Review: THAT'LL BE THE DAY, London Palladium

Celebrating 40 years on the road, That’ll Be The Day pitched up at the London Palladium, the grand old spiritual home of light entertainment variety shows, for a Gala Performance filled with songs and sketches and jokes old and new. A decent house turned out on a filthy Tuesday night in February, but one can’t help thinking that the format lends itself more to sunny holiday camp weekenders or summer extravaganzas at the end of the pier. 

As ever, the secret to shows like this lies in an embrace of the format. If you don’t want to shout “Behind You!” at the panto, don’t go, and if you don’t want to sing along with feelgood nostalgia tied together with a dose of sentimentality and humour that felt a bit outdated in 1976 never mind 2026, also, don’t go. The fact that so many punters don’t just go but go back, is a testament to the strength of the formula.

The backbone of the show is a playlist of classics that gives a Ready Brek warm glow to any Boomer or a Gen Xer / Gen Zer with an interest in where Tay Tay and Billie got their ideas. In roughly chronological order, supported by video projection, we start with the invention of the teenager in the 50s and, from Bill Haley, via Elvis, John and Paul, Mick and Keith and on to Debbie Harry’s “Sunday Girl”, we hear great songs delivered at breakneck speed. Singers and musicians alike seem to be enjoying it as much as the oldies swaying to the oldies in the stalls.

The drawback is that the quality of the singers varies. Trevor Payne, director and producer of the show, and his long time collaborator, Gary Anderson, are both getting on a bit now and it’s a stretch for them to reach the high registers that pop music demands. You notice that keenly when they’re joined by the youthful Tom Ball or when they hand over singing duties to the trio of accomplished female singers. The high point of the show was an excellent “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers”, the song most suited to the vocalists’ range. Too often, one felt the spectre of the Music For Pleasure LPs you used to find in motorway service stations in the 70s, a dolly bird on the cover - ie, not quite the real thing. 

All the songs are treated much the same way, whether it be Carole King’s achingly beautiful tale of a teenage girl’s vulnerability "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" or John Lennon’s nervous breakdown cri-de-coeur “Help!” or The Rubettes’ “Sugar Baby Love”. This show doesn’t ask its audience to think, it asks them to enjoy and they take that advice.

Obviously a production like this will not have the budget of a big Vegas show or Abba Voyage a few miles east (nor, to be fair, the ticket prices either), but there’s a cavalcade of colourful costumes and a positive avalanche of wigs that ensures that there’s always something to look at and a sense of a big night out. There’s a genuine rapport that builds across the fourth wall too - in a media full of snarls, it does you good to see so many smiles.

Checking in at three hours runtime, it either outstays its welcome by 30 minutes or gives full value for money - delete to taste. That said, to critique anything about this show is to argue with hundreds of thousands who have seen its various iterations since 1986 and gone home happy, tapping their toes to their favourite tunes. Which is exactly what I did. 

That'll Be The Day is on tour

Photo images: Jessie Hawkes