Miss Saigon

Listening to the Miss Saigon gala performance on Radio 2, I was reminded of the genius of Boublil and Schönberg’s musical. It’s less than a month since I day queued on a (thankfully mild) December morning, getting seats in Row A of the Stalls, and the recording brought back great memories. But, perhaps because it’s sung-through, it also translated perfectly to radio in its own right, just as the iconic songs stand on their own merit.

Like Les Misérables, Miss Saigon is an epic musical set against the background of a turbulent period in history. And like Les Mis, Miss Saigon focuses not on the grand historical perspective but examines the impact of these events on the personal lives of people involved. While never overtly political, Miss Saigon has a lot to say about American culture as well as the tragedy of war. Coming hot on the heels of the war of resistance against the French, when Vietnam was part of Indochina, the Vietnamese suffered three decades of continuous war in their country. Miss Saigon captures the disruptive impact of a war on every citizen of the country where it is fought.

The cast boasts a wealth of talent. Understudy Niall Sheehy gave a good performance as Chris, but he was dwarfed by the vocal talents and charisma of Eva Noblezada as Kim who, along with Jon Jon Briones as the Engineer, was the standout star of the show. Poor, Vietnamese and a woman, Kim has arguably the least agency of any of the main characters. Along with the other bar girls she has very few options. Yet her (slightly naïve) faith in Chris and her determination to provide her son with a better life give her strength to fight against her situation and survive the war. Noblezada brings both a naivety and a steely determination to the role.

Though unlikely to become a poster boy for the ideal, the Engineer embodies the American Dream and his spirit of entrepreneurialism would surely have seen him prosper if he had found himself born in America. Briones, who played the role in the original West End cast, brings humanity to a man who has learned the only way to survive in turbulent times is to play the game. His morals are questionable but you find yourself feeling for this man who always finds the elusive American Dream just out of his reach. He both demonstrates the overwhelming power of the Dream in giving hope to the downtrodden and gives the lie to the idea of meaningful social mobility for the majority of the world’s population.

Nowadays Vietnam War has perhaps slipped from public consciousness, at least in the UK, with a younger generation who know very little about it. But you don’t have to have any knowledge of the history to appreciate the musical – as the adaptation of the plot from Madame Butterfly demonstrates, Miss Saigon deals with universal themes. The impact of war, cultural difference, personal courage and cowardice are all as relevant today as they have ever been.

When the helicopter comes to evacuate Saigon, both Americans and Vietnamese are swept up in events beyond their own control – it is purely an accident of birth that the Americans are being airlifted to safety while the Vietnamese are left to suffer.

Chris’s ignorance of Vietnamese customs and his and his wife’s inability to comprehend Kim’s desire for a new life for her son are symptomatic of the cultural gulf between the two worlds that have been thrown together. His broken promises, social strictures and his inability to understand Kim’s culture have disastrous consequences – echoing the unintended repercussions of many Western interventions.

Miss Saigon is not only a rousing musical filled with iconic songs but also a fascinating social commentary exploring universal themes.

Urinetown the Musical

Urinetown isn’t the catchiest title for a musical – but then urination isn’t the most appealing subject for a theatre production. Nevertheless, Urinetown does indeed follow the trials and tribulations of a community in its quest to go to the bathroom.

In a Malthusian dystopia where environmental catastrophe has led to prolonged drought, the population is overwhelming the world’s resources. The severe water shortage has created a unique business opportunity for Caldwell B. Cladwell; with private toilets now unthinkable, citizens must pay him for the privilege to pee – or be dispatched to the eponymous Urinetown.

As Cladwell presides over his lavatorial empire, the scene is set by Officer Lockstock. His self-knowing asides could have been grating in lesser hands than those of Jonathan Slinger, who keeps the narration fresh and the action flowing. They do also allow the musical’s dialogue to remain relatively free from unnecessary exposition.

While throwing out some thought-provoking themes and questions – the corrupting influence of power, is history doomed to repeat itself? – Urinetown sometimes lacks emotional punch. This isn’t to fault the cast, who are fantastic. Jenna Russell relishes her role as Penelope Pennywise, giving her an air of Mrs Lovett – interspersed throughout the musical are parodies, pastiches and tributes to musical tropes and there are several Sondheim-esque moments. Richard Fleeshman has leading man charisma as Bobby Strong, leader of the revolution against Cladwell, and the whole cast perform with such gusto that you can’t help but be swept away with them. Run, Freedom, Run – a catchy gospel number – received the longest mid-performance ovation I’ve ever seen.

Urinetown’s slightly facetious tone may sometimes have failed to tug at my heartstrings but its unexpected plot twists certainly kept me guessing. Urinetown is keen to point out that it’s not a “happy” musical. But neither is it a self-indulgent tragedy. Despite its seemingly far-fetched setting and slightly cartoony style, Urinetown is actually quite a pragmatic look at politics and society.

When storytelling, the most glorious revolutions are often the unsuccessful ones. Take Les Mis – there’s a reason it’s set during the 1832 Paris Uprising rather than the more famous eighteenth-century Revolution. Marius and the Friends of the ABC capture our hearts as the underdogs fighting for a doomed cause against the establishment. The rebels of Les Mis die idealistic (if naive) martyrs. If instead of dying on the barricades the revolutionaries had succeeded, who’s to say that there wouldn’t have been a repeat of the violence, war, in-fighting and Reign of Terror that followed the French Revolution of 1787. And that would have made for a very different story. Without giving too much away, Urinetown is no Les Mis, and offers a much less romantic take on revolution.

While it seems ironic that Urinetown opened to a country beset by widespread flooding, it brings home the immediate impact of environmental issues. And the fact that difficult questions – environmental or political – don’t have simple answers.

 

 

On a more practical note, it was my first time at the St. James Theatre and I found myself on the front row, not having bargained for quite how close to the action I’d be. If you like inspecting actors’ fillings and don’t mind the odd spray of saliva my seat comes highly recommended, but if you like your personal space I’d think about sitting a few rows back.

Fringe Theatre: Playground of the Privileged

Michael Boyd, former RSC chief, put forward his concerns in the Guardian this week that theatre could become ‘a gorgeous plaything of the wealthy’, with arts education threatened in state schools and prohibitively expensive fees for university courses. He fears that theatre is ‘in danger of self-selecting the wealthy’. His views remind me of my feelings while working as an intern in a fringe theatre – another aspect of the arts that  lends itself to a proliferation of the rich and privileged in the theatre industry.

At its best, fringe theatre is a training ground for upcoming talent, whether it be actors, writers, directors or producers. You can’t expect to make a fortune in a fifty seat theatre over a run of three or four weeks, but you hope that even if you don’t get a transfer you’ll make contacts and attract press to give you (hopefully!) good reviews.

Fringe theatres are not only frequented by young actors seeking a break but also by experienced and established actors who presumably are either attracted to a particular project, have a break in their schedule, want to support emerging talent or just enjoy working in these intimate spaces.

And the quality of the performances in these theatres is often very high. Freed from the constraints placed on many commercial productions, companies often produce inventive and engaging productions of both new and forgotten plays.

Yet for all its benefits and idealism, in practice fringe theatre has become (or has always been?) a playground for the rich. People work right through their twenties on the fringe, never making any money despite receiving critical acclaim. Some of these people have never had a paid job, presumably funding uni and what has essentially become a hobby from the bank of mum and dad.

It goes without saying that if to get a foot in the door as a producer, director or stage manager you first have to work for free for a substantial period this is a significant barrier to having any diversity in this industry. It’s unsurprising that almost everyone I met working in fringe theatre was distinctly middle-class. This isn’t to say that these people aren’t working incredibly hard, but rather that it’s a problem that fringe theatre has become the preserve of those who can afford to play at having a job without ever needing to earn a salary.

There is often concern about actors not receiving a living wage – understandably, as they are the most prominent, and glamorous, members of a company. Yet at least they are being paid something; it’s rarely acknowledged, or at least not so prominently, that often nobody else in a company is being paid at all.

