Cy Coleman’s The Life, with lyrics by Ira Gasman and book co-authored by David Newman, will whisk you off to 42nd Street. The musical is directed with fizz by Michael Blakemore, who oversaw the Broadway original 20 years ago. But the problem is that while it aims to show how tough life was for prostitutes in 80s New York, The Life revels for more than three hours (too long) in the exuberant glamour of the life it theoretically condemns.
That said, the cast, in saucily motley costumes, is super-talented. When the magnificent Sharon D Clarke sings about being too old for the oldest profession, she turns weariness into theatrical gold. Cornell S John, an ominously relaxed pimp, is magnetic too – using his smile as a weapon. And there is a lovely, unforced performance as Queen by T’Shan Williams – a new star who makes you believe she is enslaved to her Vietnam vet and coke-addict boyfriend Fleetwood (fine-voiced David Albury).
The dancing (choreographer Tom Jackson Greaves) is lively but the stage often feels crowded, as if restlessly resolved to find itself a bigger theatre.
