Critics and Singalongs

Last night was the first performance of the new show Dreamboats and Petticoats. It was a preview show, so whilst there was a full house, a large portion of the audience seemed to be carrying notebooks and scribbling furiously. Some were media, no doubt, there to review, but others were there because they were producers, directors, choreographers, all closely linked to the production. It was interesting to watch how uncomfortable one of the behind the scenes movers and shakers became when he was not only recognised, but asked to sign a program (I'm still not certain of exactly who he was - there were no head shots of backstage people in the program, I suspect for precisely this reason).

The show itself was jammed with the sort of nostalgia that will reel in the baby-boomers. There seems to have been a glut of these in London recently, with the likes of Jersey Boys, Shout, and Grease opening within the past couple of years. There is clearly a strong market still, in spite of financial woes. Perhaps they're all harking back to a time when, as one of the stars of the show observes, people looked up to bankers. By the beginning of the second act, the enthusiastic performers, who are so young that even their parents would barely remember the 1961 setting of the story, had created something of a stir in the audience. It started as a sigh about halfway through the first act. A hint of humming could be heard. It was like feedback in the early stages of the second act, and by the end, the performers could have played rock stars and held the microphones over the audience for singalong practice, without needing to open their own mouths for the lyrics to be heard clearly. The all-singing-all-dancing finale had everybody, even the most staid and prosaic of reviewers out of their seats.

Along the way, it wasn't just the music that got everything going, though. There were moments of genuine humour. Some of it was, admittedly, the trite sort of thing you'd expect from such shows - with characters named Donna, Sue, Laura and Bobby, there's serious musical fodder, although a teenage boy taunting his sister by singing Bobby's Girl in a high falsetto rang fairly true. But there were other moments which had everyone laughing openly. When a teenage boy, about to be found with a girl in his room, shoves her out the window only to hear her crash to the ground below, it seemed not only appropriate, but hilairious that he would turn to the audience and launch into a song, earning the biggest laugh of the night, other than the banker line.
So, what do I think the verdict of the critics will be, if I am to offer a prediction? I think it will probably be caned, to be honest. Sure, it was fun, it was boppy, it captured a moment in time perfectly, it was entertaining and some of the young actors had superb singing voices. But it also appeals to the lowest common denominator. In short, it's the type of show I love. Something that entertains without making you think. The sort of show that is needed when you're a bit down. But, like romantic comedies and smash-'em-up movies, never the sort of thing that the serious-minded theatre critic would admit to enjoying. But I know better. I saw them dancing in the aisles along with everyone else.