It’s seventy long years since Gene Kelly hung from a movie lamppost and went singing, dancing and splashing in the rain and since Donald O’Connor danced vertically up a wall just to make ’em laugh. It’s nigh on forty years since Tommy Steele starred in the first onstage version. But still we love it, so here we are now with another chirpy, humorous production of Singin’ In The Rain, full of song, dance, colour and splendour.
The hills of Hollywoodland sit pretty above the handsome set for movie-making Monumental Studios – a monumental set, upon which all scenes take place, both indoor and dry, and outdoor and drenching wet. As strategic props and bustling cast (and water) come and go, all singing and dancing talents are magnificently aided and abetted by memorable music and a lively orchestra. Superb lighting conjures up tastefully subdued work-a-day drabness as well as glamour, with the bold blocks of glorious, vibrant colour that fill the clean-lined Art Deco geometry always beautiful and atmospheric, never brash. Sumptuous, too, in style, elegance and flow, are the divine 1920’s outfit creations, especially the women’s, particular delights for eye and mind.
The storyline remains close to the original, set at the end of 1920s when sound recording is suddenly invented and celebrity silent movie stars Don (full-of-himself) Lockwood and beautiful (but deluded) Lina Lamont, played by Sam Lips and Jenny Gaynor, are forced to supplement their silent acting skills with speaking. Easier said than done – or in Lina’s case, not at all easily said! Second to the rain that pelts down on the stage, biggest wow and audience favourite is Jenny Gaynor as ego-inflated, tone-deaf Lina. Her tight-throated, ear-mangling nasal whine and ugly, distorted vowels certainly create as much hilarity as Jean Hagen in the 1952 film. Her acting is marvellous, too, and her singing is awful – deliberately and skilfully so, of course.
The girl Don falls for, though, is modest, down-to-earth singer/dancer Kathy Seldon, another favourite, played by Charlotte Gooch, an especially lovely dancer who’s a joy to watch, and a fine singer, too. The chemistry of Lips and Gooch is touching enough to work well, as with Lucky Star in the mist and ladder scene, for example, and in Would You. Clowning around is Ross McLaren as pianist/comedian Cosmo Brown, who repeatedly proclaims in duet with Don during a memorable elocution lesson that Moses Supposes His Toeses Are Roses. And yes, to mass appreciation McLaren does somersault from a vertical wall just to make ’em laugh. The trio’s cheery Good Morning hits the spot, too, and it’s light, bright humour all the way.
Some of the comedy, especially the physical slapstick, does have more of a mechanical delivery than a natural flow, perhaps, since the cast are not polished comedians, but it’s still highly enjoyable. Providing energetic gel, the talented ensemble constantly dances, sings and acts all over the place, while sturdy support comes, from characters like Dora Bailey and R.F. Simpson, and the fantastically talented dancer who performs a slinky, sultry cameo, bathed in glowing, red light. Hugely effective and enjoyable, too, is the cinema-scale screening of pre-recorded sections of Don and Lina’s Duelling Cavalier and Dancing Cavalier in black and white but with crisp, modern-day clarity – a novel experience, perhaps, for youngsters in the audience.
So there’s sparkle, laughter and happiness all the way, plus a lamppost and heavy rain. Exactly what we all need.
Eileen Caiger Gray
Glasgow and Plymouth will see the show next. For more information click here.
