BWW Reviews: THE SCOTTSBORO BOYS, Garrick Theatre, October 20 2014

One thing that isn't in dispute when it comes to this transfer of The Scottsboro Boys is the quality of the performances. A stunning cast of triple-threats are impressive from the off; and the direction and choreography of Susan Stroman is beautiful.

The balance between entertainment and utter grim horror, however, is an uneasy one. This is, of course, what the cast and creators intend; as we watch the unfolding of the failures of an institutionally racist justice system, incarcerating nine young men, we find ourselves laughing at some humour, thrilling to tap dance routines, admiring the harmonies - and then pull ourselves up short at the incongruity of finding enjoyment in such a tale.

At least, that's the plan. Unfortunately I'm not sure that it always happens; the most irritating audience reaction for me was the girlish giggling as Haywood Patterson, played by Brandon Victor Dixon, stripped off to put on his prison clothes. And I'm not sure that the lampooning of racial, religious and gender stereotypes was always recognised for what it was, making for discomfort as people laughed with appreciation rather than distaste or nerves.

Of course, John Kander and Fred Ebb have dusted glitz and glamour over the seedy, the sensational and the serious previously in Cabaret and Chicago; creating dual worlds which operate simultaneously and collide at the end having lured us in to a fiction that never really existed. The Scottsboro Boys, however, playing without an interval, feels like it is trying to do too much in its two hours, stretching its central conceit (of a minstrel show staged to finally show the truth of the story) too thinly. Perhaps the 'reality' of the Scottsboro story is simply too much to handle.