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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Entertainment
Arifa Akbar

Becoming Nancy review – coming out musical fails to hit the high notes

Plenty of energy … Paige Peddie, Joseph Vella and Joseph Peacock in Becoming Nancy.
Plenty of energy … Paige Peddie, Joseph Vella and Joseph Peacock in Becoming Nancy. Photograph: Mark Senior

This musical, about a boy’s coming out, has an important story to tell. Adapted from Terry Ronald’s novel, it explores homophobic bullying, racism and same-sex love at a time when it was illegal for teens.

Set in late 1970s London, it follows David Starr (Joseph Peacock) as he is bullied by classmates after being cast as Nancy in a school production of Oliver! In the same mould as several successful high-school musicals with vulnerability at their heart, and dealing specifically in sexual identity, it looked a sure-fire hit on paper. But this production, directed by Jerry Mitchell, fails to light.

Some of that is down to generic characterisation in an unsubtle and flat-footed book by Elliot Davis. The gusto with which Peacock plays David is admirable but his character seems stuck in single gear. Most of the characters similarly do not come to life, from David’s quietly dissatisfied mother to his initially homophobic father and cliched school bullies (mainly a cartoonishly bigoted British jock egged on by a PE teacher).

Those who might have had a more vital and textured role, such as David’s camp drama teacher, take a back seat while his love interest, Maxie (Joseph Vella), seems bright-eyed and untroubled by his sexuality until abruptly changing.

David’s best friend, Frances (Paige Peddie), who brings the storyline around race, is a sole highlight. Every time she is on stage you find yourself drawn to her, not least because of her phenomenal singing voice.

Characters seem like automatons for the plot and do not channel any real degree of feeling. The songs are bland, too. Having premiered in Atlanta in 2019 with music by George Stiles and lyrics by Anthony Drewe, this UK premiere has additional songs by Stiles, Davis and Ronald. A few work, such as Who I Am and Ready to Be Touched. But most are generic with lyrics that sometimes sound conversational.

The choreography, also by Mitchell, resembles a rudimentary 1980s aerobics workout and the period detail as a whole seems approximate. David’s bedroom posters of Sting, Blondie and Kate Bush come alive to advise or reflect on his predicament, in song, but are feebly conceived. It contains plenty of energy but this show about a drama club production of Oliver! has a school play quality itself. What the Dickens?

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