Pete Townshend's Quadrophenia, A Mod Ballet: Review

To begin at the ending. The audience loved it.

Sadler’s Wells’ take on the 1979 film, based on The Who’s 1973 album, Quadrophenia, choreographed by Paul Roberts and directed by Rob Ashford, has a comfortable majority of us on our feet. By “us” I mean “them” (i.e. other members of the audience). For myself, I depart a veritable curate’s egg of a critic – thrilled in parts. Christopher Oram’s sets are compelling, Paul Smith’s costumes (assisted by Natalie Price) are stylish and evocative, Fabiana Piccioli’s lighting design is outstanding, and David McEwan’s sound design impeccable. And there are some captivating moments…kind of like gemstones thread upon a clumsily silver-plated chain.

Pete Townshend's Quadrophenia, A Mod Ballet Credit: Johan Persson — Pete Townshend’s Quadrophenia, A Mod Ballet Credit: Johan Persson

Set in the early 1960s, this is the story of Jimmy, a working class lad trapped in a tedious production line job, with not much to go home to but a lonely, disillusioned mother who smokes too much, and a desperately unhappy father who smokes too much and drinks too much (we find out why, later). But this is an era where teens have money and can follow their own paths to self-destruction. Young lads have a choice between Mods – natty suits, parkas and scooters – and Rockers – leathers, long, slicked-back hair and motorcycles.

Attracted to a Mod girl and the Ace Face Mod “leader”, Jimmy’s path is decided. One early complication is that his old friend has elected to join the Rockers. One of the highlights of the evening is a charming pas de deux between Jimmy and this friend, performed on and around a park bench. We sense it will all end in tears… but not until act two.

The production opens very powerfully – a menacing, crashing sea behind Jimmy, who stands alone on a rocky outcrop. Four snappily dressed young men rise up and join him. The five of them sway like waves, before breaking into some impressively athletic choreography. Director Ashford tells us these are, “four facets of [Jimmy’s] personality, the TOUGH GUY; the LUNATIC; the ROMANTIC; and the HYPOCRITE.” (‘Quadrophenia,’ geddit?).

It’s an impactful opening, promising more than what follows is able to deliver. Some scenes are punchy and exhilarating, others seem set to dance the hind legs off a donkey (low on novelty, high on labouring the point).

Musically, it’s a good show, when perhaps it could be great. Rachel Fuller (with Martin Batchelar) has generally made a fine job of orchestrating the music. Early routines (by the sea) lean productively on Vaughan Williams and Elgar, while some later ones (most notably the friends’ pas de deux) nod effectively to Bernstein and Copland. What is lacking is the dramatic boost that the original lyrics and Roger Daltrey’s vocals could provide. This is nowhere more acute than with an otherwise moving interpretation of “Love Reign O’er Me.” How a few lines of those words, a few bars of that voice might have lifted the finale to another level.

A scene depicting the trauma suffered by Jimmy’s Dad in World War Two (where the dancers move without musical accompaniment) is only a tweak or two from moving audiences to tears. YeastCulture.org have immense fun sending Jimmy out of his brain on the (“5.15”) train to Brighton with brilliant video effects.

The clash between Mods and Rockers on Brighton beach is insufficiently raw and chaotic. Even I wasn’t frightened.

In a neat contemporary twist, Jimmy fantasises about a threesome with Mod Girl and Ace Face (until Dad walks in on him humping his pillow). Note to parents: always knock first.

Fans of the film will fondly recall a closing scene in which Jimmy pushes Ace’s Vespa off a cliff. This is not tonight’s finale. In fact, there is only one, very brief, appearance of an actual scooter. I’m not sure what the decent-sized gang of enthusiasts in the crowd will have made of that. Mods without Vespas, Rockers without Triumphs. I leave you to ponder that.

As it is, no spoilers, but the ending kind of spoils itself (if you see it, you’ll see what I’m getting at).

Paris Fitzpatrick earns his ovation as a lithe and charming Jimmy. Amaris Gillies is striking as DRUGS. It’s not clear from the programme who danced MOD GIRL tonight, which is a shame. She was exceptional.

This take on Quadrophenia could lose 20 minutes (and gain a Vespa or two) and be the better for it.