14 hours ago
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Raz Shaw’s exuberant production of Singin’ in the Rain opens with nothing on stage but a coat and hat. They belong to leading man Don Lockwood (a charismatic Louis Gaunt), who taps out a quick dance before shrugging them on and transforming into his movie star persona. Immediately we’re in Hollywood, a world obsessed with appearances.
It’s an apt start for a musical that pokes fun at the gap between reputation and reality. There’s Don, whose pre-Hollywood vaudeville career is at odds with his public image, and whose self-importance is quickly mocked by aspiring actress Kathy Selden (Carly Mercedes Dyer). Opposite him, co-star Lina Lamont’s on-screen glamour knocks up against her screeching voice, here delivered with squeaky relish by Laura Baldwin. The arrival of the talkies leaves the studio scrambling to save face, with entertaining if familiar consequences.
This version hits all the key beats with crowd-pleasing confidence. Everyone, of course, is waiting for that number – and the creative team know it. When Don finally starts tap-dancing in the pre-interval downpour, Gaunt teases the audience with it, playfully threatening front-row spectators with the flick of his umbrella. It’s a smart way of tackling such an iconic moment: letting us all in on the game.
This is characteristic of Shaw’s production, which – like his 2018 revival of The Producers – plays to the strengths of the Royal Exchange’s in-the-round space. Audience members are very much involved, whether as adoring movie fans, high-fiving accomplices to Cosmo Brown’s hijinks (a comic highlight in the hands of Danny Collins), or confidantes to a riled Lina. With relatively little set, the action is carried along by the excellent ensemble and Alistair David’s high-energy choreography.
The Exchange’s recent Christmas offerings have often had a more quirky or topical flavour, be it last year’s Spend Spend Spend or 2022’s musical telling of the life of Betty Boothroyd. This year, by contrast, the approach is sheer, unapologetic joy. As a respite from doom-scrolling, it feels both necessary and infectious. By the puddle-stomping finale, resistance is futile.
