Review: GATSBY, Southwark Playhouse

Every once in a while, we fall prey to the glitz and glam of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Jazz Age. In the smaller space at Southwark Playhouse, it's 1929. Daisy Buchanan - who now wants to be referred to with her maiden name, Fay - was in a sanatorium for seven years before escaping, still seemingly drugged up and confused, to find Jay Gatsby and live their extravagant life together. But Gatsby, of course, was killed in his swimming pool. We know it, everyone else seems to know it too. With the help of speakeasy owner Woolfe, Daisy retraces the events that led up to that fateful day.

The musical should be a sparkling, lavish treat. Sadly, it has the charm of a dead fish. Where Fitzgerald looked behind the polish and shine of the American Dream and presented a cynical view of it, Linnie Reedman and Joe Evans reduce his commentary on class and wealth to a love triangle where Buchanan and Gatsby circle Daisy like stray cats fighting over a scrap of food in a back alley.

The gossip and affairs staged aren't meaty enough to support the 140 minutes (which, by the way, overrun by quite a bit) of banal and nondescript jazz score and lyrics. Against the golden vibe of idealised decadence, we find interesting characters - often side ones - surrounded by others who lack in charisma as much as chemistry with their romantic interests.

Jodie Steele is a mentally troubled Daisy who fidgets with her wedding ring and looks like she's on the brink of losing it, but abandons herself to the popular and trendy former glory of her shallow socialite during the long flashbacks. As her husband, Bradley Clarkson probably gives the best performance of the night along with Freddie Love as Jordan Baker. He's brash and rude as he barks his lines with a crooked smile, man-spreading at any given chance and basking in being the baddie. All the way, Luke Bayer's Nick Carraway acts like a lost, overacting puppy following Daisy around without an inch of emotion.

By the time Gatsby appears, we should revel in the reveal. He's been mentioned from the very start of the show, with Fitzgerald's novel and its iconic cover even making an appearance as some self-referential experiment, but the necessary suspense and curiosity fail to develop. So, when Ross William Wild finally enters stage right, there's no build-up ready to welcome him as the title character.

While he's very good at languidly looking at Daisy, he's not a magnetic presence. He comes off more like a petulant child until he sings (such a gorgeous voice!) - but, even then, the songs don't do Gatsby any justice and there are no sparks between him and the professed love of his life. Jordan and Daisy have more chemistry between them, and Love is fantastic as the amateur golfer and Daisy's best friend.

It's very difficult to translate the aura of The Great Gatsby to any other medium, and this musical misses the mark almost entirely. It looks and sounds cheap, from ill-fitting suits to the tinny reverb of the microphones leading to an insipid attempt. "So we beat on, boats against the current" trying to find a passable adaptation of one of the Great American Novels.

Gatsby runs at Southwark Playhouse until 8 January 2022.

Photo credit: Lisa Crisafulli

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