Review: Singin' in the Rain at the Palace Theatre
Reviewed: 16 Feb
The venerable Palace Theatre, with its cheeky little turquoise/green cherubs permanently gazing at the stage, is not much known as a dance venue and yet it was the stage that introduced Anna Pavlova to a paying London audience (– she performed here in 1910 and 1911) and Nijinsky also landed on these boards from his great leaps, in 1914. But I doubt if it’s ever rained inside the theatre before – and boy, does it rain!
Both Acts are closed by the iconic title song, performed solo before the interval by Adam Cooper as Don Lockwood (the character forever associated with Gene Kelly thanks to the eponymous 1952 film) and reprised by the whole cast as a very wet finale. More than 10,000 litres of water are pumped out for each performance and quite a few gallons of it are splashed over the front rows of the orchestra stalls. I suspect that it is the only theatre in London currently selling umbrellas alongside the programmes and CDs. For those who wonder about such things, the water falls into a recessed central part of the stage, creating a pool for splashing in; and its worth staying in the theatre during the interval just to watch the teamwork of the stagehands with mops clearing it away in time for the next act to begin.
I confess to being both a Gene Kelly addict and a fan of the film and so I approached this stage version (arriving in the West End via the Chichester Festival Theatre) with some trepidation. How do you top the film that is widely regarded (although not when it was made) as the greatest Hollywood Musical? The answer, of course, is that they can’t BUT instead the whole production and performance team has given London a scintillating, hilarious and massively enjoyable show.
Andrew Wright’s choreography leaves us with enough iconic moments from the original to make it comfortable but adds in plenty of his own touches. His remake of the Broadway Melody ballet sequence is respectful, yet refreshing. Several of the dance team are not long out of training and there is a prevailing, infectious air of enthusiasm and freshness throughout the ensemble numbers. Cooper, of course, is a dancer through and through and while I doubt there is much desire left in him to turn double assembles through the air, he still spins elegantly and his tapping is excellent. We know he can dance but, more to the point, he can sing and act well enough to merit the “song-and-dance-man” tag. At times, his low range sounded uncannily like Kelly.
The whole cast is excellent but I pay special tribute to Scarlett Strallen’s velvet voice (in the Debbie Reynolds role of Kathy Selden) and Katherine Kingsley’s excellent, comic portrayal of Lina Lamont, the squeaky-voiced silent film diva whom Selden selflessly dubs through the transition into “talkies”. Kingsley was so often the scene-stealer but the lead trio of Cooper, Strallen and Daniel Crossley (as Cosmo Brown) were tightly co-ordinated throughout the other main number ( ‘Good Morning’ ). Cooper and Crossley also combined excellently in a solid song-and-tap routine with David Lucas in ‘Moses Supposes’ and Crossley managed the near impossible task of singing ‘Make ‘em Laugh’ through a range of physical tricks. After filming this number in Hollywood, the original Cosmo, Donald O’Connor was hospitalised!
The film extracts of Monumental Pictures last silent film ( ‘The Royal Rascal’ ) and first talkie ( ‘The Dancing Cavalier’ ) are crucial plot devices and were done to perfection. Which brings me back to the rain. Originally, the song was to have been performed by all three film stars (Kelly, Reynolds and O’Connor) and the publicity photos of the trio in their yellow galoshes survived the decision for the song to be performed solo by Kelly (famously over a 2-day shoot in which he was ill with a temperature up to 103°). Here, the production pays homage to both ideas with Cooper delivering the solo, which while not an identical twin to the film is certainly a kissing cousin, and then Cooper, Strallen and Crossley leading out the finale as the yellow mac brigade. The people in the first few rows certainly get wet but listening to them on the way out, all was laughter without an inkling of complaint – even on a drearily cold February evening!
I rarely think of going back to see a performance as soon as it ends, but this was certainly such an occasion. It’s a glorious feeling, being happy again. Those lucky cherubs get to see it every night!
Review: Graham Watts
