Reviewed by Barry Lenny, Sunday 18th June 2017
Souvenir was written for the English Brighton Festival to commemorate the Theatre Royal It was a collaboration between
Meow Meow, Jherek Bischoff, who is also the musical director, and August Von Trapp, the great-grandson of the Captain, Georg Ritter von Trapp.
The original blurb, "A fantastical song cycle on the half-remembered, misreported history of the Theatre Royal", has been changed to Her Majesty's Theatre to repurpose the concert for this Festival. This does, of course, make some parts out of context, as they related specifically to the original venue. Whether half-remembered or misreported in that context, the doomed Arctic explorer, Sir
John Franklin, has no connection to our theatre. It is arguable that he had none to the Theatre Royal, either. The ghosts of the Theatre Royal are not those of Her Majesty's. Whether or not that really matters is open to conjecture.
Meow Meow's 'kamikaze cabaret' was in evidence as she entered the auditorium and made her way to the stage through, or more accurately, over the audience, clambering over the front few rows to reach the stage. When the fire curtain rose it revealed a bare stage, the orchestra gathered around a clinker built dinghy. Lacking light to read her notes, she commandeered an illuminated exit sign from the rear of the stage and, wanting atmosphere, she produced a handheld smoke generator.
Then it all changed as she launched into the music, backed by local musicians in jackets that made them look rather like a circus band, and dubbed the Orchester der Kleinen Regiment for the evening. Combining a string quartet, a small brass section, and a rhythm section, with
John Thorn at the piano, this excellent band provided both music and the ethereal soundscapes behind the monologues.
It suddenly became a serious concert, with only moments of the familiar humour, until a brief interlude in which she claimed to be fulfilling her supposed contractual obligations to include a moment of burlesque. It was then immediately back to being a serious affair again, aside from some unintended humour provided by one inattentive member of the Lilliputian Opera Company, eleven local children providing backing vocals to a couple of the numbers.
It all began with a monologue; the theatre telling its own story.
Meow Meow read from a script, contained in a large folder on a stand next to her. Disappointingly, this was to continue throughout the concert, the reading becoming mildly distracting, tying her to the one spot, and distancing the audience a little.
The themes are diverse and disconnected, more stream of consciousness than narrative. A good dramaturge and some strong direction would have helped, as would a printed programme.
That said, she is a superb storyteller, and her remarkable singing voice and ability to embrace a wide range of styles carries this performance. I was personally thrilled that she mentioned the wonderful Phyl Skinner, a Tivoli dancer, comedienne, a legendary vaudeville performer, one-time assistant to Roy Rene, who created the iconic character, Mo McCackie, and, as it happens, she was also my tap teacher.
It was fascinating to see
Meow Meow performing in such a restrained mode, introspective, and focussing entirely on the songs and stories for so much of the performance. She demonstrated that the anarchic comedy is not essential to her ability to hold and please an audience. This site-specific work is a new direction for her and has much to recommend it. One wonders whether this is the beginning of a new phase in
Meow Meow's illustrious career. Time will tell.
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