Whatever your response to The Choir of Man, it cannot be denied that this musical is a quirky and unusual beast.
Photo © The Other Richard
It has no apparent plot. None of the nine characters have a name, they are simply referred to by the actors’ own names. And it is set in a seemingly regular pub where, bizarrely, every customer is male and allowed to dance on the bar.
It’s a jukebox musical which doesn’t see the need to provide story, characters or any dramatic development to segue from one well-known song to the next; it might as well just be karaoke night at the local boozer. It really shouldn’t work.
And yet it does, and this is largely thanks to the immense wave of good-natured exuberance with which the show carries the audience, barely pausing for breath.
It’s simply an evening at The Jungle (a dated but popular local bar) where nine guys bond and forge real friendships through their shared love of music, eclectically ranging from Chandelier to I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles).
Everyone is drinking heavily throughout the show, yet no-one gets drunk or lairy; it’s a microcosm of an ideal world where men can express affection for each other, where they have found a second family in the pub. Life is rarely like this, but it should be.
It’s a real ensemble piece, with all actors on stage throughout the two-hour running time, and it’s almost meaningless to select standouts with so much talent among these actor-musician-dancers; however Jack Skelton’s utterly hypnotic tap dancing and barman Joshua Lloyd’s stunning vocal range are clearly among the highlights.
They also all play instruments ranging from a battered pub piano to a banjo, and the movement and choreography by Freddie Huddleston is superbly executed by all.
The sheer feel-good factor is heightened considerably by the constant involving of the audience, who are invited before the show and during the interval to go up on stage and buy a pint at the working bar; if you’ve ever wanted to stand on the Theatre Royal stage, now is your chance.
Throughout the show, selected punters are dragged up on stage, given a drink, sung to and danced with, and there is much encouragement from the cast to clap/sing along.
Such aspects, along with throwing bags of crisps into the stalls (some via giant catapult) are incongruously panto-esque, but they work brilliantly at creating a real communion between cast and audience, in a way that few other shows achieve.
It’s a celebration of the power of music to unite people, and its all-male cast highlights the particular need for this from a mental health viewpoint. It’s also a good laugh – where else would you see a song at a urinal complete with, ahem, choreographed waterworks?
And if it encourages you to strike up a friendly conversation with a stranger the next time you’re in the pub, its work here is done. Though if you decide to tap dance on the bar with them, get the landlord’s permission first.
The Choir of Man is showing at Theatre Royal Bath until 28th March. Box office: 01225 448844.
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Reviewer: Steve Huggins
