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Angela Unbound is playing as part of the London Fringe Festival.

This is the first of it’s problems.

Why the organisers decided to run a fringe festival in London simultaneously to not only Edinburgh’s far more popular fringe, but also to the much closer Camden Fringe Festival, I’m not entirely sure. This may explain why there were only seven people in the small basement theatre of Leicester Square Theatre, including members of the production team and three reviewers.

The other explanation could be the play itself.

Angela Unbound is a new work from William Whitehurst and tells the story of Frenchman Charles Duprey (Peter Glover) and his attempts to persuade renowned American author Daniel McBain (Jonathan Hansler) to let him translate his book, about a girlfriend (Ewa Jaworski) who happens to be with him in Paris.

Actually, story is a rather strong word to use for Angela Unbound. What is performed for 50 odd minutes is more a snapshot of a moment, allowing for very little character or exposition. It’s a shame, really, because there is some great talent in this show that almost make this an enjoyable 50 minutes, but not quite. Hansler’s American author is thoroughly unlikeable in a Billy Bob Thornton meets Johnny Depp in Fear and Loathing (or is it Jim Carrey) kind of way. Similarly, Glover as the caricatured Frenchman does an admirable job of acting a character with little depth and a profuse sweating problem. Jaworski as McBain’s muse is definitely the weakest of the three. However, I’m not entirely sure whether this is the fault of bad writing, bad direction or plain old bad acting, as she really isn’t given much to work with.

The production itself is nothing. It’s the kind of show you leave after less than an hour and after the same amount of time, you’ve practically forgotten everything. It may be harsh, but I left Leicester Square Theatre feeling absolutely nothing, which to me is sometimes worse than downright hatred.

At least that would produce some kind of passion.

Angela Unbound is playing at the Leicester Square Theatre as part of the London Fringe Festival until 29th August.

My first introduction to Edgar Allen Poe was at a relatively early age. In our house we had a weighty tome that housed the entire collection of Poe’s stories and poetry. I remember as an 8 year old asking to be read one of the stories, choosing the Pit and the Pendulum, thinking it sounded a delightful romp with clocks and ditches.

I’m fairly certain I didn’t sleep for a week.

However, my interest in Poe was sparked and I continued to read his work, first focusing on his beautiful, morose poetry and then later visiting his gruesome stories. His unique style of American Gothic had me hooked and scripted my love for all things in the style, from the films of Tim Burton to the music of the Dresden Dolls.

Add to this my unhealthy love of musical theatre, and you can understand my excitement at the prospect of Canadian troupe, Catalyst Theatre’s ‘Nevermore: The Imaginary Life and Mysterious Death of Edgar Allen Poe.’ To say that the story is Poe’s life would be lying. To say that Poe’s life informed the story would be more accurate, as they weave fiction, fact and fantasy to recreate Poe’s sad life on stage from the aspect of his twisted, macabre mind, set to a score drawing from musical theatre, vaudeville, folk and Weimar cabaret.

To say I enjoyed this show is somewhat of an understatement. In fact, it’s akin to saying that World War II was a minor argument. Everything about this show fit together like clockwork and resulted in an inspiring, wonderful, dark, witty, amazing play. I could sit here and think of another hundred or so adjectives to describe it, but that would just be time wasting.

The sets worked beautifully with the action, with a dark, Victorian chintz style scrim over a bare metal frame that featured three opening and closing doorways. Whether it be characters leaping into the darkness through an open door, monsters behind the scrim, half obscured and in shadow, or ghastly hands protruding from a doorway with the rattling, sinister sound of consumption scoring the action, the way the play interacted with the set was simply genius. I also have that I am a sucker for lighting that is almost as important as the set. The atmospheric lighting, always painting shadows over the actors, was simply beautiful and played an integral part in the horrors onstage. In fact, I think this is the first time I’ve seen horror effectively done on the stage. Notably, his mother screaming in her coffin, the return of his mother with her claw like hands and the raven will possibly make those nightmares I had as a child return.

The cast were all phenomenal, embodying the twisted figures in Poe’s life perfectly. However, the standout was Poe himself. His movement, voice and demanour suited the character so perfectly that I can’t imagine anybody else ever doing that part as well. His flawless, clean and beautiful high tenor voice sent chills up your spine in the few times he was allowed the opportunity to sing. The costumes were amazing, which you can see on countless production photos, and fit the piece perfectly. However, one of the absolute standout aspects of Nevermore was the choreography. The precise, simple movements that seem a mixture of contemporary dance, mime and buko, give every character a puppet-like quality that, as Lyn Gardner mentioned, seem to suggest that fate, not free will, is guiding these characters along.

