Steve TimmsIn a cine literate world, critics happily acknowledge the combined effort that goes into film production, from the contributions of the director, writer, and set designer, right down to the grips, stunt men and dolly operator. Even caterer Madge, who hands out bacon butties at lunchtime, gets a mention somewhere. What of casting directors? They remain cinema’s unsung heroes. Casting directors usually see hundreds of performers before deciding upon who is right for which role. It’s the chemistry between co-stars which flips a film into the category of a classic.
There are hundreds of examples of this ‘lightning in a bottle’ magic but let’s focus on one – Young Frankenstein, arguably the apex of Mel Brooks’ rollercoaster career. Not everyone possesses comic timing in the way that Gene Wilder, Madelaine Khan, Cloris Leachman, Peter Boyle, Marty Feldman, Teri Garr, and Kenneth Mars did (plus the unexpected bonus of Gene Hackman as blind beggar Harold, easily the greatest cameo of all time).
Brooks had already enjoyed huge success with his 2001 stage version of The Producers, surprising everyone with his ability to write an entire score of smart new songs (his composition chops only intermittently demonstrated in his films). It was inevitable that Brooks – still going strong at age 99 – would want another bite of this particular cherry. Young Frankenstein is an obvious fit; a parody but also a tale familiar to everyone. First staged in 2007, Young Frankenstein the Musical has been somewhat overshadowed by The Producers (and initially received some sniffy reviews). But on the basis of this fizzy revival from director and choreographer Nick Winston – a regional premiere – it seems like the monster is ready for a new incarnation.
Grandson of the infamous Victor Frankenstein, Frederick Frankenstein (pronounced ‘Fronk-en-steen’) inherits his family’s estate in Transylvania. With the help of hunchback sidekick Igor (pronounced ‘Eye-Gore’), and vivacious, touchy-feely lab assistant Inga, Frederick finds himself inexplicably drawn to the mad scientist shoes of his ancestors. ‘It’s alive!’ shouts a triumphant Frederick, as he brings to life a six foot corpse, implanted with the brain of a genius. Or so he had hoped. Did Igor steal the correct one? Possibly not, because this second brain belonged to someone called ‘Abby Normal.’ With all the strange noises going on at the castle, it’s no surprise that the locals – led by one armed Inspector Kemp (Simeon Truby), a survivor of Grand daddy Victor’s previous undead creation – are getting ready to break out the torches and pitchforks.
Naturally, the first person to praise in this production is casting director Jim Arnold, who has assembled a fantastic array of talent, all of whom have brought their A game. I’m only familiar with Ore Oduba from his TV presenting work, and had no idea he was a triple threat, with a parallel career in musical theatre. He’s an impressive singer and dancer, aided by laser focused timing. His arch performance as Frederick teems with detail, as if he’s channeling decades of black and white B movie acting, and pouring it out onto the stage. Party girl Elizabeth Benning calls herself Frederick’s fiancé; as played by Rhiannon Chesterman, this waspish vamp is clearly a woman who enjoys mind games, evidenced by the show stopping number ‘Please Don’t Touch Me’ (‘’When we’re absolutely wed/You can do it till we’re dead.’)
Relative newcomer Curtis Patrick is hilarious as Igor, a bundle of gurning tics and slapstick goofing. Julie Yammanee has an impressive list of musical theatre credits for someone so young, and is thoroughly charming as winsome coquette Inga. Some might remember Jessica Martin from her stint as the sole female impressionist on TV show Copy Cats; as oddball housekeeper Frau Blucher, she’s expertly deadpan (there’s a recurring, off stage horse ninny whenever Blucher’s name is mentioned).
What of the monster? On paper, it appears a thankless character because there’s little dialogue, mostly a succession of grunts, growls and screams. It requires a good sport to be the butt of the joke, which reaches some sort of apotheosis in the famous ‘Putting on the Ritz’ number. Peter Gallagher is excellent in the role, a sliver of pathos quietly keening at the edge of his tremulous voice. After a final, brain reversal operation with Frederick, the monster gets to deliver the heartfelt number, Deep Love, a duet with Elizabeth, which is so sincere it feels like it’s from another show entirely.
Director/choreographer Nick Winston has an innate understanding of the material. The choreography is simple but exuberant, with moves sharper than a mad chieftain’s scimitar. In terms of tone, a good frame of reference would be Little Shop of Horrors. If you enjoyed that zany affair, you’ll love this. Young Frankenstein the Musical is a considerable triumph; it’s rare to see something so slick in such an intimate venue.
Mel Brooks is probably unable to attend but clearly would enjoy every second. They’ve done him proud.
Dave Porter
Carmel Thomason
Excellent review which was very befitting to this show. Could easily see this again.