The guiltiest 90s gay pleasure tops itself with the London premiere of its jukebox musical adaptation. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if this melange of sex and candy finally caught genie in a bottle.
Seriously – there’s nothing more satisfying that seeing a b*tch being brutally destroyed. It’s almost as if you couldn’t wait for that moment to come. I guess it must be really frustrating when they realize this old girl (I’m 30 already…) takes no sh*t from anyone. And maybe, also a bit scary when they agree on getting big stuff, only to find out that flip-flopping doesn’t mean buying a load of sandals… Oh, shut your hole (no pun intended… *smirk*), we’re talking about the campiest, sexiest, drool-inducing (you know what “steamy” scene I’m talking about – cracking, isn’t it…?) teen picture in the 90s. A movie that boosted every single hormone in our inexperienced (*w*nker*) prepubescent bodies, and let our imagination run wilder than the showers at Oasis every 5 minutes… Not that I know…
Welcome Cruel Intentions, the musical version of the cult movie that inspired an entire generation – better not to think in which way, to be honest… A faithful depiction of the original piece, this jukebox-studded montage brings back the thrills and sensuality of its uncannily tempting predecessor, while also adding a good dose of fun and liveliness all throughout without compromising its dark undertone. Penned by the film’s screenwriter Roger Kumble, as well as Jordan Ross and Lindsey Rosin, and directed by Jonathan O’Boyle, the production excels at delivering a whole (but never wholesome) evening of pure entertainment – regaling us with an engaging account woven up through intricate visuals, sparkling numbers and applause-provoking performances.
Following a list of pop-rock hits from the picture’s era, the way the score is crafted is probably the show’s most interesting (and wittiest) aspect. It’s not just that most of the songs, in general, serve the storytelling smoothly and coherently, without feeling shoehorned into the plot – it’s the irony of those tunes being chosen for those moments in particular. The smirk, chuckle or even cackle is unavoidable so many times, as the list brilliantly manages to poke fun at the recount’s twisted situations – making it lighter (and possibly, more enjoyable) to today’s audiences.
There’s a couple of tweaks to be made, nonetheless – as the opening number feels too short and in need of bigger, more climatic (don’t get your hopes up… oh, dear…) resolution to make it fully effective. In addition, Kathryn’s first expositional song, I’m The Only One, requires some previous, incidental bars to make the transition into singing more seamless and, all in all, natural.
There’s another element in this take that’s worth a flag, and that’s its queer empowerment. The screen version was, to some extent, daring at unapologetically bringing to the front an openly gay character and denouncing (again, only to some extent) homophobia. But its musical counterpart really hits the high note. Blaine might not be the most likable suitor in the crowd (not that he tries to) but his determination and bitchy charm are infectious. His relationship with Greg, who’s living a closeted life, is further explored, too – with more references and evolution that, though not completely concluded, still grant a more fulfilling view of their journey.
With vigorous-sounding orchestrations (despite its only 4-piece band) and simple yet functional staging (sets and costumes credit to Polly Sullivan), the greatest value of this production comes from its lighting (credit to Nick Richings) – designed with such detail to enhance both narration and an atmosphere, it occasionally becomes, for a few seconds, the true scene-stealer.
This is even more praiseworthy taking into account its refreshing cast, with several of its members displaying good acting skills and, above all, impressive vocals. Rhianne-Louise McCaulsky stands out through her singing abilities in the lead role of Kathryn (*sl*t*) McCaulsky, while Daniel Bravo draws out a great a deal of allure with his quietly menacing portrayal of Sebastian Valmont. Nonetheless, Josh Barnett makes the most memorable appearance of the entire troupe, through his extremely magnetic and highly charismatic rendition as Blaine Tuttle, graciously complemented by Barnie Wilkinson’s more secluded and fragile depiction of Greg McConnell.
A tribute to nostalgia without feeling too archaic, Cruel Intentions gets away with crime by returning the enticement, mystery and thirst of its precursor while also updating it for modern viewers. Despite a few old-fashioned attitudes (regardless of how hurt you are, you have no right to slap anyone for breaking up with you), the piece maintains the novelty of its early incarnation, but adds more spice and zest to this final mouthful. And the tickling it leaves through its aftertaste is much pleasurable. But once again, I’m not sure I’m talking about a show anymore…
All pictures credit to Pamela Raith.
Cruel Intentions plays at London’s The Other Palace until 14 April. Tickets are available on the following link.