THE CHOIR OF MAN

What an extraordinary entertainment this is, despite being staged in a conventional theatre it amazingly manages to create the atmosphere of a real pub. Not I might add a modern pub, all wine and gastronomic pretensions, no an old school “local”, the backstreet boozers where we gathered to quaff pints, eat crisps and pork scratchings and meet our mates. How I miss that relaxed, convivial atmosphere, the place were you maundered with locals, not friends as such but faces familiar, characters, oddballs, eccentrics… definitely a time gone by as the British boozer rapidly is disappearing.

But here we have it illustrated, an elegy to a time gone by and a time that may soon be lost forever as prices soar and habits change.

The Jungle, our fictional pub, is packed with men, it’s a male only world until a few women are plucked from the audience, and these men are all rather young, single and fairly fit. There’s no old codger sat in the corner savouring slowly a pint of mild, no old biddy with a G&T,

And that is rather a shame. But what we do have is a bar full of exuberant energy, an energy which at the very start is alarmingly full on, noisy and so loud that any attempt to comprehend the lyrics is futile. I was initially less than engaged I have to admit.

But pretty soon I was being carried along by the sheer enthusiasm, both on and off stage, as the company delivered very finely performed songs, exactingly executed movement, choreographed chaos I thought, the bustle and bluster of a busy bar.

There is excellent musicianship at work here, a delicious bass baritone voice, and an astonishing tap routine, and in an addition a stand in with a soaring falsetto delivering a Queen number perfectly. And the company all play a variety of instruments too.

It is in some ways something of a jukebox musical but then again not, little attempt is made to shoehorn the songs into the plot and in truth there is no plot, so it’s all the better for that. The whole is sort of narrated by one character who talks about community, talks about his beer swilling pals and strings the whole together. At times it becomes a little preachy, but preaching about the demise of our pub heritage is in my view no bad thing. And that whole community thread is taken to an extraordinary level when the deputy MD comes out and introduces a local community choir to join them in a reprise of a spine tingling arrangement of Chandelier, 109 voices filling Theatre Royal Brighton with genuine joy, hats off to The Buskerteers. The whole closes with a truly delightful a cappella folk song, eight voices in crystal clear harmony, barely amplified if at all and how I wished that more of the show had been delivered so sensitively. That’s me nit-picking, this is an evening of fun, sentimental, heartfelt fun and performed by a very skilful ensemble who genuinely seem to be having as much fun as the audience.

Andrew Kay

21 April

Theatre Royal Brighton

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