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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Entertainment
Malcolm Jack

Take That review – master crowdpleasers deliver a flaming carnival of pop

Take That.
Simple ritualistic pleasures … Take That. Photographs: Dave J Hogan/Getty Images

If there existed some sort of Anglo equivalent of Las Vegas then this Mancunian manband would surely be booked there in permanent residency. Not even a fluctuating lineup and an iffy latest album have undermined their status as primetime, seat-filling, theatrical pop entertainers.

On their second tour as a three-piece, Gary Barlow, Mark Owen and Howard Donald look the part as they emerge from different corners of the arena wearing Elvis-esque white leather jackets and trousers, tasseled and rhinestone-studded. They continue to find ways to freshen up the format, this time with an in-the-round setup that proffers superior views. It’s a relatively scaled-back affair compared with the bonkers exuberance of Take That tours gone by, but still a relentlessly eye-filling spectacle. Musicians pop in and out of view on hydraulic risers and a cast of acrobatic dancers variously sword-fight on stilts, dangle from bungee cords, writhe on giant inflatable flower petals and lead a carnivalesque conga line around the stage, the three Thats tucked in among them like retirees in Rio.

Blink and you’ll miss Howard being yanked towards the heavens on a wire from the midst of a human pyramid during Underground Machine. Check your phone and you’ll fail to enjoy the sight of Mark waving for dear life from the top of Gary’s piano during the bargain bin Beatles-y track New Day. Relight My Fire must run up one hell of a gas bill with all the jets of flame it expends.

take that

None of which is as essential as the simple ritualistic pleasures Take That fans keep coming back for: the screamiest of scream-alongs to Back for Good, the most swaying of sway-alongs to Shine, the customary mass arm-wave and clap motions of Never Forget. During the sax break of Pray, Gary, Mark and Howard get perhaps their biggest shriek just by breaking out some sexless retro dance moves, recalling the band’s litany of 90s crimes against choreography. The only piece of theatre missing is a dramatic return for Robbie and Jason – and who would rule that out in future?

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