It’s rare that you leave a theatre feeling like you’ve seen something before it gets huge. I seriously hope that this is the case for Nevermore, as it deserves to be as big a cult hit as something like Nightmare Before Christmas, that it firmly sits in the same genre as.

Hell, they even got a standing ovation out of me, the second in my life. The first was for Stephen Sondheim. Enough said.

Nevermore is playing at the Barbican Theatre until July 10. I’m hoping it comes back to London soon, as nowhere near enough people saw it.

After the agony that was Michael Clark’s Come, Been and Gone, I’ll be honest when I say I was not looking forward to Cia de Danca Deborah Colker’s Cruel. My brain concluded that it was probably a wanky Cuban dance piece from Cuba, combining a whole bunch of dance styles I have never particularly likes (latin dance just doesn’t do it for me) with contemporary dance and packaging it in a celebration of cruelty. Hip hip hooray.

If only you could write sarcasm.

I even allowed a little extra time before the show to throw down a few G&Ts to make sure I was in as cynical mood as possible. When the curtain rose on Cruel I realise I was grossly misinformed. This was not a wanky art dance piece. My brain was wrong. Thanks, brain.

Cruel is a collection of responses to difficult personal experiences from the cast and production team, focussing around a group of words. The choreographer and assistant choreographer presentedthe cast with very broad ideas, and then privately interviewed them on difficult experiences they’d had that relate to these broad concepts. The dancers then lived through these experiences again through a mixture of Latin, traditional and contemporary dance, with sometimes cathartic, sometimes disturbing results. However, the individual stories aren’t what’s important here, as the Choreographer’s Assistant states in the program, “What you see is not a soap opera, not a play. This is dancing. The stories are there so they may be understood by each viewer, in their own particular way.”

What’s important in this show is the feeling that you get sitting in the audience, watching these people contort and move in ways I wasn’t sure was possible with the human body. The passion and the feeling they convey through the entire show is phenomenal. Also, what’s core through the entire show is the quality. The dance is fluid, beautiful and full of true feeling and the dancers are all completely flawless. The choreography does an amazing job of conveying themes and stories, the sets are simple and perfect, with the table in the first act acting as a perfect piece to centre the action around, and the collection of mirrors a perfect representation of the themes present in the second act.

My relationship with modern dance seems to have improved through Cruel. Maybe it’s just that I don’t like bad modern dance.

Cruel is playing at the Barbican until July 3

This is theatre I love.

Everything Must Go is an original piece by Kristin Fredricksson that is nothing more than an homage to her father. Orginally written for both her and her father, Karl Fredricksson, to perform, Everything Must Go is a celebration of an extraordinarily complex, brilliant, funny and sometimes slightly insane man through theatre, multimedia, puppetry, dance and sound. It is, at it’s heart, a chronicle of his life and testament to the amount of love that  his daughter holds for him.

As a piece of theatre, Everything Must Go has flaws. It’s structure is a little muddled, with some sections going on for far longer than they should, and others getting the briefest of glances. There are moments where you question the narrative style chose for the segment, propped up against others where its a perfect synergy of theatrical styles. However, none of this matters much, as it feels as if this is intentional to mirror her father’s life. Some bits are only glimpses, whereas others are ran out until it’s exhausted. Also, the story itself is so heartfelt and charming that it smooths over the flaws in the piece.

Fredricksson as an actor isn’t the strongest I’ve ever seen, but nobody else could, or for that matter should, perform this piece.

It truly is a masterpiece, and no amount of adjectives on my part can do it justice. If you’re not a sentimental person, this might not be for you. However, if you are then this could just be the thing you’re looking for.

Everything Must Go is playing at the Barbican until the 26 June

I have come to admire The National for their ability to put on a show with such effort, vigour and production values, that it can be easy to ignore the fact that the play is, quite frankly, crap. These are the reservations I came with when I saw Welcome to Thebes last Wednesday night. After all, it’s a new work, based on other works, which, if Nation is anything  to go by, doesn’t bode well.

