Andrew Lloyd Webber’s adaptation of one of the best-known movie musicals of all time returns to the stage in a little pretty new production flying all the way from Leiceter’s Curve Theatre. Guillermo Nazara shares his thoughts on this show combining all of the iconic songs with a new repertoire, to let us know if this montage features a heart, a brain and courage.
“Call me Rusty”, asks the hydromatic, ultramatic Tin Man in a dystopianly bodacious Oz. Well, he doesn’t – but I wanted to make sure you’d get the reference in the title. Don’t worry if you don’t, though – as fellow friend the Scarecrow states, people without brains do an awful lot of talking (damn it, I pulled myself into that trap). Whatever. The summer season continues to quench (or maybe tingle) our thirst for new musicals in the West End – or at least, new productions. In a time when out-of-town revivals seem to have become a trend to fill London’s insatiable theatre crave, one of the biggest audience faves has dropped in once again with the intention of bringing the house down. Though hopefully, not on anybody.
Walking down the yellow brick road all the way from Leicester’s Curve Theatre, this version of The Wizard of Oz is making a comeback to the place where its new writing saw the green lights for the first time – never before as close as to its adaptor’s previous body of work – if you get what I’m trying to express… With quite a modernised look (sort to speak), the place that’s definitely not Kansas has undergone a major 80s makeover (with the addition of selfie technology), presenting us with a more cartoonish (even videogame-esque) take on L. F. Braum’s classic and, ultimately, Hollywood’s international treasure.
The result has not been disappointing, though. Clearly not what one would presumably expect to see in a show homaging a 1930s movie, the production has managed to keep the spark of wonder (no pun intended) that has captivated the imagination of so many children (and beyond) for almost a century now. Featuring an extended repertoire penned by the reunited duo formed by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, the appended songs appear to be more than a creative fancy to tamper with an icon. They have a purpose within the narrative, and they serve it rather satisfactorily.
Despite its rushed start (Nobody Understands Me wisely sets the story’s initial tone, but lacks the strength and full development an opening number requires to justify such position), the pacing gets back on track rather swiftly – soon enamouring us with the nostalgic lush of its mellow tale and, eventually, memory-triggering original score. There’s some room for the new tunes to do make their splash too, nonetheless. Often conceived as merely plot-moving devices, Webber-Rice’s added contributions accomplish some level of emblematic lasting – either through character definition (the Red Shoes Blues is a definite new MT standard) or by offering us one of the most shiver-inducing parts in the whole show through the sweet though much purging choral anthem Already Home.
Directed by Nikolai Forster (a name that’s also becoming a brand when it comes to reimaged classics), the montage features some acceptable visuals that, though none of them impressive or can’t-be-missed material, are sufficient enough to transport us into the tinseling glitz of Ozmopolitan life. Designed by Colin Richmond (with costumes by Rachael Canning), this rather competent effort is secured (and boosted) by Ben Cracknell’s beautifully crafted lightning – combining the story’s naturally colourful frenzy with some little touches of elegance and, over all, full attention to its recounting goals. Another mention is to be made to David Cullen’s lavish and extremely effective orchestrations – adding richness, texture and spectacularity to an already extravagant score, which is masterfully (and passionately) conducted by George Dyer (chances are you will notice his hair dancing to every single chord coming from the pit).
Counting on a hugely skillful company (the ensemble moments developed with flawless expertise), several leads provide us with significantly indelible performances. Dianne Pilkington gives one of the most enduring renditions as the Wicked Witch of the West – endowing her with a camp yet sophisticated approach sparkled with some kind of Bette Davies reminiscence (if there’s ever been a difference between the character and the actress -Betty-, that is). At the same time, Gary Wilmont makes a short though anyway notable appearance through his magnetic portrayal of the Wizard of Oz, while Jason Manford also steals a few hearts (thankfully for all of us, not slippers) through his charming and quite hilarious depiction of the Cowardly Lion. Sadly, Georgina Onuorah does not fill her part as Dorothy with the same enchantment as the rest – as though her vocals are adequate, the take on the role is too blunt and driven for what the character is supposed to (and must) be.
There’s no magic wands in this montage, but star-pointed antennas. No soothsaying crystal balls but CCTV monkey-operated surveillance. But despite this Oz not looking just as like the one we grew up (and probably feel in love) with, its bewitchment is still much great and powerful. A more than fun experience for both families and everyone who feels ready to befriend Dorothy, the London Palladium is now home to an event that, though not the biggest, is definitely a nice option if hearts and flowers (potentially, poppies) is what you’re looking for onstage. Birds fly over the rainbow, but this one passed through it.
All pictures credit to Marc Brenner.
The Wizard of Oz plays at the London Palladium until 3 September. Tickets are available on the following link.
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