Our House

Published Wednesday 4 June 2008 at 11:30 by Richard Edmonds

For the first 30 minutes of this vaguely raucous and stereotypical musical show, I did not have the least idea what was going on. As Matthew Warchus knows only too well, if a narrative is to be carried on a lyric, that particular lyric and its delivery across to us, must be crystal clear.

Sadly this was not the case on many occasions throughout a heavy evening, filled with stereotypes and production numbers which revived trace memories of Chicago, Blood Brothers and others - even Hamlet, since our hero has a ghostly father on hand to give advice from the other side and sing some dismal songs.

In its original structure, it seems to me that much of this show was initially joyful and vibrant, with a certain delicacy.

Somehow, those qualities translated into hugely busy production numbers become often joyless and dull. When that happens, the band hoists up the decibels even higher to beat you into submission until you sit with your fingers in your ears, a precaution taken when the structures of the inner ear are considered more valuable than the noisy pleasures of the evening.

As the evening rolls along, a young company dance their hearts out in various sequences from a Vegas wedding to a London market. As the dialogue flashes past and the lyrics flash past even faster, you get some of what Warchus is trying to get across to us - is a moral structure worked out through the same young man, Joe Casey, half of whose nature is good, while the other half is naughty and greedy. Chris Carswell plays both facets with energy and a sense of purpose and at least two facial expressions.

But there is little to tax your mind here and few things to amuse either, but if you like bouncy evenings of an escapist nature, get along to a theatre near you.