Welcome to Thebes is a modern retelling of the story of Creon. However, you wouldn’t recognize it because playwright Moira Buffini has replaced Creon with his historically mute wife, Eurydice. She has also planted in some additional characters from the Theban backstory of Oedipus and some post-glory, post-story Theseus to mix it up a bit. Take all this, mix it in a blender and throw it up in contemporary, war-torn Africa and you have Welcome to Thebes. Surprisingly, it’s done quite well. The stories mix well and make an obvious parallel to African/Middle Eastern – American relations, commenting heavily on the notions of war, class and society. Buffini handles it all quite well, with a nice mix of humour and drama, even sneaking in the odd Oedipus joke.

The actors are all commendable, doing a good job with the characters. There are a few exceptions, with some far weaker than others,  but the overall quality more than compensates. David Harewood as Theseus, Nikki Amuka-Bird as Eurydice and Jacqueline Defferary as Talthybia are standouts. However, it’s Madeline Appiah as Megaera who stole the show for me. Her intensity, mixed with her brilliant talent for comedy, culminated into one of the most enjoyable and disturbing performances in the show. One interesting casting choice, as pointed out by a fellow blogger, was Alexia Khadime as the surprisingly mute Harmonia, better known recently as the much larger role of Elphaba in Wicked. Sure enough, by the end of the night they made full use of her voice with a few hauntingly beautiful melodies driftig above the action.

The production values, as always with The National, are fantastically high. The set, a crumbling African palace complete with stormy sky, worked beautifully, and the ‘appearance’ of a helicopter was brilliantly achieved, only bettered by Mr Mackintosh in Miss Saigon.

Overall, it was a rather enjoyable evening. The script was in need of slight editing, with the finale running on past the obvious closing point and providing a little too much closure, as pointed out by my theatre partner. Hopefully, considering this was preview week, they’ll work this out and make the relevent editing before it officially opens on the 22nd. Still, Welcome to Thebes is a welcome change from the oh so boring Women Beware Women.

Welcome to Thebes is playing at the Olivier Theatre at The National Theatre until 19 August.

Come, been and gone can officially be added to the list of things I don’t get. Michael Clark is seen as a visionary in the contemporary dance world, and this celebration of his work over the past 25 years has recieved rave reviews from some respectable critics. Some of the quotes have included “shockingly good,” “A thunderous electrifying evening of attention-seeking sound, stimulating visuals, and impressive fine-tuned focused dancers,” and “‘Come, been and gone’ blew our tiny minds“ . My take is that it’s a bloated, pretentious, wanky dance piece. I should also point out that I can only justify reviewing two thirds of the production as I left at the second interval.

Frankly, I was bored.

I think this comes down to the fact that modern dance and I seem to not get along. While some people see modern pieces of art, reflecting the harsh nature of existence in a postmodern, 21st century world, I see a lady in a mirror ball body stocking flailing around on stage. Sure, I can’t pigeonhole a very large, diverse area of dance, but it’s this arts for arts sake style of modern dance that I abhor. To me it lacks feeling and connection, and seems so hell bent on making a statement that they forget that they look like a pretentious bunch of twats leaping around the stage like idiots.

Sure, the dancers were clearly all at the top of their game. Hand selected as the best from Michael Clark’s company, they perform his work with the utmost precision. However, it’s not the dancers I had a problem with, it was the dance. Also, the sound designer deserved to be shot. In Swamp, the first section of the show, it sounded as if the composer/sound designer had just learnt how to use sequencing software and threw every effect at the track to make it sound like Aphex Twin, but failing. Terribly.The treatment given to The Velvet Underground was similarly shocking, with tracks pushed to the point of distortion with no other reason apart from the fact it’s ‘edgy’.

If you’re already a fan of Michael Clark’s work then you could possibly enjoy this. However, if you’re already a fan you’ve already seen it and stopped at the first paragraph. If you’re not then the show was beautifully summed up by my company for the night:

‘flicky leg, flicky leg. Chicken wing, chicken wing. Person dressed as a disco ball.’

Come, been and gone is playing at the Barbican until 12 June

I chanced upon Daniel Kitson about 5 years ago at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival and loved his brand of self deprecating, slightly offensive humour. Since then I’ve seen his stand-up shows a number of times and he’s climbed higher and higher up my favourite comics list. So, when I heard that a few years ago he had all but stopped his stand-up, and instead had started writing and performing theatre pieces that were basically an hour and a half monologues, I was a little worried. I finally got the chance to see one of these and suffice it to say, there was nothing to worry about.

