Whitney she ain't. Alexandra Burke steps in to The Bodyguard.

By Helena Payne

Roll up, roll up! Let’s go and see what that girl what’s from off the box has been up to for the last six months. Well, it turns out Alexandra Burke, X Factor victor has been sashaying into the fabulous world of West End musical theatre. She succeeds Heather Headley and Beverly Knight in the iconic role of Rachel Marron made famous in the 1992 movie The Bodyguard starring Whitney Houston. Praise be, it’s the story no one was waiting for, reality starlet attempts to wow audience with mediocre vocals. The experience starts with a bang, literally, there is a bang. And I think that sets the tone for the rest of the evening, some of the most splendidly silly direction and awkward expositional moments combined with flashy dance numbers. Still, when you’re going over a story ten times, who needs character development? She is a star, he is The Bodyguard. End of.

There is a filmic bent to the show keeping proceedings familiar and the beautiful Adelphi provides all the glamour and zazz to get the night off to a flying start. No one gave me the memo as to when it was appropriate to clap, but it turns out it’s all the time. Perhaps I am used to watching West End actors hit their notes with ease as it’s their job so didn’t feel the need to applaud every lung slugger, maybe it’s just me. The stage is stark and works as a series of frames flying in to draw focus. My favourite moments included a Karaoke love jam where Burke modestly steps up to the mic and suddenly it’s as if the two of them are alone in the room. Then, in a mere 45 seconds of whirring and cranking the supporting ensemble wizzes off either side and they are alone in the room! Genius, although I was concerned at the speed of their departure, it looked like one poor dancer could potentially claim for whiplash. Another choice piece of staging included The Stalker played by Michael Rouse reflected through some weird mirror onto a horizontal plane so we could all see his twisted world. It was like he was in another world, perhaps the sick world of his damaged mind? Profound.

To be honest though, this show succeeds or fails with the strength of the lead. Alexandra Burke looks every inch the mega star, she holds herself with poise and works the crowd like the experienced show-woman she is. She clearly enjoys playing the diva, and her Rachel Marron is a very modern and recognisable (Beyonce ahem) superstar. In the lower register, her voice is strong and husky, however the songs are all transposed down considerably and she still strains to sail to Whitney’s heights. Mid register, her tone can be aspirated and she does not seem to have the vocal dexterity needed for the iconic runs on those admittedly very difficult classic songs. She is definitely in her element when singing, the feeling comes naturally compared to some strange choices during the acting scenes. These included chopping vegetables angrily to denote that she was angry, slamming a mug down to emphasise “she's had enough.” In fairness, without these pointers we may have been none the wiser.

It’s always a bit awkward when it comes to casting when the girl playing the over-looked sister shines too brightly to be believably snubbed. Carole Stennet inhabits every breath of Rachel’s neglected sister Nikki, she is vulnerable and determined, and imbues every lyric with effortless emotion. When she wants to bring out the big guns, her belt is something even Whitney might be proud of. Tristan Gemmill playing The Bodyguard is the grizzled love child of Sam Shepard and Mickey Rourke and puts in a strong performance as a homogenised dark and brooding Alpha male. He feels wonderfully nineties and something of a rarity in our metrosexually inclined culture. Michael Rouse as The Stalker felt a peculiar choice, believably sinister and unstable, he was also pretty impressive whilst unexplainably shirtless. It may be personal taste, but I wouldn’t be setting the hired help after a stalker who looked like that.

The second half begins oddly. We see a post coital sleeping Farmer whilst Marron serenades him with the number All the Man that I need. Unfortunately, this song includes the lyrics “he fills me up,” and the audience lose themselves shrieking with delight as they put two and two together to make four. Musical theatre often benefits from being self-aware and Burke thankfully throws a glance out to the audience on the second chorus just to indicate she’s also in on the joke. However the jeopardy is real from this point as they embark on their relationship and The Stalker becomes more enraged and determined. To get away from it all, they retire to Farmer’s family home and a giant log cabin swings into centre stage. However, the distance is not enough to stop a rogue SAS trained killer and Nikki falls foul of mistaken identity whilst wearing her sister’s slinky dressing gown. Still, within minutes Burke has bounced back to the task in hand, winning that pesky Oscar. It’s what Nikki would have wanted, surely? And just in case we still weren’t sure which way the plot was going The Stalker skulks onto the stage and directs a laser pointer at a giant poster of Rachel Marron. I can only guess, but I think she might be next.

Is there any point to this? Almost certainly not, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t fit into the category of “art for art’s sake” either. The show would benefit from a stronger lead and not patronising its audience so unashamedly. The production is just another notch in favour of trained performers against the tide of celebrity chancers. A special mention must go to the costume department for a selection of knitwear even the Edinburgh Woollen Mill would be proud of. Despite the moments of mind-numbing reiteration, there are still several unanswered questions. What happened to The Stalker after he shoots at Rachel at the Oscars? Fletcher, Rachel’s adorable son quite rightly asks if they will be safe now. To which Farmer replies he will “never let anyone hurt them,” despite leaving to go and work in Washington. We might as well take his word for it because now there are people dancing in sequins and the audience are on their feet clapping along to Dance with Somebody. Fuck it, I’m dancing too, Whitney was great wasn't she.

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