'The Billie Holiday Story' review or 'Sing, my angel of music, SING!'
Nina
Kristofferson's Billie Holiday Story
Charing
Cross Theatre, Thursday 4th
April 2013
Written for Time Out
A beautiful singer, wearing a dress dripping in sparkles, shoots up
as she prepares to sing. Behind her, New York skyscrapers rise up and
morph into ugly taunting faces and a dull heart beat thuds in the
distance.
Nina Kristofferson’s one-lady-show tries to pull us into the bluest
side of Billie Holiday's career: the drugs, rage and fear that trembled
behind that extraordinary voice. But Kristofferson’s performance,
although committed and passionate, feels really self-conscious.
Her edgy script is too obscure and perhaps too angry. As it jolts
defiantly between scattered anecdotes, Kristofferson struggles to find
her rhythm. Director Ben Woolf peppers the production with odd bursts of
‘atmosphere’: babies cry and lights throb ominously – these moments add
up to little and only enhance the shaky atmosphere.
Even the most mellifluous songs, such as ‘A Fine Romance’, feel
forced. All of Holiday’s infamous tics are carefully observed; the
mannered swooping and the singing so relaxed, it feels like chatting.
But Kristofferson spends so much time mimicking Holiday that she forgets
to just open her mouth wide and sing.
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