It is always salutary to be reminded that the world of musical theatre extends legions wider and deeper than the constraints – financial, star name dependency – of the West End. A Face in the Crowd, with an attractive array of songs by Elvis Costello, is unlikely to grab headlines, but it is an intriguing curio of a show, a useful example of the sort of piece that the subsidised sector nurtures so effectively, thereby enriching the entire theatrical ecosystem.
The source material is the 1957 Elia Kazan film, starring Andy Griffith and Patricia Neal; book writer Sarah Ruhl has taken Budd Schulberg’s screenplay and given the central female character a sharper sense of agency and less romantic dependency. She is Marcia Jeffries (Anoushka Lucas), a local radio producer in America, whose self-proclaimed mission is to put ‘real people on the radio.’
On a visit to a jail, she encounters charismatic drifter Larry ‘Lonesome’ Rhodes (Ramin Karimloo), all easy smiles and guitar skills, and offers him a slot on her show. A star is born just when the television age is hitting its stride – and thus begin ominous scattered references to Frankenstein’s monster.
It’s a cautionary tale about celebrity, power and corruption, as soon everybody, from advertisers to politicians, wants a bit of Lonesome stardust to sprinkle over their own particular brand. Lucas, whose striking voice strains in the higher registers, beautifully suggests Martha’s wary attraction to her unpredictable creation, with professional considerations just about holding out over personal desires. Burn the Paper Down to Ash, the number she sings when her resolve finally falters, is mesmerising.
Lucas made a name for herself in the recent Young Vic production of Oklahoma, which subsequently transferred to the West End, and this is another fascinatingly watchful performance.
Karimloo powers through the succession of short scenes on Anna Fleischle’s flexible design of a variety of studio sets and we long to discover what secret fires are burning underneath Lonesome’s demeanour of hometown affability.
He weds teenage drum majorette Betty Lou (Emily Florence, excellent) and, catastrophically, starts to believe his own hype. Three tuneful backing singers are ever on hand to chirp up with perkily perfect 50s-style advertising jingles.
Kwame Kwei-Armah directs this show, his final production during his underwhelming tenure as artistic director of the Young Vic. Like so much of the work that has been on at this venue over recent years, it frustratingly doesn’t quite manage to coalesce into a satisfying whole, despite promising components. Yet as the American election draws inexorably nearer, it leaves us contemplating once more how much of a gap is desirable between the worlds of entertainment and politics.
To 9 November (020 7922 2922, youngvic.org)
