Book by Joe Penhall

Music and Lyrics by Ray Davies

Directed by Edward Hall

Review by Eloise Robertson

The Playhouse

The theatre welcomes you into a 60s musical landscape that the resurrectors of bootcut jeans and vinyl can only dream of. A mustard yellow that is unmistakeably of-an-era complements three walls of stacked speakers to excite you for the Sunny Afternoon, Waterloo Sunset, or [insert your favourite kinks song here] to come. Given the slow-build opening, it is a delight to have such a distinctive, era-affirming set to latch the eye to.

Across the tumult to come, designer Miriam Buether’s scene-setting remained a stellar feature. Spanning the musical showcases and the quieter, emotional performances was a keen attention to era-accuracy matched only by a total commitment to fun. The was expressed best in the brilliant dancing girls – Gwen, Peggy, and Joyce – who surprised and dazzled through every scene with bold patterns and cuts.

The success of these design elements did a great deal to compensate for limitations of the musical-biopic genre. The trouble came from an almost comical over-stricture to hitting the standard jukebox-biopic plot points: from the initial innocent, but ambitious, young men to homesickness, overindulgence and eventual band split (or threat of) only to return triumphantly in time for the finale. The result was a predictable beat-to-beat, and the problems the bandmates faced feeling manifested rather than merely portrayed.

When we escaped into the music, then, the reward was all-the-sweeter. The venue transformed into a concert hall while the audience regressed to the young selves who danced the nights in them. The success of Matt McKenzie’s sound design was most apparent here – hits were blasted at concert level volume, shaking the seats so you’d feel the beat in your stomach. Similarly, Rick Fisher’s lighting was a great complement; a coherent use of on stage and imposed lights made it completely exciting, never more so than when the houselights were raised as performers danced among us. In this immersion, their joyous dancing was totally infectious.

The dancing girls – Victoria Anderson’s Gwen, Jada Langley’s Joyce, and Emily Whitby–Samways’s Peggy – were essential for bringing the energy across these musical moments, matching expert dancing with addictive smiles. In these busier moments the band shone with absolute musical prowess, with Oliver Hoare’s chaotic charm as Dave Davies absolute highlight in his crowning hotel scene. Yet, it was in the quieter beats that Danny Horn’s sweet Ray Davies shone. His chemistry with Lisa Wright’s charming Rasa was undeniable, while his voice was perfectly Ray – blissful, smooth, and completely engaging. This vocal quality was matched across the cast and displayed nowhere better than in the soft and delightful acapella Days.

Across the final scenes these performances triumphed. Gone was the effort to hit plot beats or manifest trouble, now we were onto hit-after-hit with a full embrace of the concert feel. In perfect crescendo, everyone was having fun – performers and audience alike were dancing on their feet. In the end, no one could leave without a Kinks beat tracking through their minds and a well-satisfied nostalgia; both signs of a very successful evening out.

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