Review of ‘Cable Street’: “Riot-themed musical still has a lot to demonstrate”

The Marylebone Theatre welcomes the show’s latest comeback, which is playing for a new limited run until the end of February. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the piece to let us know if this artistic tribute to those fighting the system screams anarchy.

There’s always a reason for a show’s return. And when it’s the second time that happens, we can only relate it to its quality — at least, before seeing it. There are exceptions, though. And this piece isn’t far from becoming one. It’s not terrible, but its popularity (if any) isn’t fully justified onstage.

Despite its promising premise, the result is just average, and it mirrors its protagonists’ motto in the most ironic manner. “They shall not pass!” cry the antifascists vehemently. Similarly, this work shall not get more than a pass, with no distinction.

A group of tourists flocks into the busy streets of Limehouse. Very little is left from the era they will learn about. Yet, the spirit that changed the course of its history still pervades, living on through its multiculturalism and its sense of community.

It’s a tale with a message. And the message is good. The manner in which it’s told, however, is not so much. The love for inspirational stories of people fighting for a better world isn’t over, but it’s not like its predecessors have set the bar too low. And in many aspects, Cable Street barely manages to skim their standards.

What causes humans to go against their own kind? It’s probably one of the most fascinating topics to explore in a narrative. Cable Street wishes to give an explanation to that question, but it does so too swiftly and superficially.

Three main characters embody the political clashes that led to the infamous revolts. On one side, a jobless white British boy is seduced by the demagogical discourse of the far right. At the same time, a Jewish youngster has had it with the antisemitic attitudes he and his family have endured since he can remember. Lastly, a discontent baker is fed up with the systemic abuse against the working class and naively commits herself to the communist cause. They’re all ignited by the same spark — unfair rent increases and inhumane evictions.

It doesn’t take a genius to find resonance in this plot, but it will take one or two to turn it into a compelling recount. The intentions for poignancy are obvious, but the outcome isn’t satisfactory.

All in all, it comes off shallow. The personages have a full arc, but it’s nonetheless sketchy and lacks depth. The script provides space for their transformation, but the process isn’t intricate enough. For the most part, they are heavily one-dimensional — an archetype of what they are intended to represent, with no complexities or contradictions, and consequently, no individuality.

The story vehemently pulls at the heartstrings, but overall, it’s a futile attempt. The connection with the viewer never materialises. We are entertained, to an extent, but we are never stirred. There’s no emotional journey to embark on. And that’s not because there are not enough harrowing events, but because there’s no sufficient reflection upon them. Therefore, our experience as an audience is flawed. We can see what’s happening, but we can’t feel for it, as we’re never really invited to. And eventually, we can’t care much.

The writing still has a few redeeming qualities. In general, the score is pleasant and exhibits a discreet yet recognisable identity, which is achieved by mixing contemporary rock with a distinctive Klezmer sound. There are other influences, all of which enrich the piece, but wistfully only during the first act, after which the piece adopts a more banal and derivative style.

Those cracks begin to show early on, in any case. And when they proudly sing their main leitmotif, “No Pasarán”, musical aficionados are likely to picture Brad and Janet in black leotards as they escape Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s cabinet of depravity — the core of the melody bears an uncanny resemblance to Rocky Horror‘s Super Heroes.

The lyrics are adequate altogether. There are a few clever rhymes, and the prosody is honed. However, there’s not much subtlety or subtext in them. Everything is expressed too bluntly, without offering layering or introspection.

The show’s style is also confusing on some occasions. On the whole, it’s supposed to be a serious musical. Yet, the camp approach of some segments feels problematic at best and tone-deaf at worst. The fascists, for example, are portrayed as goofy, humorous characters when they’re first introduced. The interpretation isn’t difficult to grasp — they want us to regard them as a ridiculous ideology. That’s not the issue. The absence of balance is.

Ultimately, they come across as cartoon villains. As such, they are sometimes presented as a menacing force, but once again through a shallow and stereotypical view, without analysing their radicalisation through a more profound lens.

There are some structural errors affecting several sections. The tourist framing device, a recurring feature throughout the entire recount, feels closer to a filler than a meaningful element — and only the final excerpt makes a relevant contribution.

The climax is also resolved vapidly. Despite all the contention and subsequent suffering, the leads reconcile practically on the spot — perhaps, convenient for the narrative, but hardly a believable (let alone welcome) move for the audience. And inevitably, it seems like a clumsy use of its dramatic resources.

The production is praiseworthy despite its simplicity. A council-house building in the background, a proscenium of decaying wooden boards, steel fences, some chairs, and a table form the entire set, which seamlessly transforms into each scene through an exemplary lighting design — aesthetically stunning and remarkably atmospheric.

Both the blocking and choreography work well and provide the performance with additional dynamism. There are exceptions, though. The final riot scene, for instance, generates the opposite effect it should — there’s no thrill, danger, or tension to it; instead, it comes off comical and slightly dull.

We should nonetheless appreciate the cast’s skillfulness, which overall translates into a broad acting register, strong rapport, and a few outstanding vocals. Among them, Lizzy-Rose Esin-Kelly excels through her powerhouse singing, while Barney Wilkinson brings charm, sincerity, and likability to his troubled character, Ron Williams.

You will hear the people sing, and it is unlikely that those attending will leave as angry men. Still, the mildly entertaining qualities of Cable Street aren’t accompanied by the pathos, insight, and intelligence required for what it aims to honour. It’s a nice nod to an important historical episode, like any other would have been, but there’s nothing revolutionary about it. And certainly, nothing glorious either.

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All pictures credit to Johan Persson.

Cable Street plays at London’s Marylebone Theatre until 28 February. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara