and fine expression she appears to understand and believe in all the shenanigans and provides a central performance to savour.


Perci tells us at one point, β€œIt all sounds more complicated than it needs to be” and I could almost hear the audience reply, β€œhear hear”.

 

Reviewed on 8th November 2022

by Phillip Money

Photography by Flavia Fraser-Cannon

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Forever Plaid | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2021

 

Click here to read all our latest reviews