Choir Of Man. Arts Theatre.

The publicity blurb for Andrew Kay and Nic Doodson’s jukebox musical, The Choir of Man, helpfully tells us that there are two elements to the 90-minute show. There is the ‘choir’ bit, which comprises of 9 agreeable lads singing, dancing and generally goofing around to recognisable hits from Queen, Luther Vandross, Sia, Paul Simon, Adele, Guns & Roses, Avicii, and Katy Perry, and more. Interwoven between the songs comes the ‘man’ bit, which consists of monologue reflections on the fragile nature of modern masculinity and the enduring appeal of the British pub. The former works just fine, the latter less so.

The setting is a pub called The Jungle. A characters informs us this is an old-fashioned spit and sawdust kind of place: no burgers on brioche buns here. Except it feels rather more middle-class ersatz than that, like something out of a Richard Curtis movie from the ‘90s. You get the sense Hugh Grant might pop in any minute for a quick snifter, perhaps with The Vicar of Dibley on his arm. Certainly, no drunken fights or half-eaten kebabs to sully the fun.

The Jungle is inhabited by various typical pub types. These include, amongst others, The Hardman (Levi Tyrell Johnson) who is really rather soft inside, The Poet (Ben Norris) who acts as our host for the evening, The Handyman (Jordan Oliver) who spends his time either tap-dancing or on the phone, and The Romantic (Matt Beveridge), who sobs into his pint before bursting forth with a rousing rendition of Adele’s Hello. There is no story that connects these various characters and at the end of the show we know nothing more about them that we did when going in. But boy, can these lads sing and dance. Highlights from a recognisable mixture of dad-hits include a relentlessly positive singalong version of The Proclaimers’ I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles), and a beautifully harmonised choral take on John Farnham’s You’re The Voice.

Not much connects the tunes apart from a comforting sense of familiarity for theatregoers of a certain age, and they carry nothing in the way of narrative heft. But Jack Blume’s flawless tub-thumping musical production and Freddie Huddleston’s highly creative choreography (there is nothing this man cannot do with a pint mug) makes for an involving and inclusive evening of up-beat fun.

Norris’ poetic monologues are strongest when they reflect on the meaning of home and the challenge that men have in expressing emotions. There is a sombre reminder of the appalling toll that suicide takes on a generation of young British men. But, in their manly ability to reveal what they really think and feel, these lads, engaging though they are, feel more like manicured (even manufactured) role-models than real-life personalities.

14 October 2022

Duration: 90 minutes. No interval.

This Review First Appeared In The Reviews Hub