Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living In Paris, Charing Cross Theatre

By Megan Prosser

“ ’Til the rancid sound of the accordion busts” Megan Prosser, long time Brel devotee goes underground expecting grittiness, but instead finds a surprisingly pleasant and smooth interpretation.

“Cake or Death?”, as Eddie Izzard would famously have it.

“Cake or Death?”

“Umm, death please– no! Cake! Cake! Sorry!”

“You said death first!”

“No, I meant cake!…”

With Brel, the question might as well be “Sex or Death”, because in every one of his songs you’re going to get one or the other. Or both. And War.

Jacques Brel was a cynic, with a violent and raw persona that was completely visible in his sweaty, heart-rending performances. His songs, 99% autobiography, and STORIES, each and every one, were as popular in 1960’s Europe as the work of Elvis, and endure today as both hugely popular, and deliciously subversive.

When bringing Brel to the stage, the duty and the aim is to ensure that the audience hear every, single, word. The performers’ part of this bargain is to sing these words as if it is for the first time, every time. The audience’s part of the bargain, is to cling to these words with complete attention.

On Monday night at The Charing Cross Theatre, this devilish deal was struck, and together, Cast, Crew, and Crowd, set about conjouring up the ghost of Jacques. The accordion strain frames the start and finish of the first half of Andrew Keates’ new production. A bit like Kander and Ebb’s Cabaret, if the band are going to be onstage, they need to be grotesque. But technically excellent this band certainly were, and on we went.

The structure of JBIAAW, with the Musical Revue style meaning there is no through-plot, relies on the contrast between Young and Old. We have the Young Man, singing about the girl who he will marry in “Bachelor’s Song”, and the Young Woman clutching her valises and heading, wide-eyed to the city in “Timid Frieda”. Meanwhile, the Older Man reflects on his wasted and lost youth, with a substantial amount of humor to be found in “Jackie” – that wonderful, autobiographical revel of debauchery, and extreme “triste” in the melancholy “Fanette” (those tears! Plaudits to David Burt)

Eva Polycarpou, playing the Older Woman, really won all the prizes for authenticity. I would say, that whilst being obviously proficient and skilled performers, the younger actors were a little bit earnest, and didn't really give themselves over to the dirty abandon of Brel, sticking instead to a more polished performance.

Given the audiences that one would hope this Off-West End production will reach, and in such a cool little space as the under-railway theatre, it wouldn’t have hurt for the younger cast members to have been a little bit grittier like their more mature counterparts. Even when “Timid Frieda” herself became a whore at the end of the third verse, or during rock version of “La Mort”, complete with Brian May guitar riffs, things remained a little safe – with beautiful, clear singing and a purity which refused to be adulterated by any amount of thrusting and grinding.

Jacques Brel, strange-looking toothy fellow that he was, was sexy because he always had a twinkle, a complete individuality, and an incredible physicality. David Burt had a strong resemblance to Brel, which was an excellent touch, and exhibited huge emotional depth along with this raw physicality. But again, it was classic Berliner Cabaret vibrato sound courtesy of Eve Polycarpou – clearly a seasoned Brel performer, that was the highlight. Polycarpou uses language like a weapon, and sings in protest in the first instance, rather than purely to show off her powerful and melodic voice. Brel himself would have shaken her hand as she expertly delivered his work and fascinated and appalled in equal measure.

In terms of audience engagement – all of the actors were adept at playing to the front, and creating a sense of intimacy. On this note, “Ne me quitte pas” really is one of the most memorable moments. A familiar song thanks to Dusty Springfield and a host of other artists, it as always is more powerful in the original French, given that “don’t leave me…” is a much more powerful sentiment than the flaccid “if you go away…”, and an added tenderness was given by Polycarpou as she perched on the edge of the stage and watched her invisible lover walk out of her life without a backwards glance.

Brel songs, like Kander and Ebb, and Brecht, and Kurt Weill are songs for actors. Performers need to be less afraid to hit a bum note, and act it for all they’re worth, taking time to experiment with the speak-singing style that Brel himself used, and ensuring that at all times the meaning comes before the singing. This Revue style means that this show would work just as well in the spacious upstairs bar, where the audience could have reveled and drowned their sorrows like a bunch of Brel’s randy Dutch sailors (if you don’t understand what I mean, you’ll need to see the show).

However, using the stage did of course give the chance for a few dances, which added a nice variety and “joie de vivre”. This production has some brilliant moments, reaching at several key points the dark, dark depths into which die-hard Brel fans will want to plunge. In addition, I'm sure it will turn many first-timers to his work, and for that, I sincerely admire the production.

@postscriptjour

Charing Cross Theatre

Box Office:08444 930 650

Booking until 22nd November

http://www.charingcrosstheatre.co.uk/

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