BWW Reviews: CARRIE, Southwark Playhouse, May 6 2015

Carrie thinks she is bleeding to death, her first period arriving at 17 going on 7, the poor girl infantalised by her mother, a woman driven mad by a literal reading of the Bible's more bloodthirsty passages. Sympathy from her classmates is there none: until Sue, the most popular girl in the class, has an attack of guilt and persuades her boyfriend, the jock with a sensitive side, Tommy, to take Carrie to the prom. Cue mean girl Chris's plot to exact revenge on misfit Carrie by means of pig blood in a pail - but Carrie has discovered powers far beyond buckets and pulleys and soon cries havoc.

Carrie (continuing at Southwark Playhouse until 30 May) was a mid-70s triumph as a slice of high school horror on screen, but a failure as a mid-80s slice of High School Musical from Hell on stage. But, with some songs ditched and new ones written, its 2012 off-Broadway revival proved much more successful and the books are now flying off the shelves in London.

On stage, the claustrophobia of Carrie's awful life is painfully immediate. She is horribly bullied at school, with ringleader Chris (a vicious Gabriella Williams) leading the in-crowd and the poor thing gets no respite at home, her mother's (genuine) love twisted irretrievably by her religious fervour. Only the gym teacher (Jodie Jacobs, stern but fair) and the golden couple (Sarah McNicholas singing beautifully as Sue and Greg Miller-Burns's Tommy - with a smile to melt any heart) show her any warmth at all and that's hardly enough.

But, notwithstanding some excellent work from a strong support cast, many of whom are still at drama school, the show stands or falls on its two principals and here casting director, Will Burton, has served director Gary Lloyd well. Kim Criswell sings with huge power and sensitivity, her operatic belt swirling round the house like evil spirits as she pours years of experience into Carrie's mother, Margaret. Her second act showstopper expressing her fear of the loneliness that will come when Carrie leaves, When There's No One, gives some light and shade to a show that can feel a little relentless in its goodies vs baddies characterisations. We don't warm to the monster, but it's a fine plea in mitigation.

Tiny she may be, but Evelyn Hoskins fills the stage with both her presence, initially Dianaishly peeking through her fringe before standing tall(ish) and proud, and her voice, singing like a West End star, especially on Evening Prayers (with Criswell). This performance is not just a musical triumph but a dramatic one too, as a single misstep could easily provoke a giggle and the thin line between shock horror and schlock horror would be crossed and the spell broken.

There's still enough left in the show to see how it flopped a quarter-century ago, but there's plenty to admire in its 21st century revival. And, in the two principals (and some very fine songs), there's more than enough cause to negotiate the exits from the Elephant and Castle tube station and head towards London Bridge - even if you do look over your shoulder on the way back in case there's a waif covered in blood following you...

Photo Claire Bilyard

To post a comment, you must register and login.