42nd Street makes old-school glamour its own

Five Stars out of Five Stars

G.K. Chesterton once said “What a glorious garden of wonders the lights of Broadway would be to anyone lucky enough to be unable to read.” If all musicals were like Mark Bramble and Martin Dodd’s revival of 42^nd Street then I would happily be illiterate. It was everything it should have been – top hats, tails, sequins, chorus lines and time steps – but it was done so beautifully and with such zeal that it could have been their opening night circa 1933 rather than 2012.

Against the anxious backdrop of the depression, Broadway impresario Julian Marsh (played by musical theatre legend Dave Willetts) puts on a show, partly to keep himself in work, but also to give a troupe of dancers a livelihood. And to be honest, that’s it. That, largely, is the plot. It’s not that remarkable when you explain it to someone else, but you can’t really explain in words how marvellous the ensemble looked as they tapped their way up and down light bulb encrusted steps.

When it was over I felt full. I felt like I’d had a meal with umpteen courses and refreshing sorbets in between. Dorothy Brock, the ageing Broadway legend who stars in the fictional show, was played by a particularly brilliant Marti Webb. When she stood centre stage for ‘I only have eyes for you’, dripping in red velvet, she couldn’t possibly be upstaged by the imposing black background, punctured all over with tiny, glittering ‘stars’. And the running joke that she was such an appalling dancer that she had to be ‘covered up’ by the chorus line, made for a hilarious routine in which she was gloriously clumsy and out of time, continually one step behind the ensemble.

Providing unparalleled hilarity throughout was Jessica Punch as Peggy Sawyer. They couldn’t have cast this naïve, tapping prodigy with anyone better. Punch is old-school. Her sense of comic timing is impeccable, she dances with ease and charisma, and she was impossible not to love.

In and amongst all of these shining stars and starring roles, however, was the best chorus I have ever seen. The smiles on their faces were unshakable, they were in perfect unison throughout, and they all had distinct characters despite their comparatively few lines. In the very first scene, one of the girls, not a finger wave out of place, warned Peggy away from the amorous leading man with the cutting; ‘He’s a tenor but he’s got bass ideas.’ The audience was roaring.

When you put it all together you have the formula for a jaw-droppingly good musical. You need a sassy, demanding starlet who’s slightly past her best, a plucky young tapper who saves the day, a stressed director keeping everyone off the breadline, and sparkle. Lots and lots of sparkle.

If you want some 1930s New York glamour to distract you from rainy Manchester then look no further, it’s at the Palace right now.

‘42^nd Street’ ran at the Palace Theatre from the 23^rd to 27^th October