Review: Allegro: The Cher Show – Church Hill Theatre, Edinburgh

Two female performers singing passionately on stage, holding hands, wearing sequined outfits, with dramatic lighting in the background.

Book by Rick Elice

Directed by Neil Lavin

Musical Direction by Louisa Everett

Choreographed by Laura Green

Review by Dominic Corr

Rating: 4 out of 5.

They’re back, and taking on the biggest diva in history. And no, it ain’t Miss Piggy. One of Edinburgh’s best grassroots groups: Allegro’s take on The Cher Show is a riot of sequins, swagger and sincere affection for one of pop’s most defiantly singular stars. In the intimate Church Hill Theatre, director Neil Lavin shapes a production that balances crowd-pleasing spectacle with moments of real emotional clarity, resulting in an evening that feels both celebratory and thoughtfully staged. This production captures legend, icon, and one of the music industries titans – Cher’s showmanship and vulnerability in roughly equal measure, delivering an evening that is as much a party for fans as it is a study in resilience and reinvention.

A whistlestop tour of Cher’s life; from their origins as Cheryl Sarkisian, to the doe-eyed Sonny and Cher star, to the bad-ass bitch of autotune – the production flows through various stages of the stars life, utilising three iconic stages as guides, represented by three central performances; Star, Lady, and Babe, this evening performed by Allegro superstar Cathy Geddie, Zoe Murray and Emma Clarkson.

At the heart of the piece is this trio of portrayals that collectively chart Cher’s shifting public self. Clarkson as Babe brings a fresh-eyed vulnerability, capturing the adolescent uncertainty that precedes stardom. Murray inhabits Lady with assured comic timing and surprising emotional weight, negotiating the messy terrain of fame and marriage with authenticity. While Geddie as Star provides the production’s gravitational centre, her authoritative contralto and wry stage presence guide the storytelling and deliver the show’s biggest anthems with convincing power.

Leading by way of example, Geddie gives a magnetic performance that anchors the piece. Vocally ambitious choices sometimes stretch the lower dynamics, but when the show leans into spectacle, the voice finds its fiercest colours and the crowd responds accordingly. Emotional clarity is never sacrificed for bravura. Scenes that require intimacy are handled with surprising restraint, making the bigger moments land with genuine emotional charge rather than empty flash.

The ensemble work is energetic and entirely game. A buoyant Joe Purcell offers a playful Sonny Bono that punctures dramatic moments with necessary lightness, while Eilidh Todd supplies a warm, grounded Georgia Holt whose few scenes add essential familial texture. Vocal peaks are thrilling and the band, under musical direction from Louisa Everett, supplies a punchy, concert-style backbone that suits the jukebox format. Occasional balance issues from the sound desk blur lyrics during the loudest numbers, and a touch more clarity in the mix would sharpen several narrative beats.

Costumes are the evening’s unambiguous delight. Reimagined by Kate Dixon, the wardrobe is a continuous parade of eras and attitudes, from Sonny and Cher’s bell-bottom innocence to the sleek, pared-back glamour of later decades. Quick changes are handled with impressive fluency and become a source of genuine theatrical thrill. Hair and makeup complete the metamorphoses, turning the stage into a rotating gallery of Cher moments. It does well to stand up to choreography by Laura Green which is spirited and versatile, capturing Arlene Phillip’s initial touring, but giving it that Allegro flair. The ensemble executes routines that blend seventies swagger with disco flair and contemporary punch, finding theatricality within the Church Hill’s compact playing area. Scenic and projection work offers clever visual punctuation, though the ambitious live camera relay occasionally missteps in timing, briefly interrupting the flow. Lighting choices are bold and effective, using colour and contrast to mark shifts in era and mood without ever overcomplicating the stage picture.

Lavin’s directorial approach privileges momentum and audience engagement. That decisiveness pays off across sequences that rely on spectacle and immediacy, eliciting several standing moments from the crowd. The production occasionally sacrifices quieter, more interior beats in favour of maintaining pace, which makes some emotional transitions feel lightly sketched rather than fully mined. The book itself, inherently episodic, amplifies that effect; tightening a few connective scenes in the centre of the second act would allow the character arcs to breathe and deepen.

Musical pacing otherwise serves the show well. Hit after hit lands with theatre-savvy bravado, and the company reads the room precisely, responding to lifts and lulls with calibrated energy. Comic rhythms are mostly sure-footed and the production avoids caricature, preferring celebration over parody. A slightly more measured second-act arc would heighten the emotional payoff of the finale

The production’s chief strength is its wholeheartedness. Costumes, choreography and committed leads combine to create an evening of unabashed entertainment that nonetheless acknowledges vulnerability. Everett’s musical direction ensures the sound is propulsive and joyful. Technical rough edges, primarily in sound balance and a few projection transitions, occasionally diminish the narrative clarity. The episodic nature of the script can leave small emotional hooks underdeveloped, but the company’s resourceful staging and energy frequently compensate.

Allegro’s The Cher Show is a luminous, crowd-pleasing celebration that delivers big voices, iconic looks and a palpable sense of theatrical devotion. With strong central performances from and confident creative leadership, the production rightly soars and challenges Allegro’s most talented and comfortable. Minor technical slips and the book’s schematic tendencies stop it short of perfection, but they do little to blunt the evening’s charm and bring a Saturday night concert to a Tuesday evening. For anyone seeking a night of bejewelled escapism and honest homage to a pop icon, this production delivers with verve and warmth: you best Believe this is one hot show, bitches.


Editor for Corr Blimey, and a freelance critic for Scottish publications, Dominic has been writing freelance for several established and respected publications such as BBC Radio Scotland, The List, The Scotsman, Edinburgh Festival Magazine, The Reviews Hub, In Their Own League, The Wee Review and Edinburgh Guide. As of 2023, he is a member of the Critics’ Awards for Theatre Scotland (CATS) and a member of the UK Film Critics.

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