'Kiss Me Kate' review or 'What about the other cheek?'

Kiss Me Kate

Watermill Theatre, 29th July 2019

Written for The Guardian 

Brush up your Shakespeare, start quoting him now” – or so the famous song goes. This absurdly talented cast must have also brushed up on their singing, dancing and instrumental skills – director Paul Hart has created the first actor-musician version of Kiss Me, Kate, with a tiny team of 12. There are a few wobbly notes and the big ensemble numbers are a little ragged, but the result of this bold new approach is a chorus completely in tune with each other. Here is a version of Cole Porter’s jazz-inflected romantic comedy that celebrates the pure joy of theatrical collaboration.

Sam and Bella Spewack’s sophisticated play-within-a-play book and Cole Porter’s exquisitely varied score – which includes Latin pastiche, vaudeville show tunes and steamy jazz songs – is a challenge for even the largest cast on a big budget. But the beauty of Hart’s production is that it makes a virtue out of its limitations.

Choreographer Oti Mabuse has little space to play with but uses it brilliantly. Too Darn Hot is a study in frustrated dynamism, as André Fabien Francis and the ensemble dancers rush up to the edges of the stage, intent on expressing themselves despite the protests raging outside their theatre. Kimmy Edwards runs rings around the chorus during Always True to You in My Fashion, weaving her way through the musicians on stage and leading them in a dizzying dance of seduction.

The show is packed with sly moments of physical comedy that constantly poke fun at the potential chaos behind the collaborative process. Actors awkwardly transition from one role to the next: a comedy henchman finishes his skit and spins back towards the piano; a soulful jazz pianist suddenly finds himself in a suit of armour, blinking under the spotlights; a percussionist realises he is needed centre stage, yelps and scurries off into the wings.

This gleeful spontaneity also lights up the central romance between actors and ex-lovers Lilli and Fred, who are forced to play the Bard’s Kate and Petruchio night after night – one year on from their divorce. The sparring between this couple can often seem cruel, but Rebecca Trehearn’s Lilli and David Ricardo-Pearce’s Fred are tender and cheeky. Both do their best work backstage, sitting at opposite dressing tables and staring at each other’s reflections as they desperately try to act away their emotions.

Trehearn is a study in steely serenity as she storms through rehearsals with a stony expression on her face. Yet when she sings, what a transformation! Trehearn’s vocal control is exquisite – you never doubt she’ll hit each note perfectly – yet she also demonstrates freedom. Her version of So in Love hums with a feeling of release: here is a person finally allowing herself to be known.

Meanwhile, Fred makes love to the audience, his fellow actors and anyone else who’ll listen. Ricardo-Pearce is that rare breed: a male actor happy to laugh at himself. His big number – Where Is the Life That I Led? – is a joy, as he weaves among the crowd, hamming it up to his heart’s content. But it’s the moments when the showboating stops that silence us. Stripped of his costume, Ricardo-Pearce’s Petruchio sings So in Love. He hugs himself and stands on an empty stage, a moment of truth in a life spent playing somebody else.