The sold-out performance of Sweeney Todd at the Criterion was a steamy affair. The theatre, with its uncomfortable fold-up metal chairs and airless auditorium, makes for a very long and uncomfortable evening. Surely, if a theatre invests in a raked auditorium, then continue the fund-raising until decent seating is afforded. Such basic levels of comfort are part of the evening and otherwise detract from the action. Not that there was a lot to detract from. Sweeney Plod would be an apter title for this laborious and uneven production.
Amateurs attempting such an epic is admirable, but basic production values were ignored here. Actors walking in and out of light; lamps that showed the entire arc of a beam but focused messily failed to light a performer's head and the poorly-timed cues (i.e. late), were elements that were noticed for all the wrong reasons. Unfortunately, the production reminded me of a school show. An elementary set of hung old bed sheets hung across the vast width of the stage, some costumes were period but then, oh, a character enters in jeans, circa now. I thought we might have a PTA raffle in the interval, such was the atmosphere.
Sound balance was not considered either. Sometimes, the orchestra (an impressive one at that), was so very loud that even a radio-mic'd performer was drowned out. Weaker singers could not be heard at all and when they were, some were as flat as the omnipresent white sheets that hung behind them. I had to cut my toenails before they curled up anymore. When the whole company was on stage, similar nonsense was thrust on us, like liver hitting a butcher's board. Why is it, then when an amateur company is required to 'react' to a piece of action, suddenly the whole cast becomes an animated group of washer-women hanging out the laundry while gossiping over the fence?
Of the leading players, only Mark Randell in the eponymous role conjured any credibility. As a young man, the actor was a charming leading man. Here though, his performance is devoid of much charisma at all. He has a fine singing voice but his performance, like the show, lacked any direction. Playing the show mostly stage left, I got a crick in my neck trying to watch him. Furthermore, his scenes were almost all played out front, therefore lacking any communion with his scene partners. As for the rest, they tried, bless their hearts. Whereas radio mics were used, sometimes they only served to amplify a bum note of a performer, which were many.
So, who can we blame for this butcher's bin? Certainly director Deb Melton-Elves shows that she understands little in the way of staging. The crowded, shuffling company were without any blocking it seemed and were mostly left to gurn and grimace. Her liaison with her technicians was obviously limited and thus, the whole thing became a lesson in just how not to stage a musical.
The Criterion really needs to think if it should even consider large shows in the future. It may also look to improve the comfort of the theatre, which is dark, windowless and claustrophobic. It may look at air-conditioning the building, which was stiflingly hot and sticky. It may even consider not attempting such luminous work that is so well known and so very difficult even for professionals. Suffice it to say that although I commend the attempt, this Todd was like shaving with a very blunt razor.
Amateurs attempting such an epic is admirable, but basic production values were ignored here. Actors walking in and out of light; lamps that showed the entire arc of a beam but focused messily failed to light a performer's head and the poorly-timed cues (i.e. late), were elements that were noticed for all the wrong reasons. Unfortunately, the production reminded me of a school show. An elementary set of hung old bed sheets hung across the vast width of the stage, some costumes were period but then, oh, a character enters in jeans, circa now. I thought we might have a PTA raffle in the interval, such was the atmosphere.
Sound balance was not considered either. Sometimes, the orchestra (an impressive one at that), was so very loud that even a radio-mic'd performer was drowned out. Weaker singers could not be heard at all and when they were, some were as flat as the omnipresent white sheets that hung behind them. I had to cut my toenails before they curled up anymore. When the whole company was on stage, similar nonsense was thrust on us, like liver hitting a butcher's board. Why is it, then when an amateur company is required to 'react' to a piece of action, suddenly the whole cast becomes an animated group of washer-women hanging out the laundry while gossiping over the fence?
Of the leading players, only Mark Randell in the eponymous role conjured any credibility. As a young man, the actor was a charming leading man. Here though, his performance is devoid of much charisma at all. He has a fine singing voice but his performance, like the show, lacked any direction. Playing the show mostly stage left, I got a crick in my neck trying to watch him. Furthermore, his scenes were almost all played out front, therefore lacking any communion with his scene partners. As for the rest, they tried, bless their hearts. Whereas radio mics were used, sometimes they only served to amplify a bum note of a performer, which were many.
So, who can we blame for this butcher's bin? Certainly director Deb Melton-Elves shows that she understands little in the way of staging. The crowded, shuffling company were without any blocking it seemed and were mostly left to gurn and grimace. Her liaison with her technicians was obviously limited and thus, the whole thing became a lesson in just how not to stage a musical.
The Criterion really needs to think if it should even consider large shows in the future. It may also look to improve the comfort of the theatre, which is dark, windowless and claustrophobic. It may look at air-conditioning the building, which was stiflingly hot and sticky. It may even consider not attempting such luminous work that is so well known and so very difficult even for professionals. Suffice it to say that although I commend the attempt, this Todd was like shaving with a very blunt razor.