Scintillating romance set at the birth of the musical
The Artist (Theatre Royal Plymouth) Verdict: It’s got that swing
AS A besotted owner of two ‘Uggie’ dogs, I hoped that the latest translation from screen to stage would be all about the show-stealing terrier in The Artist, the multi-award-winning movie romance about the end of the silent movies and the start of MGM musical magnificence.
As it turns out, it’s far more than that. Uggie is both an actor-dancerpuppeteer (Thomas Walton) and an adorable puppet pup. And they are but two of several pedigree parts of director/choreographer Drew McOnie’s ensemble extravaganza.
Competition comes from all over, not least Christopher Oram’s dazzling designs for the Art Deco sets and Hollywood-glamorous costumes: sumptuous, swirling, lightcatching satin, silk and velvet.
Simon Hale’s new score references the luscious strains from Brief Encounter and borrows beloved melodies from I Wanna Be Loved By You and Dancing In The Dark
( the Artie Shaw version; not Bruce Springsteen’s).
In a witty touch, Alexander Bean, the chauffeur, sits not at a driving wheel but at a drum set.
This show goes beyond telling of the birth of MGM. It marks a moment when a woman finds her voice: Briana Craig’s peppy Peppy, the pocketdynamo chorus girl who becomes a screen starlet, demands to be heard as well as seen.
It’s not quite perfect. The cat puppet underwhelms, and fewer reenactments of the heroic swashbuckling roles played by Robbie Fairchild’s gorgeous George would make way for more Hollywood hoofing.
The sexual magnetism could be stronger between Craig and Fairchild. Miraculous movers both, they’re only truly hot to trot when they tapdance to the tune of ‘It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing’. And they’ve got that swing.
Move over Fred and Ginger. This scintillating show has legs.