Quentin Letts Marcus walks the Barnum tightrope — and comes a cropper
THERE is plenty to admire in the Menier Chocolate Factory’s new production of Cy Coleman’s circus musical Barnum: sinuous young acrobats, a decent band, good singing from the lead ladies and tremendous energy in a staging which crowds almost 20 actors on a tight, central floor space with raised circus ring.
The one thing the show lacks — big snag — is a convincing central performance. Where the vital figure of showman PT Barnum should be, we have the underpowered, undertalented Marcus Brigstocke.
Barnum! This guy should be mercurial, dynamic, on the edge of crazy, all sparky and full of zest for life. He should be an impossible husband, an irrepressible enthusiast, a wisecracker able to turn his hand to anything — and certainly never given to selfdoubt.
He should open his lungs and out should blast the most implausible, yet somehow irresistible, sales patter, tempting the world’s ‘suckers’ to part with their greenbacks for a few ounces of escapism.
Instead, we just have Marcus blinking Brigstocke, best known for worldweary satirical riffs on Radio 4. He shifts his weight from one buttock to the other, unable to keep doubting smiles from his face as he sings.
And on the opening night, he fell off the tightrope three times in the scene where a supposedly uxorious Barnum is meant to edge perilously towards a gorgeous Swedish soprano awaiting him on a balcony.
What on earth was director Gordon Greenberg doing when he cast this lead role? It is such a pity. The rest of the ensemble is terrific.
I loved the springyheeled tumblers, the juggling of banknotewads, the choreography when they all squeezed on stage, the inescapable rasp of Dominic Owen’s ringmaster and the oomppahparp from a lad marching with a sousaphone wrapped round his head.
The story takes us through Barnum’s helterskelter career, from his creation of a freakish museum — later destroyed by fire — to his tours of America with garish acts such as midget General Tom Thumb, ‘ the world’s oldest woman’ and opera star Jenny Lind. She, ‘the Swedish nightingale’, briefly steals his heart.
CELInDA
Schoenmaker is excellent as this statuesque blonde warbler, just as Laura PittPulford shines as Barnum’s wife Chairy.
Longsuffering Chairy is meant to be something of a mouse, but opposite the clunky Mr Brigstocke, she soars. The difference in their vocal ability is embarrassing.
Oh, dear, oh dear. I am sorry to have to be so beastly about a performer who, after all, is only trying his best. But he should never have been cast. His singing is indistinct (an iffy microphone may not have helped, although in a small venue such as the Menier, amplification should hardly be compulsory).
Director Greenberg should have spotted the imbalance between his brilliantly lithe and multitalented company and the woodenness of the character who has supposedly inspired all this whirling brilliance. Coleman and Michael Stewart’s songs, particularly The Colours Of My Life and Join The Circus ensure that you will leave the likeable Menier with a tune in your heels, but had they only chosen a proper musical star as Barnum, it could all have been so much better.