Last night, Stuart and I went to see the UK debut of Stephen Sondheim's final musical, 'Here We Are' at the National Theatre on London’s glitzy Southbank.
Meh. Stuart left at the interval. I ploughed on through.
It started off ok. The usual Sondheim plotting; a company of characters - played here excellently by Tracie Bennett, Jack Butterworth, Chumisa Dornford-May, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Richard Fleeshman, Harry Hadden-Paton, Cameron Johnson, Jane Krakowski, Denis O’Hare, Martha Plimpton, Paulo Scot, and Rory Kinear - find themselves in an unusual situation and speak/sing about it in an amusing fashion.
In this case, the musical is inspired by two of Luis Buñuel's films, the Discrete Charm of the Bourgeoisie and The Avenging Angel. Both of these films are about poshos eating. The first film is about them trying to have a meal out but failing as there is no food, and the second film is about posh people trying to leave a room after a meal but again failing.
Indeed, when the musical tries to blend in some of the surrealism from those films with Sondheim's signature style it just looks stupid. Posh people behaving badly can be funny - but add high-heeled shoe obsessed bishop, a gun, a water shortage, a war, a dodgy piano, a death or two, and even a dancing bear and we are on thin ice. I had to check the program to see if the kitchen sink had a walk-on part.
The pacing felt uneven, with certain sections dragging unnecessarily. Complete plot lines and character developments went absolutely nowhere. It was frustratingly average. Even for Sondheim.
And the main reason why people come to a musical is to hear people sing, right? What songs we got in Act I were perfectly pleasant, but as far as I can tell there was no singing in Act II at all.
Shame really.
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