66a Church Rd is the story of Kitson’s relationship with a flat in London (Crystal Palace to be exact) over the course of about ten years. From the initial renting period, to the long, drawn out attempt to buy the place, to the sad goodbye. With this subject matter, there could be a chance that this is about as exciting as watching paint dry. However, Kitson is a master storyteller, weaving in a good amount of pathos and humour to help an already interesting story along. It’s easy for most people, and I’m guessing everyone who goes to see him live, to relate to Kitson’s stories. They are every-day stories that could happen to anyone, but his delivery and the insights he offers inside his head raises this to something that feels familiar, but completely enthralling at the same time.

The brilliance in 66a Church Rd is how the story is constructed. When Kitson is speaking, he is talking solely about his connection and his time spent in his flat, and his relationship with his landlord. That is, he reveals little about what actually happened in the flat; the relationships formed and broken, the friendships grown and cultivated, his career and life otherwise. Instead, when the lights go down between the ‘chapters’ of 66a Church Rd, we are treated to small voiceover snippets of this personal history from his time in the flat. Completely out of context, and with no point of reference, they act as a crack, which you can peer through and get a fleeting glimpse of how he actually lived in the flat.

This is also where the brilliant set comes in.

Kitson is alone on stage, surrounded by a mountain of old suitcases. This, he tells us towards the end, is a fragment of his life after 66a Church Rd. He lived out of suitcases in various countries for a year or so, but never truly left Church Rd. During the voiceovers, small rooms are lit within these suitcases, revealing achingly beautiful miniature models of various rooms and aspects of Church Rd that act as a perfect metaphor for the tiny glimpse we are getting of Kitson’s life.

My only regret was not getting enough sleep the night before seeing this. Kitson’s voice and style of storytelling lull you into a relaxed state that can easily see you nodding off after 90 minutes. This was only remedied by Kitson himself almost fainting onstage and having to be revived with emergency Jaffa Cakes from the balcony.

While you don’t get to see the razor sharp wit that won Daniel Kitson the Perrier Award in 2002, 66a Church Rd is a slightly twee but remarkably enjoyable theatrical piece of storytelling. If you get a chance, I definitely suggest catching this before he heads to Edinburgh.

66a Church Rd is playing at the New Players Theatre until the 13th ofJune.

I am vexed by my problems as a theatre blogger (first world problems, anyone?). I keep seeing shows that I have a previous attachment to and judging them, sometimes unfairly, as a result. Once again, it has happened. I wish I could unsee the production of Tick, Tick… Boom! at the Zenith Theatre in Sydney that I saw a few years ago. I also wish I could unlisten to the brilliant Raul Esparza singing the role of Jon on the cd. If both of these things happened, I’m certain I could’ve enjoyed this production a whole lot more.

Tick, Tick… Boom! Is Jonathan Larson’s other work. While RENT at least made it to workshop stages before his untimely death, Tick Tick was pieced together after the fact from a wholly unfinished work. It is an autobiography of sorts and tells the story of Jon, a struggling composer who is trying to write the next great American musical. Surprisingly, it came out being, in my opinion, the far superior creation. Sure, there are a few naff songs, but for the most part the music is great, the dialogue snappy and the lyrics touching, funny and poignant.

The cast in this production are all incredibly talented performers. Ashley Campbell has had fantastic reviews in his other roles in Little Fish and Rat Pack. Leanne Jones has won an Olivier for her portrayal of Tracy Turnblad in Hairspray. The problem is, I feel they are a little misplaced. In fact, the only one who seems to sit in his role comfortably is Adam Rhys-Davies, the relative unknown, as Michael. Jon is a character that requires subtlety, or at least that is something that has been drummed into me by previous productions I’ve experienced. Unfortunately, Campbell didn’t quite capture this subtlety, and managed to over-perform the role just a tad. He put so much emotion into songs like ‘Why’, that we ended up losing a lot of the meaning behind the song. I can’t deny that he is an extremely strong actor, but he just didn’t seem right for Jon.

