BAT OUT OF HELL, EDINBURGH PLAYHOUSE
★★
If it’s not broken, don’t fix it
The last time Bat Out Of Hell roared into Edinburgh, the ‘award-winning hit musical’ with book, music and lyrics by the late Jim Steinman was rightly hailed a ‘five star’ spectacular. Three years later, despite boasting many of the same principals, the new concert production, opening its UK tour this week at the Edinburgh Playhouse, is almost unrecognisable – if two out of three ain’t bad, just two stars out of five only highlights the challenges that remain for the show’s producers.
This reimagined production may be all revved up but with poor storytelling and chaotic staging, it’s definitely not quite ready go, yet. Luckily, with impressive vocals all ’round from a cast who work their socks off to salvage all they can from the high-energy pandemonium that unfolds, all is not lost.
Talking of lost, if you’ve never seen Bat Out Of Hell, the musical is a post apocalyptic Peter Pan with a hint of Romeo and Juliet thrown in for good measure. It’s the story of Strat, leader of The Lost, a group of disenfranchised youth surviving in the underworld of a near-future Manhattan, now called Obsidian. It’s a place ruled by tyrannical dictator Falco, and when Strat falls in love with Raven, his daughter, their worlds collide and, as with all the best tales of forbidden love, tragedy awaits.
So, with a strong cast and tried and tested narrative, where do the problems lie? For two hours, an unfulfilled concept, some bizarre creative choices and laissez-faire direction come together to create the perfect storm in which the actors find themselves endeavouring to deliver a show based on the recent Australian arena tour; even with a capacity of 3,000+ seats, The Playhouse, by far the largest venue of the tour, can by no means be described as an arena. Consequently, despite a set stripped back from previous productions, including a culvert into the world of The Lost that has been shrunk, as has Raven’s bedroom, the remaining playing area is cramped and overcrowded.
In fact, the new staging ensures the cast are hampered at every turn. Hand held mics may work in a concert but do nothing for stagecraft, nor does the presence of a cameraman who constantly blocks sight-lines as he delivers a live show feed to the two giant digital screens that now dominate the stage. That feed demands the actors frequently perform upstage with their backs to the audience to get the shot. It feels like a cheat. However, while the choreography, hopefully intentionally parodying that of Eighties’ MTV music videos, may be clunky, it’s the unfocussed direction that creates the biggest fail; ensemble scenes are messy, the narrative often incoherent and disjointed.
As for the cast, Glenn Adamson’s live-wire Strat remains a posturing, tongue-flicking, Kafka-esque creation that works well with Katie Tonkinson’s rebellious Raven. In the role, she provides the highlight of the evening at the top of Act II, an intensely emotional delivery of Heaven Can Wait. With an eight piece band led by musical director Iestyn Griffiths, who also elicits strong harmonies from the ensemble, the title track, when it comes is another highlight but while the deliver is top notch, it finds the ever frenetic Adamson and Tonkinson stalking each other as they take their turns on the mic – sometimes stillness carries more power, movement for movement’s sake is always forced and awkward, and so it is here.
Reprising their roles as Falco and Sloane, real life couple Rob Fowler and Sharon Sexton offer more powerhouse vocals and bring an element of comedy to proceedings. Other performers worth mentioning are Ryan Carter, an engaging Jagwire, and Carla Bertran, a feisty and fearless Tink.
By the time It’s All Coming Back To Me Now heralds the run up to the obligatory singalong finale, the audience are screaming their applause. Likewise, I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That), another well-appreciated favourite, receives the reaction that once greeted every number in previous productions. If only the producers had remembered one simple rule, if it’s not broken, don’t fix it
Runs until 11 January at Edinburgh Playhouse. Tickets here.
Full tour details and tickets here.
Katie/Raven doesn’t do ‘Two Out Of Three’ – it’s Jag and Zahara – and it’s in Act I not II.
Thank you, it was, of course, Heaven Can Wait, not Two Out of Three. Senior moment there. Thanks for picking it up.
Agree Liam, and glad to see it’s not just me who feels this way.
New to the show though not the music, and just saw a matinee at a provincial theatre. While one can’t blame the performers for the tiny space, tour limitations or the time of day, as a show it still felt so rushed, cramped and thin of plot & character to me. My non-fan sister came with me, and turned to me at interval completely confused: “what’s going on? Or…is *anything* going on?”
We both expected more and different. Knowing Steinman’s ouevre as I do, personally I felt disappointed at how toothless BOOH seems now, lacking all political or counter-cultural bite, and reducing all the sexual content to camp or suggestion. Perhaps the records are just too old and canonical now, though, and its not the fault of the show…
To name just one more particular technical issue: the ensemble had a dozen intriguing-looking and acting characters with crazy names, whom the audience is expected to know and root for, yet they were never introduced or given dialogue. And even the secondary characters such as Zahara & Jagwire were given no backstory or valuable exposition, unless we count the vague song lyrics of their two duets, which ended up having no plot relevance anyway. Presumably Steinman’s now-ancient proto scripts for Dream Engine and Baal had actual purposes & backgrounds for at least a few of these people? And yes, they all felt like sardines on the stage, absolutely no room for them to move, play, improv, or do much of anything except the Backstreet Boys/Kpop choreo (that needs changing or scrapping, it’s not metal…)
(Like you, I prefer Jagwire to Strat as a lead romantic/heroic role, and wanted to know more about him—at least with the Jag singer/actor I just saw, who curiously didn’t look either like the main cast Ryan Carter nor the understudy Craig Watson? Wish I knew who this man is, he’s so so good, with a vocal heft & vulnerability for Meat songs that many of this current cast despite their skill & experience lack. I even prefer his voice to the one on the cast album. He also had a charisma, stage presence and body that commanded more attention than the weedy, nasal, wet-cat actor for Strat…just a personal preference, though!)
Returning to the point, ofc I do understand that jukebox musicals are by their nature constructed around pre-existing songs, and so in moving songs from record to stage they are hamstrung or repurposed in certain deleterious ways from the outset. I also understand that touring productions often have to shrink or shorten to fit their budgets, playhouses & tourbuses. It’s pure logistics one has to accept.
There’s also the fact that Steinman songs are very long and hard by the standards of musical theatre and commercial rock-pop, and there’s 20 or more of them in the original interaction of the show, which is an exhausting sing to say the least. Five songs were cut from the show I just watched, to make it viable to stage. Even so, I can’t believe how much energy the cast & the pit give it every night for months, considering.
Still, considering Steinman himself actually worked on the debut 2017 run and signed off on it himself before his death, I’m surprised that it’s turned out this aneamically after less than a decade on its feet, or that anyone was allowed to truncate and drain it of so much life that makes it a Steinman production in the first place.
Ultimately I left the theatre humming the music, ears happily ringing, impressed with the band than anything else, yet craving much more of a story and a production to chew on too—one ideally based on Steinman’s original 1960s-70s vision—rather than the awkwardly-blocked and paced karaoke/LARP Rock Of Ages type concert we got. The book changes, casting and the direction just let it all down, so it ended up being a bit naff like a tribute act or a revue. When it could be—and from what you say here, was once—so much more.