SINGIN' IN THE RAIN

By Diana Simmonds

July 11 2016

SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN, Sydney Lyric Theatre, 9 July-11 September 2016, then Brisbane, Adelaide and Perth into January 2017. Photography Jeff Busby above (the company) and Lindsay Kearney (right) Grant Almirall.

This production of Singin’ In The Rain started out at Chichester Festival Theatre as one of its director Jonathan Church’s long line of productions that habitually transferred to the West End and sometimes Broadway and beyond. In this instance, the stage version of the greatest movie musical of all time has come to Australia, which is ironic after Church – then newly appointed to the Sydney Theatre Company – was unceremoniously and stupidly lost by STC (no matter what the media release said).

The musical, with a book by Betty Comden and Adolph Green, lyrics by Arthur Freed, and music by Nacio Herb Brown, actually reveals what we in Sydney have lost: a director who understands and thrives across subsidised, commercial, serious and popular theatre and whose companies have thrived too. What a pity. 

Singin’ In The Rain successfully walks the tightrope of remaining true to the (correct use of the word) iconic 1952 movie while also making it work as a theatrical experience. It’s neither a slavish copy nor does it shy away from what has made the original so adored and admired. 

Much of its charm lies in the story – dreamed up by the great duo Comden and Green to shoehorn a bunch of songs into one movie that Arthur Freed had written and used in many others. (And that, come to think of it, makes it the world’s first and best jukebox musical!)

And, of course, the story is endlessly appealing because it’s authentic. Comden and Green lived the world of early movies, so to write a sassy and realistic romance about the beginning of “the talkies” was a piece of cake; and the songs – all, bar one, from the 1930s – sound absolutely right.

Lest you’ve forgot: Don Lockwood and his buddy Cosmo Brown have successfully made the transition from vaudeville partnership to the back lot of Monumental Pictures. Debonair Don is the romantic leading man and Cosmo is the singing, dancing sidekick. Don’s on-screen love interest is the beautiful (and bitchy) Lina Lamont. She is the perfect silent screen star as she has a voice that would make a sulphur-crested cockatoo fall off its perch. And then along comes Warner Brothers’ The Jazz Singer.

In the reality of 1927 and onstage, The Jazz Singer – with Al Jolson warbling and talking from the screen – was at first dismissed as a gimmick and a flash in the pan. Then, as audiences flocked to the new phenomenon in their millions and cinemas raced to install sound equipment, studio bosses realised they had to get on board or go out of business.

Monumental’s RF Simpson takes the microphone by the horns and, mid-shoot, decrees that the latest Lockwood-Lamont flummery must become wired for sound. The disaster of Lina’s voice and her intransigent diva attitude is the source of much of the movie’s comedy and it’s the same on stage. Watching – in the studio as the film is being shot and then in snippets of scratchy B&W on screen – we get some of the most hilarious and faithful depictions of Hollywood ever devised.

Meanwhile, Don and Cosmo have discovered and befriended Kathy Selden, a gal from the ensemble with ambitions to be much more. Unlike Lina, she can sing and talk and dance pretty much simultaneously and after some classic and immortal song and dance sequences, she becomes Don’s real-life love interest and Lina’s on-screen vocals. And there’s an even happier ending to come.

Comfortably settled on the Lyric’s huge stage is the cavernous sound stage of Monumental Pictures as the backdrop for all the action. The orchestra is almost hidden above the Monumental gateway and beyond that, in the distance, are the hills and the old Hollywoodland sign – easily framing the big production numbers as well as the smaller moments (designer Simon Higlett and lighting design: Tim Mitchell).

Choreographer Andrew Wright has very smartly extracted the very best and most memorable elements from the original and refashioned them for the constraints of budget, eight shows a week and the stage. The same goes for musical director Adrian Kirk.

Then there’s the cast. Any performer coming in to Singin’ In The Rain has on their shoulder the indelible memory (and celluloid) presence of Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor, Debbie Reynolds and Jean Hagen. In Australia there’s the added burden of the unforgettable combo from 2001 of Todd McKenney, Rachael Beck, Wayne Scott Kermond and Jackie Love. No pressure. 

Most people know Adam Garcia/Don Lockwood badly injured a leg in Melbourne. (When you see some of the dance numbers – never mind the already famous rain sequence – you’ll wonder how more of the company isn’t on crutches.) The understudy was also injured, apparently and Sydney’s opening night was the big one for third choice Grant Almirall, and he was splendid. With Jack Chambers as the rubber-legged dance freak Cosmo Brown and Gretel Scarlett as song- and dance-bird Kathy Selden, the trio is well matched and – at least from Row W in the stalls – are excellent substitutes for the originals.

As fingernails-down-a-blackboard temptress Lina Lamont, Erika Heynatz has a huge mountain to climb in articulating most of the show’s sharpest, fastest and funniest lines while torturing her vocal cords half to death. She’s good and she looks marvellous, but she’s no Jackie Love, and to hear people whispering “what was that?” and “what did she say?” after some of the best punch lines suggests either some diction exercises or a bit of tinkering with the sound level to clarify the delivery. Or maybe it’s the curse of Row W, but whatever: you really need to hear every word, even as your ears are bleeding.

One way or another, this cast in this show are more of an ensemble than anything else, and it’s a fabulous ensemble. The demands on the singer-dancer-actors are extreme and once again, the depth of talent in Australia is shown to be eye-opening. 

Special mention to two firsts-among-equals: Nadia Coote’s spectacular solo as the sultry, black-clad “Broadway Ballet Girl” is memorable and, Lyndon Watts is a lyric tenor, kitted out in sparkling Naval whites and handsomeness, whose glorious rendition of “Beautiful Girls” is another highlight.

And then there are the songs and accompanying dance routines. Who could fail to love such gems as Good Mornin’, Make ’Em Laugh, Moses Supposes, All I Do Is Dream Of You, You Were Meant For Me, Fit As A Fiddle, Would You?, You Are My Lucky Star and, of course, Singin’ In The Rain? What’s not to love? And even though there’s an awful lot of rain (you get a plastic poncho if you’re in the front rows) it’s a terrific antidote to the blues and Sydney’s soggy winter. Thanks Jonathan, sorry you couldn’t stick around here longer.