Piaf (Newbury)

This is an abbreviated version of the Pam Gems‘ play that was originally
produced by the RSC at Stratford, subsequently transferring to London in a
production that starred Jane Lapotaire in the title role.

Under the direction of John Doyle, this new version is slicker, leaner,
earthier, and ultimately more poignant than before. Indeed, the trust
demonstrated by the leading participants in each other’s experience is the
reason why the boundaries of emotional melodrama are so successfully
transcended, and Josephine Baird indeed proves transcendent in the title
role.

As the play charts the fortunes of Edith Piaf (universally to become known
as the diminutive sparrow) from poverty to fame and back to poverty again,
her life story is traced out. Born in France during the first World War, she
became an internationally acclaimed tragedienne chanteuse, and by the time
she died in 1963, had left behind a stunning repertoire of unique musical
memories, many of which this production revives and recreates.

The play maintains interest and credence by being imaginatively set by Mark
Bailey in seedy nightclubs and dressing rooms, with the five-piece band
members doubling up (a signature of Doyle’s productions) as managers,
manics, and malingering maladroits. Happy hooker Toine (Karen Mann) is
the only constancy in Piaf’s life, but even she gets an undeserved
comeuppance from the egotistical singer in her dying moments.

Papa Leplee, Marcel and Pierre (Mike Afford) try to keep Piaf on track
and on song, but it’s like trying to climb Everest every day. The chanteuse is
determinedly profligate, but still induces support and sympathy from her
entourage as she falls from the peaks of her brilliance. In their varying guises, Holly Ashton, Michael Howcroft, and Paul
Harvard add to the flavour. From euphoria to disgust, they chart a
tightrope of razor’s edge emotions.

If you’ll pardon my French, this play is a “tour-de-force” for both Baird
and Doyle, while Sarah Travis‘s handling of the musical arrangements are
adequate compensation for a dearth of humour in the first act.

In the second act, Piaf’s life becomes increasingly frenetic on its tragic
path. “La Vie En Rose” and “Je Ne Regret Rien” are heartrendingly performed.
But above all else, the enduring memory of Piaf is the way in which the
fading star, alone in her dressing room, takes us with her into the depths
of hell, sharing the pain and glory of her intimate, despairing and
despicable end. Baird is an absolute star.

– John Timperley