“Good food. Good coffee. Great conversation.” Ah, yes, those unique interests that every man on every dating app ever somehow thinks will make him stand out in the Meet Market – as it’s winningly described in a punchy number in the new “big fancy musical” Why Am I So Single? at the Garrick.
The song occurs in the first act of this sweet, silly, deceptively smart and surprisingly moving show about two late-millennial besties, both scarred by the modern dating experience. It’s sung by a cast of identical chaps, laying out their wares in the digital dating department store, and on opening night, when ensemble member Jamel Matthias oozed those opening lines, a good chunk of the audience howled in recognition.
I admit that for the first few minutes I wanted to bolt. There’s a lot riding on this glittery production by Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss, the team behind the global hit Six, and as a cheesy voiceover announced it to be about two young musical theatre-makers, Nancy and Oliver (a running joke), writing their first big commission, with avatars of themselves in the leading roles, I thought: “Dear God, no.” By the end of the titular opening number, I was all in.
The writing is pin-sharp; stuffed with pop culture references, from Tracey Emin’s bed to LinkedIn, it pulls you up repeatedly with its intelligence and wit as Nancy (Leesa Tulley, exuding warmth) and Oliver (Jo Foster, hugely charismatic, with an astonishing voice), try to work out what’s wrong with them, fuelled by Sainsbury’s prosecco.
The magpie musical knowhow that underpinned Six is on display again, with a 90s rock banger, a big 80s musical number, a slinky nod to Marilyn Monroe/Madonna (sung by Oliver, a queer person, about only dating closeted men who won’t acknowledge him/them in public) and an incendiary disco track that is still in my head. Noah Thomas, who plays the pair’s pal Artie, nails a cathartic song called C U Never that might have ended a few situationships in the interval. Oh, and there’s one called Men Are Trash, which is very funny.
The whole thing is brilliantly marshalled by Moss, a talented director who evidently pays attention to every member of the inclusively cast, hard-working ensemble (they even play the household appliances in Oliver’s flat) and seamlessly integrates Moi Tran’s doors-and-neon set into the action. The message – that the love between friends is at least as nourishing as the romance we’ve been led to expect will come our way – infuses everything. A joy.
A different portrait of friendship emerges from Barney Norris’s new three-hander The Band Back Together. A trio who haven’t played together – or, mostly, seen each other – since their A-levels almost 20 years ago return to their village hall for a one-off gig. A novichok-poisoning benefit, it’s the idea of the rather lost drummer, Joe (a touchingly awkward James Westphal), the only one to have remained in their home town of Salisbury (Norris went to school there).
Ellie (Laura Evelyn, emanating a low-key charisma that explains the slowly revealed dynamics), has recently moved back from London with her partner and is trying for a baby; the laid-back, blokey Ross (Royce Cronin), who went through a period of being “a bit anti-vaxxy”, is a professional musician, but feels he’s sold out.
The awkwardness, as they navigate the waters of old familiarity after a torrent has clearly passed under the bridge, is palpable. The performances are effortless and Norris has a great ear for the kind of natural dialogue that is born out of long acquaintance. You can feel his affection for the characters: all have their flaws, but no one is fundamentally awful.
Everyone has lived broadly unexceptional lives; everyone has not always behaved as well as they should; everyone has been hurt, mostly through youthful carelessness, or simply nobody’s fault – shit has just happened. There’s no huge row; the revelations, when they come, are just very sad. It’s slight, but not everything has to be Tom Stoppard – and you get the feeling that even he, a music obsessive, would appreciate the rather good, excellently performed songs.
This is a funny, wistful elegy to lost youth, but more so to lost joy – a caution against that moment when you stop being able to take pleasure in your ordinary life; and, in that vulnerability, how devastatingly tempting nostalgia can be. At least, it says, music can, even briefly, bring us together.
Rachel O’Riordan’s new production of Our Country’s Good at the Lyric Hammersmith takes the view that all humanity can be redeemed by art. Timberlake Wertenbaker’s 1988 play explores the power of theatre as a humanising force – as well as sexual and class politics, with an undercurrent of colonialism.
In a 1780s New South Wales penal colony, a group of convicts have been given the task by their governor of staging George Farquhar’s comedy The Recruiting Officer, in the hope that it will encourage rehabilitation in preparation for their release – if any of them survive the next three months, as supplies dwindle.
Unfolding on Gary McCann’s raked set depicting the beautiful but harsh Australian landscape, backed by a huge, rusting union jack, Wertenbaker’s absorbing piece, based on real people from the first fleet, is written to be doubled (convicts/Royal Marines). In an amusingly meta moment, one character complains it will be confusing to the audience if the convicts must play more than one part (here solved by a simple swapping of various grubby jackets).
Simon Manyonda, as second lieutenant Ralph Clarke, who must direct the play, and Naarah, who makes brief appearances as the Indigenous commentator Killara, increasingly disturbed by the violent presence of these pale interlopers, are the only two who stick to one role. Clarke’s transformation from self-righteous, virtue-obsessed prig to open-minded champion of his troublesome company – and lover of his leading lady, petty thief Mary Brenham (Ruby Bentall) – is touching. So too is the shift in the antagonistic thief Liz Morden (Catrin Aaron), given confidence by her own growth to defend herself against injustice. In fact, all the women, when playing women, are nuanced and affecting.
The flaw here is the relationships between the officers and their women. In a deeply uncomfortable scene, the controlling jealousy displayed by midshipman Harry Brewer (Jack Bardoe), and his lover Duckling’s desperation to be free, are so unpleasantly convincing that when she later declares her love, it just doesn’t land. He’s an officer; Aliyah Odoffin’s Duckling is a convicted sex worker who lives with him in slim comfort compared with the horrible conditions of the women’s camp. He has all the power – ditto Clarke and Brenham. Their “love” stories ring repellently hollow, even though it feels as if we’re being asked to sympathise with both men.
In 2024, it’s madly jarring. The real Clarke abandoned both Brenham and their daughter (named after his wife back in England) when he returned to Britain. Yep, trash.
Star ratings (out of five)
Why Am I So Single? ★★★★
The Band Back Together ★★★
Our Country’s Good ★★★★
Why Am I So Single? is at the Garrick, London, until 13 February
The Band Back Together is at the Arcola, London, until 28 September
Our Country’s Good is at the Lyric Hammersmith, London, until 5 October