Leanne Jones does an admirable job of Susan, as well as the slew of bit characters that both her and Rhys-Davies are required to play. Her voice is very impressive and she sings the balls off all of her numbers. However, she seemed a little out of sorts with the character of Susan. Her performance felt slightly hesitant, which detracted slightly. However, this could’ve easily been due to it being early in the run, and the Union is a very different theatre to somewhere like the Shaftesbury (Instead of at least 10 metres between you and the audience, there is at best maybe 3, at worst about 10 centimetres). I think she’ll settle into the role a lot more during the run. Adam Rhys-Davies did a great job as Michael, especially considering it’s the least fleshed out character. Even if the character didn’t have as much stage time as he perhaps should have, Rhys-Davies made an impression on me every single time he was on stage.

Damien Sandys did a great job with staging this production, keeping up a good pace and hitting some really nice moments with some of the songs, notably during ‘Sunday’ and ‘Therapy’. It’s not an easy show to move along, as it’s fairly heavy on dialogue and relies on the actor’s carrying it without glitz or pretension. The stripping down of the music to just a piano worked well, although I did miss the drums and guitar of the original recording, especially in songs like ‘Therapy’ and ’30/90′.

Overall, It’s a reasonably enjoyable production of a musical that isn’t performed all that often (even if it was done in London last year). I would recommend anyone go and see it, but only if you’re a little more open than me with interpretation. The actors are all fantastic performers. However, I just didn’t feel that they were all the right performers…

Tick, tick… boom! is playing at the Union Theatre until the 5th of June

Peter Pan was always one of my favourite stories as a child. Who am I kidding, It’s still one of my favourite stories. The pirates, the sword fights, the mermaids, the fairies… It’s a camp straight man’s dream. The wish to never grow up is something that I still cling on to now. I’m in my mid twenties and I still occasionally rock out with a Bob the Builder wrist watch. Why would anyone want to grow up? According to Peter Pan, a world in which you never grow up is a world where magic exists, where fights never result in injury or death (unless you’re a bad guy) and where you can fly. Between Peter Pan, Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland, I’m sitting somewhere in my ideal world.

I don’t want to live in David Greig’s Neverland.

This production, adapted from the original by David Greig for National Theatre of Scotland, has been reimagined slightly. First off, the obvious points. No longer are we in London. Instead, we have been transported to Victorian Edinburgh and the building of the Forth Bridge. However, it’s not just the location and the accents that have changed. With the move to Scotland, comes a much darker play than the original. This isn’t for kiddies any more. First off, Pan isn’t the cheerful, naive character from the Disney film. Instead we have a clear reference to Pan, the Greek god of mischief, with his animal-skin shorts and his horned hairdo. Similarly, Captain Hook is no longer a stereotypical ostentatious pirate. Instead, we have a more local idea of a pirate, a ruthless, menacing, skinheaded, heavily tattooed ruffian. This is the kind of man you would not want to meet in a dark alley. In fact, the only characters that have transferred relatively intact are Michael, John and Wendy, with the rest shedding their caricatured state and adopting more realistic, human and ultimately flawed characters. The closest comparison you could draw in style is probably Lord of the Flies.

Overall, this production of Peter Pan is quite dark, visually and thematically. The lighting very rarely fills the stage, and is quite often made to make it seem like Scotland very rarely sees the sun (No sun in the UK? Really?), something that West End Whingers seem to dislike slightly. I, on the other hand, loved the effect this had. The colour palette and the dank mood lighting set the tone perfectly. It made it very apparent that this time we weren’t watching Disney. Thematically, it starts off on a similar path to the original. These boys are lost and therefore won’t grow up. Tinkerbell is jealous of Wendy. Hook wants Pan dead. I’m comfortable with this, I know this. Sure, there are a few nods to adult(ish) humour, my personal favourite being Peter’s rather male-bravado infused ‘They’re my gang‘ to impress Wendy, but for the most part this is still Peter Pan. After the first act, however, things change a little. People die (rather gruesomly), there’s a bit of blood and Peter borders on the psychotic. In short, it starts out with dark edges in the first act, then throws a tin of black paint on the rest in the second.

The set design was lovely. What starts off as the beginnings of the Forth Bridge swings around to become trees/caves/pirate ships and are abstract enough to actually pull it off with a few extra props hung off them. The music was pretty, comprising mostly of sea shanties and homages to traditional Gaelic songs, and managed to firmly plant the piece in one particular place (Scotland) and one particular time (some time before today). Annie Grace and Alasdair Macrae, when not in Mrs Darling/Smee modes, complemented the scenes and set changes perfectly with an array of instruments and gorgeous lilting/grating and suitably piratey melodies.

