This silk purse production of a silly bit of musical fluff follows a
struggling young painter as he relives the events involving his
standard-issue parents and quirky girlfriends which have lead him to
the brink of jumping off a building.
The trouble is that the script is not nearly as funny as the talented
cast play it. It has some funny one-liners, not least from the mother
bitching about her son (“She’s got him smoking like a black man. No
wonder his painting’s crap.”) but with the exception of a pleasant
love duet towards the end, the songs are tedious, adding nothing of
dramatic or melodic value. The script’s endless sexual references are
Adam Purnell’s attractive and adaptable set and the pace and precision
of Patrick Wilde’s production give it all much more than it deserves.
As Wilde did with Blondel, he makes uninspired material jaunty and
entertaining. The true star of the show is Wilde but the material
remains pretty tame.