Steve TimmsThe Smiths remain one of Manchester’s most beloved bands. The musical alliance between Morrissey and Marr gifted the world a catalogue of melodic pop songs with lyrics which spoke to those on the margins of life: the lonely, depressed and heartbroken. The band’s iconic image was cemented by their innovative use of packaging: every record sleeve featured a carefully chosen ‘cover star’: people like Terence Stamp, Richard Bradford, Truman Capote, Shelagh Delaney and Pat Phoenix to name a few. The name Viv Nicholson won’t be instantly recognisable to the younger generation, but mention the fact she featured on the cover of ‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now’, and no doubt there will be a flicker of music culture recognition.
In 1961, Yorkshire born Nicholson – a teenage bride, living in a working class terrace in Castleford with her first child, and already on her second marriage – won an astronomical sum of money on the football pools, the nation’s bizarre weekly gambling habit where cash hungry punters attempted to correctly predict which Saturday matches would emerge as draws. Nicholson won £152,319; today, it’s the equivalent of over £4 million.
The story was first dramatised by Jack Rosenthal in 1977, and broadcast as a Play for Today on BBC1. The genesis of this musical adaptation – a collaboration between composer Steve Brown, and Lyricist Justin Greene – goes back to the mid 90’s. Initially, the pair wrote it out of love, only approaching theatres after a year of work. Demo tapes were sent out (Steve Coogan, a regular Brown collaborator, lent his talents to one song). Spend Spend Spend finally fell into the hands of Jude Kelly, then head of the West Yorkshire Playhouse. A hit in Leeds, Spend Spend Spend made it to the West End in 1999.
A sobering rags-to-riches-and-back-again saga, it’s a tale freighted with contemporary resonance. Nicholson was probably the first British reality star, her legend sealed when she famously told the press her intentions: ‘I’m going to spend, spend, spend!’ This Royal Exchange production begins with a gaggle of paparazzi popping bulbs in slow motion, followed by a clever special effect: a giant cheque, bursting into flames. Addicted to excess and seduced by materialism, Viv slowly and painfully learns that money doesn’t buy happiness but does bring a ton of problems.
Everyone here is working at the top of their game. Some scenes could be used as lecture blueprints for aspiring theatre directors. Act 1ends with the ear worm title number, presented as an adrenaline rush of glittery pop art design (care of Grace Smart), and needle sharp choreography (from Lucy Hind). Director Josh Seymour adds so many visual flourishes, it would take a second viewing to notice everything. The ‘Garforth’ section is particularly strong. This is the village Viv and husband Keith moved to after their win, though they were hardly welcomed by their toffee nosed neighbours: Seymour turns the number into a smart, Stepford Wives satire, with the chorus dressed in matching pastel casual wear.
Rose Galbraith plays Young Viv with a sort of exuberant naivety, always on the move to stay ahead of doom’s looming shadow. Rachel Leskovac played that part in the original production, and now returns to play Older Viv. Having two Vivs initially feels like a cheap gimmick but this device ultimately serves to heighten the drama as Older Viv is forced to revisit the wreckage of her life, helplessly looking on like a woman being shepherded to the gallows. There isn’t space to mention everyone in the large cast but Alex James-Hatton (as Keith Nicholson), and Alfie Parker, in a variety of supporting roles, are both impressive. Respect also to Joe Alessi for his amusing turn as the one and only Bruce Forsyth (who famously presented Viv with her cheque).
Where did all the money go? Psychiatrists now have a term for Nicholson’s condition – Sudden Wealth Syndrome. Or a simple curse, if you prefer. Parties, clothes, fancy cars, horse racing, foreign holidays, and trust funds for her kids explain some of her relentless splurging. The tax man comes knocking in Act 2, and there’s a protracted court case which ties the estate up for six bewildering years.
Money pales into insignificance however, when tragedy strikes (to say more would spoil the experience). Given she was also a survivor of domestic violence, it’s fair to say Nicholson was an undiagnosed trauma case, desperately looking for something – booze, fags, shopping, husbands – to take the edge off her sadness. ‘The Scar of Love’ is the musical jewel here, a song so gut wrenchingly vulnerable, it takes you by surprise, and knocks you sideways. ‘Scar’ reappears as a musical motif at various points, and during the moving finale. Older Viv gets the killer final line, which completely upends everything we’ve witnessed.
‘Heriath’ is a Celtic word which roughly translates as ‘a profound longing for something irretrievably lost.’ Spend Spend Spend is quietly devastating in that respect, acknowledging a pain many people experience in life but are unable to express; grief for opportunities forever missed. Viv Nicholson knew she would have been so much happier if she’d never filled in that damned coupon.
Composer Steve Brown sadly died earlier this year, and this production is dedicated to his memory.
Spend Spend Spend is an unmissable triumph.
Carmel Thomason
Martin Thomasson
Dave Porter