Modern Musicals are Rubbish

Unlikely Hero Comes to the Rescue of the British Musical

Mamma Mia! Is one of my favourite shows, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. The plot may be a bizarre contrivance, but the jokes, the dancing, and ABBA’s music make for a fabulous, screamingly camp, night at the theatre. Buddy was OK as well, and you can’t go that far wrong with Queen, as the writers of We Will Rock You have found out to their profit.

But there are limits. The Rod Stewart musical ‘Tonight’s the Night’ was far from alright. Madness’ show only lasted a couple of months before slinking off in embarrassment. And now they’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel.

First up is ‘Movin’ Out’ a show based on the horribly annoying songs of Billy Joel. Next we have the chance to immerse ourselves in ‘Daddy Cool’, the Boney M musical, which I wrote about in January, and which has nothing whatsoever to recommend it apart from hopefully being the very worst show of all time. ‘Footloose’ follows, which might even be quite good, but there’s a whole heap of even less promising projects in the pipeline.

Whatever happened to actually sitting down and writing new songs for your shows? Andrew Lloyd Webber has gone completely off the boil (his latest, ‘The Woman in White’ will be closing this week), but that doesn’t mean that nobody else should bother trying. ‘Glorious’ closes in April, and at that point the only musicals on in the West End will be Broadway imports, movie adaptations, pop act tributes or shows written in the last century.

The Blue Man Group, The Producers, Guys and Dolls and the forthcoming Avenue Q are fabulous shows, and there are still great British classics like Blood Brothers, and Phantom. But musicals are the most popular live entertainment we have in this country, and if there is no new generation of Willy Russells and Andrew Lloyd-Webbers, they will eventually go the way of movies, dominated by American imports, and feeble remakes.

Elton John’s fine soundtrack for ‘Billy Elliot’ suggests that Ms. Furness might have a big show in him, but the real glimmer of hope for the West End comes from a more surprising source: Damon Albarn. “The blackest man in West London” (according to ex-bandmate Alex James) will be launching a musical set in and around the music scene of Ladbroke Grove and covering 40 years life in multi-ethnic London.

It sounds like the worst idea ever. But for some reason, everything Albarn touches turns to gold (and yes I have got over my teenage crush on him, thank you very much). He’s reinvented himself as a hip-hop producer, a world music star, and a hard rocker in the last decade, and if anyone’s going to revive the British musical, it’ll be him.

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