The standouts within the cast was very clearly Kevin Guthrie as Pan. He seemed to constantly switch between naive boy and absolute psychopath who refuses to be touched or grow up. His absolutely dominated the stage every time he walked on it and managed to enthral me with every word. His boyish charms and good looks didn’t hurt either. However, when he turned dark, he really turned dark. The final scene in particular left chills down my neck which was not only carried by the inspired writing, but also by the stellar performance. Cal MacAninch did a rather beige job of Mr Darling. However, his turn at Hook was extremely menacing and worked perfectly. The menace in all his actions, particularly in the second half, were spot on and made him a character you hated, yet also made him intriguing and a little bit attractive. Another standout was Tinkerbell. The inspired use of flame was fantastic and was one true piece of magic onstage, considering the ‘flying’ was intentionally not masked at all.

All in all it was a very enjoyable night at the theatre, and I didn’t manage to nod off once. I found it a brilliant experience to revisit a beloved text of mine in a different light, and for the most part I enjoyed the darker side of the story.

Even if I don’t particularly remember Peter sticking knives through teddy bears in the original.

Peter Pan is playing at the Barbican until 29 May, and then heads north. Check it out if you get the chance.

I’ve been issued a challenge.

Last night over dinner I mentioned to my fiancé my excitement over the cast recording of American Idiot coming out in May. Yes, I am that sad. I then went on to explain exactly what American Idiot was, ie a staged version of two of Green Day’s albums.

You can imagine how exciting it is living with me.

For some reason, a wry smile appeared on her face. Knowing my disdain for jukebox musicals, she commented ‘but isn’t that a jukebox musical…’ I protested, making it clear that American Idiot was originally a concept album, and therefore this is just a staged version of a concept album, just like Chess or Jon English’s Paris… Ok, so not all concept albums deserve to be staged, but they sure aren’t jukebox musicals. Thus, a challenge was issued.

Prove that staged concept albums are better than, deserve more appreciation, and are ultimately different to jukebox musicals.

Easy.

First off, the definitions. A jukebox musical, according to Wikipedia, the source of all knowledge, “is a stage or film musical that uses previously released popular songs as its musical score.” Jukebox musicals have recently become a plague hit on Broadway and the West End, with shows such as Mamma Mia, Priscilla: Queen of the Desert and Jersey Boys taking other people’s songs, placing them within the show and raking in the money.

Wikipedia also, incorrectly, includes American Idiot on it’s list of jukebox musicals.

Jukebox musicals use previously released popular songs within the context of their plot. That is, they take a song out of it’s original context and give it new meaning within the story of their show. Sure, some could argue that shows such as Buddy, Dusty or Jersey Boys don’t fit within this classification due to the fact that the songs are being performed as part of the artists story. However, I would still argue that they are jukebox musicals, due to the fact that the songs weren’t originally intended to fit as a reference to that artist’s life. They were released as pop songs, devoid of context within a story.

Now we come to American Idiot.

American Idiot was released by Green Day in 2004 as a concept album. The songs follow a narrative based around the story of Jesus of Suburbia.

Green Day’s most recent release is another concept album called ‘21st Century Breakdown.’ The songs also follow a narrative.

American Idiot is also a musical that just premiered on Broadway. American Idiot, the musical, is an amalgamation of the American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown storylines into one story. That is, the songs that are used within the show, with the exception of the curtain call, are all used in their original context, fitting into the storyline that they were written for.

This, to me, is the fundamental difference between a jukebox musical and a stage concept album. Why do I think the latter is better than the former? Mostly due to the fact that the songs were written and intended for a narrative. Writing for musical theatre, or cabaret for that matter, is a very different beast to writing a pop song. Concept albums flirt with the line a little, but generally fall into the musical side of the fence, due to the fact that these songs are written to progress a story. They don’t need to be altered or played with very much because that element already exists within the song. Jukebox musicals, however, usually need to alter the source material slightly to make it relevant to the story. Quite often, due to the fairly strict Verse/Chorus/Verse/Chorus format of most pop songs, when they are appropriated to the stage they seem slightly naff. A show like Priscilla works for this reason. They don’t want, or need, to provide deep emotional connection through the songs, but simply need to entertain.

Actually, I think most jukebox musicals can be summed up in that last statement.

I get quite snobbish when I get on the subject of jukebox musicals, but I seem to prefer songs within musicals when they were written specifically for the musical/story.

If you think otherwise (and you probably do) then comment.

Convince me otherwise.