Kate Mossman

London theatre is in an artistic crisis, obsessed with movie adaptations and casting famous people in one man shows to lure in audiences. How exciting in theory, then, to have a new musical by Rufus Wainwright, with his dual talent of big tunes and lyrics often so poignantly mundane. The story of Myrtle Gordon could be a musical if the music were tender enough – and there is thankfully no dancing. There are some moving moments, like the repeated refrain, in one number, of “she’s not even a housewife!” – what a great line. But the tunes are unmemorable, hookless, adding to the sensory onslaught. There’s a fantastic performance from Nicola Hughes, who starred in Trevor Nunn’s Porgy and Bess: she gets a close up on the big screen, tears rolling down her face, belting her heart out, yet I honestly have no idea what she was upset about, and I was really trying to concentrate.