Story, Script and Lyrics by Alan Cumming, Forbes Masson and Johnny McKnight

Music by Forbes Masson, additional music by Alan Cumming

Directed by Andrew Panton

Review by Dominic Corr

The Dundee Rep

Roll up that sleeve, find a vein, and get ready for a shot of nostalgia strong enough to bring back memories of Super Gran, Stookie, Wham (the bars), and an Edinburgh North Bridge devoid of roadworks.

Following a thirty-year layover, Alan Cumming, Forbes Masson, Siobhan Redmond and Patrick Ryecart don their lapels once more to take the skies with The High Life, now in musical form and a fresh lick of paint from The National Theatre of Scotland. Premiering at The Dundee Rep ahead of a brief tour, with a return leg of the journey to land safety back by the Tay at the Rep. Picking up (somewhat) from where we left off, Sebastian (Cumming), Steve (Masson), Shona (Remond), and Dear ol’ Capt. Hilary Duff (Ryecart) is still, somehow, flying on Scotland’s only premier airline – when the biggest fear to any commercial airline comes in: a takeover, and a rebrand.

The fourth wall has well and truly been mounted, as Cumming and Masson play right into the eager audience’s sweaty and hungry palms in the way only those of showbiz royalty can manage. It never feels forced; it is always welcome, and any flub or misstep is met with poise, correction, and we’re right back on track. The pair’s camaraderie is well-known, making for a production that grows from the initial burst of the pair’s return to a celebration of legacy and new, well-known, and those to come. Watching Cumminggo toe-to-toe with the likes of superb talents in Kyle Gardiner and Rachel Kendall Brown serves as a reminder that we’re still flying high for Scottish Theatre’s future.

Embodying the returning part as if they’d never left, Masson commands comedy and heartfelt expression with earnestness, while Cumming lavishes in playing up their (various) alternative employment opportunities with relish. But it’s with heels and a wit sharp enough to take yer knackers off at ten paces; while the boys may be the lead cabin crew – this is Siobhan Redmond’s flight, give poise, venom, and a smidgen of sincerity to Shona Spurtle.

Decked out; lit to near realms of Vegas standards by Grant Anderson, there are colours on display that I bet you didn’t even know existed in The High Life’s staging: crafted principally by Colin Richmond. It’s one step to the side of Panto, but just before Am-Dram with a middle-class budget: delightfully perfect and effective; with the second act bringing a lot more in the way of weight and physical comedy opportunities. Luckily, it’s a strikingly effective set for Emily Jane Boyle’s choreography, which finds a place amidst the songs from Masson, Cumming, and writer Johnny McKnight – offering a much grander sense of musicality to proceedings.

From ballads, ensemble belters, and a finale that you won’t see coming, the musicality of it all owes its air to Sarah de Tute’s musical direction and lead on the keys, with a live band playing throughout, upstage both on show and sometimes concealed. And who else, but Louise McCarthy, our resident champion of Scottish comedy and entertainment, long overdue for their more dramatic, dare we say serious, time in the contemporary spotlight, is back to get the gams out and show us all how it’s done on the dance floor; McCarthy truly is a cornerstone of the Scottish theatre’s comedic strengths.

Between McKnight’s gags stretching out the original (short-run) show’s concept, to the charming pairing of Cumming and Masson, it’s all pinned together with sensational comic timing by Andrew Panton’s direction. And while the flight may struggle to achieve the loftiest of heights for a perfect execution, and relies a touch too heavily on wink-wink-nudge delivery, which takes away from some of McKnight’s insightful and more clever elements of the stories forward-thinking nature away from, and embracing the Shortbread tin, it still makes for a cracking production to carry us over some miserable times and into sunnier outlooks.

Nostalgia can be a dreadful thing; dangerous and blinding. But when wielded correctly, and with enough tongue-in-cheek and self-assurance to still look forward, to adapt, to allow beloved characters to evolve and shift into progression, it can lead to something remarkable. No one disembarks The High Life without a smile, and that’s a promise you can bank on. For every joke which might slip over those of a younger generation, and for every ‘unalive’ which might turn a boomer’s stomach, this is a show which satirises and celebrates Scotland at its best: It’s queer, it’s fantastical, memorable, entertaining and yes, a little bit radge (in the way only Scotland can get away with). If Scotland needed a new musical, The High Life has us all soaring with glee.

---