Review of ‘Sinatra, The Musical’: “Baubles, bangles and beads show doesn’t do it the right way”

He was a legend. A singer. An actor. A father. A husband. An adulterer. A thug. An alcoholic. He tried to end his life several times. And he made the lives of those around him miserable, while his unparalleled gift brought so much joy to others. From this, you would gather that a musical biography of Frank Sinatra would brim with the same passion, excitement, and piquancy that shaped every day of arguably America’s most illustrious soloist. But it doesn’t. And it’s baffling to see how a tribute to the legacy of someone who was nicknamed ‘The Voice’ can be so tone-deaf.

Luck wasn’t a lady last night. In fact, she was nowhere to be found — in any form. But it isn’t like Joe DiPietro’s flavourless writing had any chances of being saved anyway. It is that shallow — and that boring. An excruciatingly dull book clumsily pieces some of Sinatra’s most iconic tunes- some of the best ones are left for the encore -with little to no dramatic deftness.

Overall, it doesn’t work as a musical. Excluding a few exceptions, it’s closer to a play with songs. And even in that category, it’s not too good. Most sequences come out exceedingly shoehorned. The scenes struggle to create a seamless transition between the spoken and musical segments.

The cause is usually the same — for the most part, the characters don’t need to break into song. There’s not enough dramatic motivation for that to occur. So when they do, it feels unwelcome, tedious, and ultimately, annoying. And it snowballs. After experiencing a few pointless renditions- whose sole raison d’etre is that, in musicals, people are supposed to serenade every now and then -hearing the opening bars of a new number sets off a warning signal. And the response doesn’t get any better than a sigh of discontent.

DiPietro’s script is painfully shallow. And extremely heavy-handed. The dialogue is clunky and artificial. There is no flow, no organicness, and the pacing is severely flawed. Not only does the writing make all the characters look dreadfully sketchy, but it also makes crucial aspects of the narrative seem implausible and overly convenient, which is perplexing, at the very least, given the nature of the source material.

The result is a clueless and rather emotionless work of storytelling in which none of its elements come together satisfactorily. There’s no heart. No introspection. And no real journey. Everything is presented in such a rushed, vapid manner that it’s impossible to care about what’s going on. And eventually, that’s all that happens.

A high-spectacle production could have saved the show to a degree. But this isn’t the case either. Beyond a few eye-catching projections and lighting stunts, the staging is quite disappointing. There’s nothing dazzling about Peter McKintosh’s design and its undue reliance on screens, whose featured illustrations could pass for a Windows XP Clip-Art roster. Some practical pieces fill the scene. But in the end, the approach is rather lazy. And a bit lacklustre.

Joel Harper-Jackson fails to portray a compelling Sinatra. In general, his performance is wooden and uncharismatic. He doesn’t have the poise, charm, and electricity that made the real Sinatra the powerhouse everyone would fall in love with. There’s no sentiment in his execution, which comes off sterile and flat. And although his singing is adequate, the strength, warmth, and effortlessness that defined Sinatra’s voice are not there.

Some other members of the company leave a much more positive impression, even when they engage in David Chase’s not-too-arresting dance arrangements. Phoebe Panaretos demonstrates impeccable singing and convincing acting skills as Nancy Sinatra, while Jenna Russell steals the show with her superb interpretation as Sinatra’s mother, Dolly, once again proving her prowess as a character actress.

You would expect a show about Sinatra to be nothing but the best. Sadly, this one is a long way from even dreaming of that title. There are a few flashy moments and an excellent big band, but that is the extent of it. And ultimately, there’s hardly any substance for audiences to get a kick out of Sinatra, whose ability to get under their skin is virtually nonexistent.

All pictures credit to Birgit and Ralf Brinkhoff and Moegenburg.

Sinatra, The Musical plays at London’s Aldwych Theatre until 10 April 2027. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara