MERRILY WE ROLL ALONG
‘Musical comedies aren’t written, they are rewritten,’ Stephen Sondheim has said. It certainly applies to his wonderful Merrily We Roll Along, a flop on Broadway, which closed after 16 performances in 1981. Since then it has been endlessly rewritten, revised and, finally, rehabilitated if, ultimately, at some personal cost: Sondheim never again worked with George Furth who wrote the book. These days however, to borrow one of its own lines: ‘It’s the sound of a hit’.
You can’t fault the sound of Maria Friedman’s revival at the Menier Chocolate Factory. Friedman knows the piece inside out and backwards, which is a particular advantage for a story that begins in the 1980s and rolls back to the 1950s, over which time youthful ideals become soured, and seemingly indissoluble friendships erode.
One of the reasons, apparently, that audiences didn’t warm to the show initially was the unsympathetic nature of Frank, the composer who cashes in on his ideals and his partnership with lyricist, Charley. Mark Umbers solves the problem. He’s very, very attractive, for a start. More importantly, he captures the egotism and the shallowness, that some exceptionally gifted, successful people have. Damian Humbley brings a real decency to Charley, a man whose word is his bond, which is quite a thing for a lyricist.
Their old friend Mary, Jenna Russell, is superb, her drunken repartee doing nothing to disguise her heartbreak, the result of her unrequited devotion for Frank.
The show is stuffed with fabulous songs, Old Friends and Not A Day Goes By, sung first as a bitter tirade, then at the end as a love song bursting with promise, and witty dialogue to be learnt by rote. ‘What do you do?’ a guy asks Mary at the party in the opening scene. ‘I drink,’ says Mary. ‘No, what do you really do?’ he says. ‘I really drink,’ sways Mary.
Alas, though, Friedman’s revival is less easy on the eye than it is on the ear. The reverse chronology offers a golden opportunity to celebrate and send up the fashions of the 1970s, the 1960s and finally, the 1950s. Designer Soutra Gilmour brings the 1960s to monochrome mini-dressed life, but the other decades are hit and miss. Some characters change neither their shoes nor their hairstyles in 40 years. One has met people like that – but never in Manhattan.
Until 9 March at the Menier Chocolate Factory, 53 Southwark Street, London SE1: 020-7378 1713, www.menierchocolatefactory.com
You can’t fault the sound of Maria Friedman’s revival at the Menier Chocolate Factory. Friedman knows the piece inside out and backwards, which is a particular advantage for a story that begins in the 1980s and rolls back to the 1950s, over which time youthful ideals become soured, and seemingly indissoluble friendships erode.
One of the reasons, apparently, that audiences didn’t warm to the show initially was the unsympathetic nature of Frank, the composer who cashes in on his ideals and his partnership with lyricist, Charley. Mark Umbers solves the problem. He’s very, very attractive, for a start. More importantly, he captures the egotism and the shallowness, that some exceptionally gifted, successful people have. Damian Humbley brings a real decency to Charley, a man whose word is his bond, which is quite a thing for a lyricist.
Their old friend Mary, Jenna Russell, is superb, her drunken repartee doing nothing to disguise her heartbreak, the result of her unrequited devotion for Frank.
The show is stuffed with fabulous songs, Old Friends and Not A Day Goes By, sung first as a bitter tirade, then at the end as a love song bursting with promise, and witty dialogue to be learnt by rote. ‘What do you do?’ a guy asks Mary at the party in the opening scene. ‘I drink,’ says Mary. ‘No, what do you really do?’ he says. ‘I really drink,’ sways Mary.
Alas, though, Friedman’s revival is less easy on the eye than it is on the ear. The reverse chronology offers a golden opportunity to celebrate and send up the fashions of the 1970s, the 1960s and finally, the 1950s. Designer Soutra Gilmour brings the 1960s to monochrome mini-dressed life, but the other decades are hit and miss. Some characters change neither their shoes nor their hairstyles in 40 years. One has met people like that – but never in Manhattan.
Until 9 March at the Menier Chocolate Factory, 53 Southwark Street, London SE1: 020-7378 1713, www.menierchocolatefactory.com