Memphis, Shaftesbury Theatre

By E.L Hardy

Memphis is outrageously good: As soon as the onstage band strike up the opening chords of David Bryan's peppy, soulful score, the overwhelming compulsion to boogie in your chair cannot be resisted; jaw-dropping, head-shaking exhilaration stems from Sergio Trujillo's exuberant choreography; and goose bumps perforate the length of your arms as a result of the impeccable vocals - for which the whole cast are guilty. These key ingredients dominate, allowing the audience to forgive the typically flimsy plot which falls apart in the second act...

"I'm not sure what just happened."

"Who cares? Did you SEE that lift?!"

Joe DiPietro and David Bryan's musical is a spectacle, and what spectacles need - more than bright lights and one-liners - are spectacular leads. Most recently, Killian Donnelly could be found munching chips and coarsely readjusting his underwear in The Commitments, but now, demonstrating further skill and versatility, the wild showman graces Memphis with his embodiment of renegade disc-jockey, Huey. He is the loveable, unlikely hero; gawky, poor and awkward, like We Will Rock You's Galileo or Little Shop's Seymour Krelborn. Donnelly bounds about the stage like a crazed pup, gripping us with Disneyesque enthusiasm and vocal prowess. Alongside him, as driven soul singer Felicia, is Beverly Knight. Granted, a narrower emotional range is required of Knight here than in her previous role as Rachel Marron in The Bodyguard, but her sassy, climactic belters - complete with trills and fists of pure emotion - exceed all expectations, wowing the vocal Shaftesbury Theatre audience.

Memphis was sold to me, pretty accurately, as a fusion of Hairspray and Dreamgirls however, its narrative lacks the clarity of either of these predecessors. Huey - infectiously positive like Hairspray's Tracy Turnblad - sees beyond the Southern racial divide and falls for Felicia. Felicia - as determined to succeed as Dreamgirl's Deena Jones (Beyoncé) - soon weakens for white Huey's rugged charm. Unwilling to pay heed to consequences, Huey puts the cat among the proverbial pigeons, even talking his way onto the radio so that he might share Felicia's "race music." But then, come Act Two, it seems to go awry.

I won't pretend to understand the way in which the plot progresses; I'm still not sure what actually happens at the end - whether it's supposed to be happy, or not. The ambiguities in the show's conclusion jar alongside the otherwise uplifting and positive messages busting out of this high-kicking, effervescent show. Does subversion triumph? Does love conquer all? It seems perhaps not. Still, never mind all that; Memphis has so many deliciously funny and technically impressive moments that even this old cynic found occasional cause to whoop. Comparable to Broadway's high octane Kinky Boots, this explosive new West End musical is completely daft, and yet quite simply, unmissable.

Memphis

Shaftesbury Theatre

Tickets HERE

Photo credit: Johan Persson

★★★★

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