Perth Theatre
2 stars
When the lights go up on Graham McLaren’s new version of Sweeney Todd’s adventures with razors one could be forgiven for mistaking it for a cut-price version of Shockheaded Peter. Kevin McMonagle’s hang-dog rather than demonic snipper’s barber-shop above the Lovett’s pie-making emporium is a higgledy-piggledy pop-up book affair. On the roof sit Michael Marra and his fellow musicians resplendent in Tiger Lillies pasty-face and titfer ensemble as they serve up a junk-yard commentary on events down below.
As emotively illustrative as Marra’s gravel-voiced punctuations are, they’re pretty much the only thing this stylistically derivative mish-mash of student-revue level theatrics has going for it. Beyond a script chock-full of adolescent innuendo that’s all pearl necklaces and characters being taken up the rickety stair-well, there’s a whole nature versus nurture debate shaping the mass murder that follows in riot-torn 18th century London. Where Sweeney can blame the parents, object of his affections turned good cause and collaborator Mrs Lovett is toughened up by poverty and domestic abuse.
Gabriel Quigley nevertheless serves up an eye-rolling comic turn as Mrs Lovett, even if she does seem to have absorbed her vocal inflections from Alison Steadman in Abigail’s Party. As director, devisor and designer, McLaren favours hammed-up gothic over-load in a 90 minute melodrama that shouldn’t in any way be taken seriously.
If The Demon Barber had been served up as part of Oran Mor’s lunchtime theatre season, it would have been perfectly pie-tastic premature panto fare. As part of a main stage rep season, however, it’s all gristle and very little meat; hard to swallow with nothing substantial in the way of filling.
The Herald, November 12th 2007
ends
2 stars
When the lights go up on Graham McLaren’s new version of Sweeney Todd’s adventures with razors one could be forgiven for mistaking it for a cut-price version of Shockheaded Peter. Kevin McMonagle’s hang-dog rather than demonic snipper’s barber-shop above the Lovett’s pie-making emporium is a higgledy-piggledy pop-up book affair. On the roof sit Michael Marra and his fellow musicians resplendent in Tiger Lillies pasty-face and titfer ensemble as they serve up a junk-yard commentary on events down below.
As emotively illustrative as Marra’s gravel-voiced punctuations are, they’re pretty much the only thing this stylistically derivative mish-mash of student-revue level theatrics has going for it. Beyond a script chock-full of adolescent innuendo that’s all pearl necklaces and characters being taken up the rickety stair-well, there’s a whole nature versus nurture debate shaping the mass murder that follows in riot-torn 18th century London. Where Sweeney can blame the parents, object of his affections turned good cause and collaborator Mrs Lovett is toughened up by poverty and domestic abuse.
Gabriel Quigley nevertheless serves up an eye-rolling comic turn as Mrs Lovett, even if she does seem to have absorbed her vocal inflections from Alison Steadman in Abigail’s Party. As director, devisor and designer, McLaren favours hammed-up gothic over-load in a 90 minute melodrama that shouldn’t in any way be taken seriously.
If The Demon Barber had been served up as part of Oran Mor’s lunchtime theatre season, it would have been perfectly pie-tastic premature panto fare. As part of a main stage rep season, however, it’s all gristle and very little meat; hard to swallow with nothing substantial in the way of filling.
The Herald, November 12th 2007
ends
Comments