Doing the business

I was in a troubled mood when I sat down to watch Guys and Dolls and, alas, it didn’t do much to raise my spirits. Before I started reviewing plays four years ago, I had no time for musicals. I have a tin ear for music and almost no visual sense, and the only pleasure I derived from going to the theatre was literary. For me, the characters and the plot were the thing and any musical interludes were an irritating distraction. But seeing Trevor Nunn’s production of South Pacific changed all that. For the first time, I experienced the ecstasy that a really good musical can produce. During Nellie’s showstopper — ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair’ — I had a giddy, almost floating sensation. It was pure, exhilarating joy, not dissimilar to a crack high, and I instantly became addicted. Now, when I go to a musical, I’m hoping to re-experience that high.

The first thing that struck me about Guys and Dolls was how small and hidebound the stage looked — and I was sitting in the stalls quite near the front. From the back of the upper circle, it must be the size of a postage stamp. It was a pitiful sight compared with the grand expanse of the Olivier, the largest stage at the National. Perhaps as a result of this limitation, the director Michael Grandage has created a very static, immobile production, with the actors taking turns to step in and out of the little box that forms the stage. There’s none of the fluidity that Trevor Nunn brought to South Pacific, not to mention Oklahoma! and My Fair Lady. (I didn’t much care for Anything Goes.) ‘Pedestrian’ is too strong a word to describe this production, but it’s workmanlike, uninspired. It does the business, but it’s not show business.