PATRICK MARMION reviews Spend Spend Spend: Car-crash life of pools winner Viv hits the jackpot (almost)
Spend Spend Spend (Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester)
Verdict: cautious tax recovery
Before delving deeper into buyer’s remorse over January sales, you might want to check out the musical cautionary tale Spend Spend Spend at Manchester’s Royal Exchange.
It’s the story of Yorkshire girl Viv Nicholson, who won the football pools in 1961 (Gen Z readers: think the National Lottery).
When asked what she was going to do with her £152,319 winnings (about £4 million today), our Viv’s response was: ‘Spend, spend, spend!’
And as lottery winners say, Viv’s life was a textbook car crash.
By the time she hit the jackpot at 25, she had divorced the father of her first child, married Keith next door and had three more children.
Indeed, she spent money on cars, furs and jewelry and became a pariah in the posh town of Garforth before the love of her life died in a car crash.
Her profits were gone, Viv opened a boutique, went bankrupt, married three more (bad) men and was eventually saved from alcoholism by Jehovah’s Witnesses.
That’s quite a plot; but our Viv wasn’t exactly Eva Perón and I’m not sure we need two hours and forty minutes to describe her life in forensic detail.
Rose Galbraith as Viv Nicholson’s lead character in Spend Spend Spend
With her 1960s blonde bob, Galbraith (left) brings attitude and innocence to voluptuous young Viv, writes PATRICK MARMION
Alex James-Hatton is a fit, affectionate Keith, Viv’s second husband (pictured together)
The brilliant music and lyrics of Steve Brown and Justin Greene’s 1998 show could also use some bigger, brassier numbers to break the bank. The only truly memorable tune among them is Who’s Gonna Love Me?, in the second half, when Viv is abruptly robbed.
That said, Josh Seymour’s production, set on a silver disc (which should be stamped as a giant shilling), keeps you distracted – largely thanks to Rose Galbraith as the younger Viv.
With her 1960s blonde bob, Galbraith brings attitude and innocence to the voluptuous young Viv. And in a nice twist, Rachel Leskovac – who played that role in the original production – looks back sadly as the older Viv.
Joe Alessi pays a glorious tribute to the post-war, unreconstructed man, wearing a red teddy boy wig as Viv’s alcoholic intemperate father. Alex James-Hatton is a fit, affectionate Keith, who helps us feel the sadness in Viv’s wayward life.
Otherwise, the song and dance numbers need to be dialed in, with more choreographic fizz.
Every now and then I wonder why I never won the lottery, but this made me feel better that I hadn’t.
Little Shop Of Horrors (Crucible Theatre, Sheffield)
Verdict: A great triffid
How can we explain the lasting success of the 1960 schlock-horror, low-budget B-movie Little Shop Of Horrors (with a then unknown Jack Nicholson in a minor role)?
It is now best known as a musical, having become an off-Broadway hit in 1982 and enjoying a West End run in 2007, starring Sheridan Smith. A black comedy with domestic violence, a sadistic dentist and a flesh-eating potted plant, it is not obvious musical material.
And yet it has a morbid fascination, as our unlikely hero – the mad flower shop clerk Seymour – saves his beloved colleague Audrey by feeding her abusive dentist boyfriend to an overgrown Venus flytrap.
Part of what drives our interest is Seymour’s desire to cover up his slavery to the plant, which he calls Audrey II.
But Alan Menken’s score is also delightful as a twinkling tribute to Motown; while Howard Ashman’s lyrics give us a good laugh in songs like Skid Row, Somewhere That’s Green and the big cheesy romantic song Suddenly, Seymour.
Little Shop of Horrors is irresistibly cheerful and driven by Jewish humor, but in Sheffield they have left out the American accents
The infamous dentist scene in Little Shop of Horrors (Wilf Scolding as dentist)
Colin Ryan during a scene from the Little Shop of Horrors at the Crucible Theatre
Not only is it irresistibly cheerful, it is driven by Jewish humor – nowhere more sardonic than in the klezmer number in which Seymour’s boss, Mr Mushnik, adopts him as his son.
In Sheffield they have been wise enough to leave out the American accents, so Seymour is played by Colin Ryan as a shy Brummie.
Georgina Onuorah could be smoother as the object of his affection, Audrey; but her voice combines both vulnerability and strength.
Wilf Scolding is hilariously sinister as the devilish dentist, while Sam Buttery turns the monstrous Audrey II into a vengeful drag queen.
Georgia Lowe’s set design combines waste containers (with human cargo), dancing molars and boxes full of enormous tentacles.
And Amy Hodge’s production includes a glorious finale for the man (and woman) who eats plants. Three cheers as guilt and death triumph over love and life.
- Spend Spend Spend until January 11; Little Shop Of Horrors until January 18th.
Pioneering a path… a freewheeling new look at War and Peace
Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 (Donmar Warehouse, London)
Verdict: From Russia with love
By Georgina Brown
Dave Malloy’s thrilling, breathless, sung-through musical, inspired by a lush tragicomic piece from War And Peace, is more original and eclectic than anything playing in the West End.
Woven into the indie-folk fabric are searing Slavic strings, a carnivalesque accordion, heartbreaking Les Mis-esque ballads, drinking songs, torch songs – and more.
If you’ve forgotten what’s in Tolstoy’s epic, don’t worry. All is revealed in the first issue – with the playful repetition of a children’s memory game: ‘There’s a war going on out there somewhere and Andrey isn’t there.’
This is followed by a melodious introduction of the main characters: Natasha is ‘young’, Pierre is ‘unhappy’, Anatole is ‘hot’, Hélène, Anatole’s sister and also Pierre’s wife, ‘a slut’.
The cast of Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet Of 1812. The sung musical is more original and eclectic than anything playing in the West End
And so it begins, with Declan Bennett’s weary and emotional Pierre, our guide: “They say we sleep until we fall in love.” Pierre cares as little about Hélène as she cares about him. Maybe it’s the effect of the approaching comet, but love is in the air.
Natasha (a giggling, girlish Chumisa Dornford-May) is in town for the first time, at the opera, and finds everyone’s torch-like binoculars trained on her instead of the stage. Especially that of Anatole, Jamie Muscato’s sleek, tough guy, with Hugh Grant’s wide grin and a New Romantic blouse.
Tim Sheader’s fantastic, freewheeling production has the feel and flair of a cabaret, with the atmosphere shifting from mischief and merriment to misery and melancholy.
Cat Simmons’ scowling Hélène, emerging from her corset, prowls the stage like a, er, cat; a soulful Sonya (Maimuna Memon), Natasha’s best friend, breaks our hearts with her sad song.
The show ends on a dramatic note, as a ball of bright light – the comet – descends and Pierre falls in love, whetting our appetite for the next juicy chapter. Bring it on!
Until February 8.