Aliya Al-Hassan — Theater Critic

Musically is where the show really stumbles. A day after viewing, I was struggling to recall a single melody. The production is distinctly lacking in memorable tunes or truly witty lines. There are also too many tracks shoe-horned into an already busy production. "House of Miranda" explores the identity of Miranda and the magazine. The staging and choreography is slick, but the song itself lacks impact. Act 1 closer, "The Devil Wears Prada", performed at the ball, has an oddly country-inflected chorus and fails to sum up the glitz or excitement of the event.

If you think folk songs and sea shanties are unlikely to make a hit musical, prepare to be very pleasantly surprised. The show is jam-packed with top quality, empathetic and carefully crafted songs, from the loud and vibrant to delicate and moving ballads. The music pulls you into the immersive quality of the show, with such flow and fluidity that a rumoured cast recording is surely inevitable. If you liked Come From Away or Once, you will fall in love with this score.

The ill-advised hook-up that quickly stutters and the couple's arguments feel authentic; shouting over each other, voices and frustrations rising higher and higher. There are twists in the tale; some obvious, some less so. But overall, the production fails to rise above feeling contrived: it doesn't ring true that Manuel fails to ask Irene to leave as soon he tires of her and it also seems odd that Irene herself would run to the door, but not actually leave when things take on a more sinister tone.

One of the great successes of the production is just how pared-back it is. The story could easily have leant into a huge cast and multiple sets, but the three actors remain in the same costumes, within the same set throughout, accompanied by a solo piano. The story and direction remains the same, but it is always fascinating to see how different actors create their own characters. This trio of Anglo-American actors are simply stellar, making the execution of all their parts look effortless.

It's an impressive performance from Rylance and some of the audience seemed to love this interpretation, but I found it interrupted the flow of the production and made his portrayal, at least in the first half of the show, almost pantomime in tone. It also did not fit with the register of the rest of the cast, creating a feeling of disconnection and  awkwardness.

Comparison to SIX is inevitable, even though what the two shows are trying to do is completely different. While SIX is laser-sharp with not a wasted moment, by contrast, Why Am I So Single? feels somewhat flabby. It's hard to think of anyone who would not enjoy SIX, while this show is so deliberately focused on Gen-Z, it risks excluding other generations who will simply miss its very specific jokes and references. Perhaps that is the point.

The lavish production reunites the inimitable Imelda Staunton with director Dominic Cooke, following the huge success of Follies at The National Theatre. Staunton plays the eponymous Dolly with a permanent twinkle in her eye as the mischievous matchmaker, showing incredible energy throughout. Her stage presence is wonderful and the role feels as though it was written for her; she is funny, dynamic and cheeky, yet full of genuine emotion and heart.

The production is an incredible creative feat. Tim Hatley's set design, Howard Hudson's lighting and Andrzej Goulding's video design meld perfectly to maintain a fantastical visual spectacle. A planetary system descends from the ceiling, a beautiful star-scape envelops the auditorium in the second half and, of course, the racetracks and ramps weave around the auditorium to enable the cast to immerse the whole audience with their skating as they glide by.

As a two-hander, this production is at its most powerful. The addition of parliamentary protection officer Mellor adds little more than David Brent-style commentary to the situation. Zachary Hart commits to the role, but is left with the rather one-dimensional attitude that the only future is one where MPs wear stab vests.

Now a stage musical, John Cassavetes’ 1977 film Opening Night was a commercial flop when it was released, later becoming something of a cult classic of American independent cinema. Director Ivo van Hove specialises in bringing work to the stage that may be called “challenging”. Challenging can be hugely successful, but I’ve rarely seen a production more determined to confuse and frustrate an audience.

For most theatre-goers, Jez Butterworth’s work will always live in the shadow of Jerusalem. The Hills of California is no exception, which is a shame as it is close to greatness. It is thought-provoking, heartbreaking and multi-layered, but it could be exceptional.

Ulster American is filled with the blackest humour; Ireland is a writer who often makes you laugh, then immediately consider whether you should have done so. The production feels so compelling in large part to the incredible performances from the three actors involved.

Lucy Kirkwood (book and lyrics) and Dave Malloy (music and lyrics) make a remarkable duo with huge wit and warmth, capturing the magic of Dahl's writing, without dumbing down the darkness. One slightly unwelcome theme is the repetition of certain words or phrases at the end of many of the songs; over and over again. The length, at nearly three hours including interval, may be a bit of a stretch for younger audience members and a few sections of the second half meander a little. However, most of the production whips by in a stream of pure entertainment. Inevitable comparisons will be made with the juggernaut that is Matilda The Musical. While this show is not quite at that point, it is certainly snapping at Matilda's heels.

Skinner won acclaim for her 2011 Royal Court Play The Village Bike, but while that play cleverly overturned stereotypes about expectant mothers, here the writing feels amateurish and chaotic. We feel bombarded by issues, none of which are properly explored: #MeToo, coercive control, womens’ struggles with work/life balance, comedy, drama, trauma. It’s perfectly possible to combine all these themes, just not here.

Bernadette Peters takes over Judi Dench’s role in the concert with a heartbreaking, stripped back rendition of “Send In The Clowns”. She also holds the audience in the palm of her hand with a highly emotional version of “Losing My Mind” from Follies, which captures Sondheim's skill at character introspection so beautifully.

<span style='caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: -webkit-standard; font-size: medium;'>The story of the cockney flower girl trained to speak and act like a duchess by a phonetics professor has two central characters that give the actors a huge amount to get their teeth into. The issue is that this production has a sense of detachment so we never feel like we get to the real heart of the plot or characters. Shaw's observations about class and social expectations are pretty much lost.</span><br>

Zoo Nation's Kate Prince is ostensibly a choreographer and director, but this show also features her lyrics and book, written with Priya Parmar. This is the crux of the show's weakness; it simply tries to fit too much in. It is odd that the show spends a few scant minutes on the time leading up to everyone receiving the vote in 1928, but languishes on Sylvia's relationship with Keir Hardie and overlong lampooning of a hen-pecked Churchill. Although thoughtfully staged, it is also hard to shed a tear at the death of Sylvia's brother when he is an unknown character.

Those expecting an exploration into the bank's role in the financial crisis will be disappointed; despite beginning and ending the show, we never get into the mechanics of the causes and the final crash does feel a little rushed. However, this is not really what the play is about. It's about family ties, overarching ambition and a cautionary tale about the so-called American dream.

The actors lack tangible chemistry, but both hold their own with convincing characterizations. Lemons forces the audience to contemplate the horror of a wordless life, but outstays its welcome. The intrigue of the concept is unexplored; it remains an idea, not a fully-formed conclusion.