SUNNY AFTERNOON

Photographs: Manuel Harlan

At the heart of any successful piece of theatre and above all I expect a good and well crafted story. You can throw as much glitter, tech and tat at almost anything and make it shine but the story is what matters and with a musical of course, the songs.

Sunny Afternoon is pretty much devoid of that glitter, tech and tat formulaic approach, and it is all the better for it. The story, whilst being delivered with no shortage of humour, is gritty and borders on tragic. The exploitation of a bunch of working class teenage lads by the wheels of the pop industry not only impacts them financially but also mentally. It’s not a story unique to The Kinks but it is the machinations of Machiavellian music moguls that almost finished off the careers and the brilliant music of one of the greatest songwriters and bands of the late 20th century.

Writer Joe Penhall has artfully taken the story, written by Ray Davies, and wrought a very tightly conceived musical. This is no jukebox show, but cleverly the songs are placed, either in moments where they were conceived in the line of the narrative then occasionally where the lyrics are appropriate to what is happening. Nothing here feels accidental, gratuitous or out of place. The excitement of the creation of the early hits to the deepening depression and despair of a band torn apart.

As a music lover, and a Kinks fan, I loved that the cast created the music live and recreated that original sound, by using the exact period instruments, so pleasingly. I stopped counting how many different guitars were being brought on stage by what could only be described as a guitar wrangler, but I estimate that there must have been nigh on £100,000 of Gibsons, Fenders and the like. The set is equally impressive, three walls of speakers place us in a timeless world of music, star spangled banners shift us to the USA and the whole is lit sparingly, no whirling effects to speak of, a level of restraint that works so well.

I have come this far without even a mention of one member of the cast, so impressive is the production. For the most part the company take on multiple roles, parents, agents, managers, union officials, groupies and girlfriends, multiple quick changes of costume and character, the whole moves forward seamlessly.

It seems unfair to name just a few but I will, Tam Williams is so delightfully posh and out of place as Grenville Collins, Phil Corbett makes an excellent Davies father and a brilliant Allen Klein and Deryn Edwards pops up variously but is particularly sharp as Mrs Davies a tough Muswell Hill mum. Joseph Richardson is so good in every role he has to deliver but particularly as Robert Wace. And blow me if they nearly all have to step up and play an instrument, leaping from drums, to guitars, banjo and trombone, and at times dancing too, quadruple threats!

Lisa Wright plays Rasa, Ray’s Lithuanian/Bradford wife. It’s a role filled with both tragedy and with comedy and it is perfectly balanced in delivery.

Finally we get to the band. Harry Curley is Pete Quaife, the gentle and slightly fragile bass player, filled with doubt about his place in the band and ultimately wanting to leave. When not rocking out it is a delicately delivered portrayal.

Mick Avory, the more robust drummer is played by Zakarie Stokes and not only does he have some great lines but also delivers a thunderously impressive drum solo after which he reveals that he has just seen his drum hero Buddy Rich, at The Hollywood Bowl.

And it is that disastrous American tour that nearly finishes of the band, as they say, a bunch of socialist working class lads destroyed almost by the unions, the irony.

Dave Davies is the lead guitarist, and the wild child, drinking, womanising and cross-dressing. He is the polar opposite to his brother, loud and ambitious, the sibling rivalry ever present as Ray becomes the popular figurehead of rock phenomenon. Oliver Hoare is a fireball of unbridled and uncontrolled energy, swinging from chandeliers, head butting assailants and thrashing the guitars. It is an epic performance in every sense from the violence to the delicate way he picks out those iconic guitar licks.

At the centre of the whole is Ray Davies, the dreamy, aspirational song writer who we are told simply plucks those hits from out of the ether. Davies was a troubled soul, conflicted, at moments confident and others a wreck. America sent him into a medication calmed depression, fame fed both his highs and his lows, sending him from charismatic to cowering wreck. There’s nothing cowering however about Danny Horn’s delivery of the role. Those staring eyes, the angry outbursts, the shuffling despair and tender moments of love for his often lonely wife. And loneliness is perhaps a key to the character, that feeling of being alone even when adored and surrounded by friends, family and fans, misplaced and, in his head, he is misunderstood.

This revival of the show is well deserved and precisely delivered, Edward Hall’s direction is fast paced and confident when needed and delicate when not.

I sat behind a boy, perhaps 10 years old, and he was blown away by the show. To my right a man a few years older than me, equally excited as he relived his teenage years. As a cross generational experience it is second to none, as a piece of theatre it is pretty damned perfect for certain.

Of course the songs are just brilliant, pop classics but without a great story and script this would merely be a tribute show. This ticks all the boxes and, dare I say it, would be an equally fascinating and engaging piece of theatre without those songs!

That said, keep them in!

Andrew Kay

17 December

Theatre Royal Brighton

Rating: