Theatre review: She Loves Me

I started 2016 with a musical about a rather niche subject; I end the year on a more old-fashioned one that isn't strictly speaking formulaic - it became the formula for several Hollywood Rom-Coms. She Loves Me has a book by Joe Masteroff, music by Jerry Bock and lyrics by Sheldon Harnick, and takes its story from Hungarian play Parfumerie, about hate turning to love in the titular shop. Georg (Mark Umbers) is the perennially single deputy store manager who's resorted to a lonely hearts column, and has fallen for a woman he's been exchanging letters with. When one of the shop clerks leaves, her replacement Amalia (Scarlett Strallen) instantly annoys him by selling a music box he'd bet would be unsellable, and their relationship is fractious from then on. Needless to say, Amalia is actually the "Dear Friend" he's been writing to, and she feels the same way about his letters.

Theatre review: Candide (Menier Chocolate Factory)

Who'd have thought I'd be seeing a second show called Candide within a matter of months? What with Mark Ravenhill's "response" at the RSC, and the research that Ravenhill admitted was necessary before seeing it, I'm starting to feel very familiar with Voltaire's satire on optimism, despite never having read it. Raised on the philosophies of Pangloss, who teaches that this is the best of all possible worlds, therefore everything that happens must be for the best, Candide travels the world seeking his lost love Cunegonde. Beset by catastrophe after catastrophe, he blandly ascribes them all to the mysterious but necessary machinations of a benevolent god. The version of the story now being revived at the Menier Chocolate Factory is Leonard Bernstein's operetta, which has gone through a number of different versions over the years - the one used here is a 1988 text first staged by Scottish Opera, with book by Hugh Wheeler and lyrics by 70% of the earth's population.

Theatre review: A Chorus Line

My sister finally gets her Christmas present from me, in February. No, I'm not terribly neglectful (well I am but it's not relevant here,) she just wanted to wait until A Chorus Line opened, and I'm pretty sure she thought it was worth the wait. The (notorious flop) movie version was one of her favourite films growing up, and now the original musical returns to the West End, setting up shop at the Palladium. Marvin Hamlisch, Edward Kleban, James Kirkwood and Nicholas Dante's shows takes us behind the scenes of a big Broadway production, reminding us that behind the big-name stars there's a chorus, often having to blend into the background but each a person with their own story to tell.

Theatre review: Singin' in the Rain

A watery mini-theme at the theatre this week, although unlike last night there wasn't much fear of getting splashed in the second row of the Palace's balcony. (Though not marked as such on the ticket, these £25 seats certainly conform to the title of my blog. There's a lot of safety rail to look through, and in this case the busy bobbing heads of the people in front of us to negotiate around. You can't really see the steps at the front of the stage, but the production doesn't use them too much. If you don't mind having to lean forward and look through the gaps in the railings, you can see almost everything. The balcony's most disconcerting element is its proximity to the Independence Day flying saucer that makes up the ceiling and looks poised to attack.)

A previous adaptation of Singin' in the Rain at the Palladium was the first thing my sister saw on stage, and I'm told she demanded to be taken again straight away. So for an early birthday present Jonathan Church's Chichester production from last year, now arrived in London, seemed a good choice. I just hope the new leading man, Adam Cooper, is nicer to the backstage crew than his 1980s predecessor Tommy Steele, and they don't (allegedly) piss in his water tank before the big number.