The ancient myths relive onstage through this cabaret play bringing together three of the most frightful female beasts from Greek folklore. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the montage, to let us know if its divinely camp approach either kicks up its heels or shows the Achilles one.
Some men just cannot die… I could tell. Last time I tried, it took me forever until I got away with… I should probably be sharing that in writing. Although now that you know, I’m afraid I can’t let you go… Not without listening (let’s just pretend I’m just one more of those voices in your head) to the review I’ve so thoroughly prepared specially for you and you alone (you can trust that statement much you can rely on your partner’s loyalty on a Soho -you’re welcome-).
Anyway (I’ve just realised that’s becoming my catchphrase), let’s bring in today’s defendant, as this occasion truly calls for a trial before the gods. Enter Fabulous Creatures, a self-defined cabaret show putting together three of the most terrifying Greek monsters (the ancient ones, not the miscast actors from the Mamma Mia! film adaptation – you know who I’m talking about…) in a glittering display of song, dance and a whole lot of camp.
Following the theatre-within-theatre formula, the piece introduces us to Scylla, Charybois and Siren, former man-killing deities now turned into live performers – whose heavenly retirement will be soon put on hold by some urgent earthly needs (Zeus is not involved so don’t get your hopes up – or anything else…). With a script by Emily Louizou and Quentin Beroud (the latter, also the hand behind the lyrics) and music by Irene Skylakaki, the montage combines a variety-show-style approach (featuring concert-like renditions pasted altogether through Emcee’d commentaries) with snippets written as a spoken play – providing us with an interesting mixture of genres which endows the recount with versatility, but sadly fails to give it a proper structure and enough cohesiveness.
Starting with a stand-up-comedy-type rendition, later transitioning to a melange of introductory songs for the personages and, from basically the middle to the end, just regular dialogue, the account struggles to decide upon the kind of narrative it’s trying to pursue – let alone, make it clear to the viewer. All of those elements can obviously be intertwined, but the lack of connection among them achieves, in this case, the opposite effect: it feels like seeing three separate works, and most unfortunately, none of them are quite developed.
The issue may stem from not fully understanding the purpose of each section when it comes to musical theatre. On the one hand, there’s not a flowing cadence between song and talk – with many of the numbers not being given sufficient buildup before they commence, but also becoming practically non-existent during the second half of the plot. In addition, too many sung-through segments strive to give anything else than mere exposition, and though that’s a key component to the evolution of any story, it’s the fact that they don’t allow the characters to make any progress throughout them that, actually, erases the essence of their existence.
Some acknowledgement must be given anyhow, to its verses, probably being the strongest bit in the entire piece. Crafted with irony, flair and intuition, Beroud’s words are capable of enticing us while adding some zest to the material. Wistfully, though, Skylakaki’s score doesn’t accomplish the same result – often feeling too bland and generic, while contributing too little to the emotional requests of the narration.
As for the cast, all three performers try to regale us with engaging portrayals – an endeavour which, apart from noticeable, is able to do the trick to some extent. Yet, there’s still some aspects to be polished, as though the energy and rapport they project is rather high, the text doesn’t feel entirely internalised, while the vocals could benefit from some subtle improvements – on several occasions, sounding a bit off pitch.
A more than compelling premise in the trend of major hits such as Hadestown or even Hamilton, Fabulous Creatures parts from the excellent idea of reviving old tales through a contemporary and quite entertaining perspective, but still needs to find its own identity in what, all in all, feels like a disorganised jumble of resources featured just for the sake of being there. They have the germ, but still not the whole concept they are intending to go after. Spot your goal and then search for the means to make it happen, instead of the other way around. Musical theatre is an Herculean effort, but it should be the odyssey.
All pictures credit to Sophie Giddens.
Fabulous Creatures plays at London’s Arcola Theatre until 15 June. Tickets are available on the following link.