Music and Lyrics by Frank Loesser

Book by Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows

Directed by Phee Simpson

Musical Direction by Emily Phillips

Tickets from £11.oo

It would seem as though 1950s New York is too tantalising a decade for Edinburgh University’s theatre scene: stepping into the same realm as last year’s Shakespeare Company’s production of Julius Ceasar, Phee Simpson’s ‘Guys and Dolls’ brings back the rustle and bustle, not to forget the all-too missed accents, albeit lacking the occasional gush of blood. Simpson’s evocation of a bustling cityscape, as achieved by the meticulously designed signs stretching far upstage, makes for a richly captivating atmosphere, which the actors deftly uphold, and in many cases, elevate. 

I must admit, at first, I couldn’t help but wonder at Edinburgh University Footlight’s attraction to the play; being so stuck in its time, the title alone sets up a binary which, along with the glamorisation of gambling, does more to distance the audience from the world of the play, as opposed to connecting us with it. And yet, through Simpson’s female-heavy ensemble, who bring out the irony of the more questionable numbers like Luck be A Lady or the block colour pop-art-esque aesthetic, you can’t help but be drawn to the production as it opens itself up to modernity.

Instrumental to this, are the nuanced performances of Megan Le Brocq and Nina Harman. The women carry this production, both exhibiting an ability to balance incredible vocal prowess with subtle, understated acting, culminating brilliantly in their duet, Marry the Man Today. Le Brocq’s Adelaide is particularly refreshing; avoiding caricature, she is self-assured, pointed, and trying to live on her own terms. Beni Barker’s Nathan Detroit follows suit in numbers like Sue Me, performed half-sheepishly, half-defensively. Perhaps if Barker had retained the softness he develops towards the end of the song throughout the production, the volatility of his relationship with Adelaide could be ironed into achieving a less belligerent, more playful effect.

Weaponising her femininity, Le Brocq nevertheless musters a certain coquettish quality without falling into ditsiness, as delivered to near professional standard in Adelaide’s Lament. Avidly edified by her entourage of Hot Box Dancers, performed to particular acclaim by Richeldis Brosnan and Minnie Cross, the decadent glitz and glamour of the 1950s hot box is achieved, as per Rosie Fletcher’s choreography. In choreographing sequences to songs like Adelaide’s Lament, Fletcher and Simpson make economical use of Pleasance’s abounding stage space to ensure there is never a tiresome, gaping moment. 

Harman’s Sarah is similarly demanding, putting up a stolid and stern defence against Sebastian Schneeberger’s charming Sky Masterson; seeming opposites, Harman lucidly constructs her dream man in I’ll Know, embodied with considerable mystery and magnetism by Tilda Glynn in another brilliant sequence choreographed by Fletcher. Although this veneer does slip during the drunken dance sequence in Cafe Cubano, Harman’s dealings with the barman, an interaction infused with comic irritability by Tom Steed, show her to be excitable, whilst somehow avoiding infantilisation. Schneeberger is similarly genuine in his portrayal of a doting, wistful Obadiah towards the second Act. It is in the intimate setting of Harman’s If I Were a Bell that the pair’s chemistry sparks and Sky’s identity crisis spills out; on a sappy Valentine’s evening, it is here, in the structural and emotional heart of the play, when flutters and whispers could be heard echoing across the audience saying “just kiss her already” or “tell her you love her”. Safe to say, emotions were running high, onstage and off.

It would be difficult to write a review of ‘Guys and Dolls’ without mentioning the Salvation Army. Affording the story with tongue-in-cheek relief, Orly Benn and Eleanor Flavin, standing as Sara’s head and heart, play off each other with ease. Flavin’s More I Cannot Wish You, though unfortunately cut short by a technological malfunction, nonetheless impressed. Their scenes inject the musical with a comedic earnestness, dopily interrupted, to great effect, by hot box-turned missionary, Lauren Green. Whether their standing as a Puritan foil to Nathan’s chaotic crap game players is ultimately pulled off, however, is debatable: the crap game scenes seem to lack the murkiness of the underground. In casting a petite Big Julie, the physical intimidation which usually armours the character, tending to be the most fear-inducing of the cast, is lost. Although Maria McStay’s performs the role with a commanding stage presence, in a scene where she takes out a gun and confronts one of the players, the irony of the situation leans too much into comedy. By underplaying furtiveness in exchange for this, the tension of the final prayer meeting is compromised. 

Nevertheless, this is overshadowed by the succinctness of the final number, Sit Down You’re Rocking the Boat. Tying everything together, the energy it unleashes is tangible to the audience, who, in many cases, can be seen to rock in their seats themselves: this is as much due to the ensemble as it is to the band, harmoniously directed by Emily Phillips and Amelia Brennan. In short, Footlight’s 2024 production is a delight. Performed with such enthusiasm by the cast, produced with great attention to detail by Kyri Anthollis and Olive Griffiths, and directed with meticulous precision by Simpson, it stands as a great example of student theatre doing exactly what it should be doing, to maximum effect.

---