THE COLOR PURPLE

I get terribly cross with critics who review the audience instead of the show. If one was to judge a production by the decibels or length of its standing ovation, particularly on opening night when the house is filled with investors, supporters and any number of freeloaders, then I would have to report that Charlie And The Chocolate Factory is a massive hit which will run and run. The truth is that it’s a disappointing and mediocre miss. Ditto The Book Of Mormon, which is one quite funny but wildly overextended good joke in bad taste. But neither is in the same league as, say, Billy Elliot or War Horse, both examples of inspired, boundary-breaking theatre.

And yet, it would be dishonest not to report the warm and thunderous ovation received by the cast of The Color Purple in that tiny theatrical powerhouse, the Menier Chocolate Factory. It wasn’t a polite reflex, but a spontaneous and stamping response to the infectiously joyful spirit of the piece.

Alice Walker’s 1982 novel, as many will know (including those studying it as a GCSE set text), is the story of 14-year-old Celie, a victim of the patriarchal society in the segregated American South. Routinely raped, her children taken from her, she is married off to the brutal Mister who carries and uses a hunting whip, and treats poor Celie as a household slave. But for Celie, being separated from her sister Nettie is a far greater cruelty.

Marsha Norman’s book for the musical inevitably but forgivably overcompresses and oversimplifies the original and while not omitting the more wretched bits, certainly accentuates the positive. Which is possibly why John Doyle’s staging in what might be a chapel, on scrubbed painted boards with only church chairs for props, feels in the end like a joyous hymn of praise. That, combined with the abundance of glorious gospel music, which is woven through a score that unashamedly flirts with soul, blues and pop.

As Celie’s friend, Shug the singer (the marvellous Nicola Hughes), who becomes her not wholly convincing lesbian lover, says, ‘God take his time getting round to you, I admit!’ But get there He does, albeit in a bit of a rush, which has one taking for granted rather miraculous conversions of character.

Never mind, Cynthia Erivo couldn’t be more persuasive as the cowed young Celie (‘You’re black, you’re ugly, you’re a woman’) who not only learns to say ‘Hell, no’ from plucky Sofia, but finds her own voice, finds love and finds her own sense of worth: ‘I’m beautiful and I’m here,’ she says, transformed. And when she sings, she blows the roof off the theatre.

Until 14 September at Menier Chocolate Factory, Southwark Street, London SE1: 0207-378 1713, www.menierchocolatefactory.com