This afternoon Owen and I stepped back in time and to quote Simone Signoret's autobiography "Nostalgia isn't what it used to be". We went to the Menier Chocolate Factory to see the first London revival of the 1978 Neil Simon/Marvin Hamlisch/Carole Bayer Sager musical THEY'RE PLAYING OUR SONG. The show has not been seen in London for 26 years. I guess all good things must come to an end.
It started as it meant to go on with an outdoor rave happening next door so the auditorium was rattled by the thump-thump of the dance music. Proceedings were held up for about ten minutes while the police were called, despite them not having a licence the best that happened was a couple of speakers were turned off and the show started. Well, we got the first scene... then director Fiona Laird appeared and there was another break while they tried to quieten the neighbours again to no avail. Despite the offer of a refund or replacement tickets for later in the run, the mainly elderly audience voiced their Dunkirk spirit and voted for the show to continue.
Vernon Gersche (Alistair McGowan) is a hugely successful songwriter with Academy and Tony Awards - just like Marvin Hamlisch - who is unsuccessful in love and Sonia Walsk (Connie Fisher) is an upcoming pop lyricist - just like Carole Bayer Sager - who are paired by their agents to collaborate on some songs. Soon they are involved romantically - just like Hamlisch & Bayer Sager. But guess what Constant Reader? The course of true love doesn't run smoothly. By the time of the London opening Hamlisch and Bayer Sager had split up, leaving us with this musical testament to their relationship. Cheers.
Frankly I am at a loss as to why it's been revived. It is another in the canon of shows where great individual talents combine to produce a not-so-great piece. I have always liked the bouncy title song and the first two songs are promising - the ballad FALLING and uptempo WORKIN' IT OUT are good show songs but the rest of the Hamlisch & Bayer Sager score is blander than the blandest thing - these people are supposed to be fantastic songwriters for God's sake. In the first scene Sonia gushes that the only person comparable to Vernon is Stephen Sondheim. Yeah, right. It's interesting to note that THEY'RE PLAYING OUR SONG opened during the same Broadway season as SWEENEY TODD.

Neil Simon's book is woeful - what should be wisecracks full dead to the stage and just sound facile. The idea of an offstage character is annoying too. Sonia's ex-boyfriend is dragged into every scene as a way of causing conflict between them in an absurd way - so the character is expanded to fill any turn in the plot - he's left her, he's back, he might have taken an overdose, he is in LA, he's in the same hospital, he's actually not a bad bloke.... Augh! Simon also has the bright idea of providing a possible Greek chorus of three alter-egos for the two characters but never utilises them to do anything but provide backing vocals.
Silk purses have been made from sow's ears before but it's difficult to know where to start with what is wrong with this production but you have to start with the fact that McGowan and Fisher have zero charisma. McGowan is giving us a nerdy Woody Allen character pitched low while Fisher is giving an over-the-top, cartoon character pitched way Up HERE. It really is an annoying performance - she is giving us zany and kooky with flapping hands and all you want to do is have her sectioned. In a big argument scene towards the end Sonia accuses Vernon of not treating her like a human being - it would help if she had suggested one in the previous scenes. She certainly sings sweetly but that sadly isn't enough. Still, the audience I suspect was full of people who see her as the People's Diva so she was clapped loudly. Left to me she would have been clapped in irons... it would have stopped those am-dram hands.

Fiona Laird's production runs out of steam and falls back on ramping up the 70s setting - to annoying effect. When you are putting all your energy into the set design then it shows distrust of your material. The wigs are vile - sadly Our Connie has to play her big dramatic scene with what appears to be a cowpat on her head - and the design is BOB - Beige, Orange & Brown. We lived through it once, we don't need to again.

The Menier has now a good reputation for staging musical revivals - SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH GEORGE, LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS, LA CAGE AUX FOLLES - I can think of plenty of shows that are worth being revisited - surely one read-through should have shown the production team this wasn't one of them.