Sondheim’s ladies who lunch are now lads
Company Gielgud Theatre
This is astonishing. In so many ways it feels as if you’re hemmed in by reasons to cheer. Marianne Elliott’s reimagining of Stephen Sondheim’s landmark experimental 1970 musical (and book by George Furth) reboots a modern classic for the Tinder age. It’s sensational. But it might not have worked.
Yes, Sondheim is a known genius, Elliott one of our finest directors. And, sure, there’s something inevitable – given our identity-fluid times – about taking the pivotal role of Bobby, a sexy, unattached New Yorker contemplating the hazards (and rewards) of coupledom as he hits 35, and – hey presto – gender-switching it. But let’s be honest: planting an actress in a hitherto male role can entail a formidable suspension of disbelief.
None of the usual indulgence, though, is required here. Updating the plotless, dreamlike action to the New York of here and now, Elliott achieves the equivalent of a high-speed handbrake turn that doesn’t emit a jarring screech or alarming gearshift. She hurtles the same vehicle for some of the funniest and most stirring songs in the Sondheim canon against the usual flow and somehow you’re left persuaded that this route is the most effective, and affecting.
Rosalie Craig gives a career-making performance as Bobbie, taking you inside the mind of a relatable woman who should be carefree but, assailed by social invitations and unsubtle insinuations from her needy married friends, feels the pressure to settle down, compounded by the ticking of her biological clock. Taking a hallucinogenic leaf out of Alice in Wonderland, the creative team use the psychological springboard of an anticipated surprise birthday party to propel Bobbie into a curiouser and curiouser world in which the familiar becomes ethereal. It’s a kind of theatrical magic, as our flamehaired, red-dressed heroine steps from the confines of her boxlike, lit-framed apartment (as much prison cell as sanctuary) into a succession of environments that have the floating quality of the silver helium party balloons that are the main visual motif.
Objects – and people – materialise and disappear as if they’re channelling the Cheshire Cat. Blink and you’ll miss a coup de théâtre, but as well as being spellbinding in their own right, the illusions bring home the moral that while you’re busy, distracted, your chance of happiness might vanish into thin air. Craig – with her facial expressiveness and vocal soulfulness – delivers a tour de force that deserves to be the talk of the town. But she’s at the centre of an evening which, as the title suggests, is all about ensemble effort. There’s no room to do justice to everyone involved in a show that looks and sounds immaculate, but the cost of admission is single-handedly repaid, in turn, by Mel Giedroyc, the former Bake Off host, as the smug but far from satisfied married Susan; by George Blagden’s preposterously cocksure young Brit-abroad PJ; by Richard Fleeshman as a hunky, sweetly gormless and sexually obliging airsteward Andy; and by Jonathan Bailey as a verbally hysterical, very reluctant gay bridegroom-to-be.
Last but by no means least there’s Patti Lupone, who came out of retirement to play the caustic role of Joanne. As hilarious as she is imperious, drawling and bawling out the satirical number “The Ladies Who Lunch” while sitting disdainfully still in a fur wrap, knocking back the booze, she provides the spiky finishing touch to a sublime cocktail of an entertainment you’d be mad to miss. Booking until Dec 22. Tickets: 0844 871 2118; tickets.telegraph.co.uk