Directed by Sam Hardie

Musical Direction by Richard Reeday

Review by Dominic Corr

Tickets from £15.00

Walking around the gateway to the Highlands, and arriving at the now fully-kitted out Pitlochry Festival Theatre (with some smashing new bathrooms and reference to previous productions), the Pink Lady Jacket sporting guests mingled with the eager faces for the theatre’s first big musical of the season all conjures this ‘safeness’ and needed nostalgia right now – something director Sam Hardie grasps instantly. The retro-charm, with more than a wink and a smile at its time-setting, delivers on the feel-good factors and familiarity of the high-school drama musical Grease in a way which is expected, and precisely what audiences would want.

From the moment the venue’s calling card of actor-musicians strikes up, a double saxophone kicks off the opening number, and the energy is infectious. Now a Pitlochry hallmark— the live musical elements bring a live-wire quality to the performance, which offers a much-needed difference to the production. The ensemble’s musicality is impressive, with instruments seamlessly integrated into the action, giving the show a vibrant, almost street-band feel, ready to take off and walk right out of the theatre.

There are few more sought-after leading duets than Grease’s Sandy and Danny. And the crowd eagerly anticipates where the Pitlochry and Blackpool Grand co-production is heading. A frequent performer at the venue, Blythe Jandoo makes a sincere and charismatic Sandy, balancing sweetness with a surprising edge, one which could have been stitched more profoundly into the production to sell Sandy’s turnaround more clearly and authentically. Her rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted to You” is a standout—tender, heartfelt, and vocally rich – and showcases why Jandoo is a trusted name for the venue. Opposite her, hair slicked back, Alexander Service’s Danny captures the awkward bravado of a teenager trying to be cool. While they occasionally strain in the higher notes of “You’re the One That I Want” his performance of “Sandy” is full of teenage angst and sincerity, and more than cements their position in the role.

Similarly to the Pitlochry aesthetic, Nick Trueman’s set design is minimalistic, though effective, using cardboard boxes and diner stools to evoke 1950s Americana with a DIY flair. It’s not flashy, but it works—turning simplicity into a virtue and reinforcing this nostalgic sincerity the show strives for. The costumes echo this principle: retro, accessible, and just the right side of kitsch (if anything, we could do with bigger hair on some of the ensemble). There’s the sense that the whole production could be recreated in a school or grassroots organisation, and that’s part of Grease’s appeal; accessibility.

That, and Hardie’s embracing of the show’s self-awareness. Singing its heart out, knowing full well that none of the cast are in the right age bracket for the parts, but the cast leans into the absurdity of adults playing teenagers, but does so with such charm and commitment that it becomes part of the fun and silliness of it all. The T-Birds’ exaggerated swagger (Tyler Collins almost cartoon-like in movements) and the Pink Ladies’ knowing glances to the audience create a playful rapport that keeps things light and engaging, Fiona Wood’s Rizzo’s eyes nearly rolling into the back of their head frequently.

On that front, the supporting cast is strong. Wood’s Rizzo is a revelation—less femme fatale, more vulnerable rebel. Her “There Are Worse Things I Could Do” is delivered with an emotional depth that lingers with staying power, more so than most principals. Matched by Collin’s likeable goofiness, and April Nerissa Hudson’s Frenchy is delightfully ditzy, especially during the dreamlike “Beauty School Dropout” sequence, which nearly steals the show with its whimsical choreography and fantastical costumes. It’s all tied together with a fully sold flounce of pomp and giddiness in Keith Macpherson’s Vince Fontaine, and the reliable hands of Alyson Orr’s Miss Lynch.

The show’s biggest drawback is in one of its strengths: how safe it plays things. There was room for a bit more of a daring reinterpretation or sharper choreography. But what it lacks in innovation, it makes up for in heart. But credit due, this is a Grease that knows exactly what it is: a nostalgic romp through jukebox hits and teenage dreams, performed with gusto and affection.

Humming home through the Highlands, the Lowlands, or overseas for some, the audience is clapping along, swept up in the joy of it all and a communal sense of appreciation for simpler moments. It may not be the slickest Grease you’ll ever see, but it’s certainly one of the most winsome.

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