Chocs away! A sweet tale to melt any heart
NOT for yonks have I been so charmed by a new musical. The little Sam Wanamaker theatre — indoor off-shoot of Shakespeare’s Globe — has a heart-warmer on its hands with this tale of hesitant love between two late twentysomethings.
The show is based on a 2010 Belgian film and has been adapted and directed by Emma Rice, whose time running the Globe has been foolishly cut short. Miss Rice was too go-ahead for the stodges on the Globe’s board.
Part of the deliciousness of this production is that, in the most kindly way, it celebrates experimentation over stale tradition. ‘Take ze plunge!’ cry onlookers as would-be lovers Angelique and Jean-René dither.
What a pity that Miss Rice was not able to convince her employers at the Globe to ‘take ze plunge’ artistically.
We are in France, almost in the modern era. The period has a cartooned, retro feel. Modest, pretty Angelique (Carly Bawden) is a genius chocolatier. Tank-topped, square-jawed JeanRené (Dominic Marsh) is the owner of a failing chocolate factory. Both are crippled by reticence and attend meetings of Emotifs Anonymes, an Alcoholics Anonymous type of group for people struggling to express their emotions. The vignettes of these shy souls are funny and touching.
It is a musical, but Michael Kooman’s score has a jazzy lilt and is delivered by a four-piece band. There are catchy melodies — I liked a melancholy ballad, Don’t Let Her Go — but the music is a background seltzer rather than the overwhelming medium.
Christopher Dimon’s witty lyrics keep things chipper. The characters are sketched with affection and skill, and the tale ends with Angelique and Jean-René bouncing in the air, literally.
With numerous neon signs and even the use of an umbrella, Miss Rice seems to be defiantly reworking aspects of The Umbrellas Of Cherbourg, a West End flop she had six years ago.
There should be no danger of this delightful show failing to win over audiences. Miss Rice is a great mistress of hope and joy and her show will make a perfect romantic evening for couples old and new.
THEY had a few problems on the opening night of The Slaves Of Solitude. A sliding wall refused to budge in the first half, leaving a large hole in the scenery.
The actors commendably worked round the mishap and it didn’t matter. But it left me wondering if this production would have fared better with a minimalist set and focused more on the suppressed emotions in wartime Henley-on-Thames.
THE
play is adapted from a Patrick Hamilton novel. I have not read the book but suspect it brings out more of the inner turmoil of the lodgers at a boarding house in the town.
Among them is spinster Miss Roach (Fenella Woolgar), glamorous German émigrée Miss Kugelmann (Lucy Cohu) and a rancid windbag called Mr Thwaites (Clive Francis).
When a dashing black American soldier (Daon Broni) turns up, hesitant Miss Roach falls for him and the more vivacious Miss Kugelmann flashes her eyes at him. Mr Thwaites makes racist slurs, but is put in his place by some of the boarding house’s nice old ladies. Tim Hatley’s set is elaborate, but a crash during one scene change suggested a certain panic backstage. Not all the minor characters were fully in command of their lines.
The story is gentle, being broadly sympathetic to all concerned and catching the stoicism of the English in the Forties. Understatement can be powerful on stage, but it benefits from having the alternative ( shrieking torment) lightly sketched in the background.
Director Jonathan Kent and adaptor Nicholas Wright never quite offer us that.
Miss Woolgar does clipped reserve well, but could we not, when Miss Roach is alone with her GI, have more sense of surging lusts. The other characters could also do with some more back-story to make sense of that solitude mentioned in the title.
It is all watchable enough but rather underpowered.