In the theatre that I interned in, everybody was working for free. For some this was a way to boost their CV, while also working freelance or holding down a day job. But the theatre ‘managers’ (of which I was one) also worked for free, and there was no chance of me taking paid work while I was frequently putting in ten hour days and six day weeks.

I worked (paid) all summer, only to see my savings swallowed up by train fares (this made no less depressing by the fact that this was what I’d designated them for – it being seemingly impossible to get a paid job in theatre without first working for free). And, despite saving, I was only able to consider internships in London (where the majority are centred) thanks to the fact that my parents live close enough to London for me to commute. What hope for those who live outside of the M25? It would be almost impossible to save enough doing menial jobs to cover living costs in London if you had to support yourself completely – and I honestly don’t think that a lot of these internships would be worth it.

At least I was doing something productive that could enhance my CV – the theatre is kept going by relying on unpaid ‘interns’ who effectively end up as unpaid cleaners and box office assistants. While for some this is a short-term chore that leads to contacts and opportunities, for others they leave weeks or months down the line in the same position they were in when they started, only significantly poorer.

People sometimes struggled to understand why I couldn’t provide them with interns to deliver leaflets, or to help them get out their set, when they weren’t even paying them expenses. In my experience, most people are more than willing to put in the hard graft if they feel that they are going to get something in return, or even if they just feel that their work will be appreciated, but instead it is expected that they should be willing to jump to any task as needed, however menial, and however short the notice, and be grateful for the opportunity. I would have thought it was blindingly obvious why people soon stopped volunteering themselves for these thankless tasks, but apparently not to some working in fringe theatres.

With funding cuts in the arts it seems unlikely that this situation will improve any time soon. However, unless there are paid entry-level jobs in the arts theatre will continue to become increasingly elite and removed from society.

American Psycho

The much-hyped (thanks to the presence of ex-Doctor Matt Smith) new musical American Psycho at the Almeida was, to be honest, a bit of a letdown. I’m a big fan of quirky musicals and, although I didn’t know much about the book or the film I thought I’d give it a go. It turned out to be annoyingly inconsistent – with some intriguing parts, but leaving me a bit unsatisfied. Although not the fault of the musical, I also wasn’t impressed by the reveal about Patrick Bateman’s mental state at the end of the show, which somehow rendered the whole thing a bit pointless for me.

Matt Smith was ok as Patrick, a hard part to play, with a fine line between capturing the emotionless monster with a charming exterior and creating a character that people are bothered about watching. But I didn’t find him particularly engaging or scary and was left pretty unmoved by his serial murdering. In fact at times I almost forgot that he was a serial killer, a fact that for much of the musical seemed pretty inconsequential to the plot. As someone with a serious squeamishness about even the least gratuitous violence, I was at more than one point watching through half-closed eyes as Patrick prepared to kill his next victim. I needn’t have worried – the violence was so symbolic that even I wasn’t bothered by it.

Among the rest of the cast, Cassandra Compton stood out as Patrick’s secretary Jean. There’s a rare touching scene as Jean prepares to meet with Patrick, where I for the first time felt that he harboured any humanity beneath his blank exterior. I found the whole musical a bit soulless – which I guess is an occupational hazard when creating a musical based on a book that satirises the empty, vacuous lifestyles of American yuppies. In general it proved hard to care about the majority of the characters.

At points, as a scene became increasingly serious I would find it increasingly comical – I’m pretty sure this wasn’t intentional. There were some purposefully amusing moments but from the laughs these seemed to appeal largely to the posher elements of the audience.

Again I found the original score patchy – the opening number Clean is a bit grating and You Are What You Wear dragged. I was however a fan of Cards, and the show’s version of In The Air Tonight. The choreography was strong and I particularly liked the Christmas party tableaux created by various members of the cast.

Bret Easton Ellis says in the programme – ‘I think Patrick Batemans have existed throughout history’. This is probably true, and excessive consumerism has always been a characteristic of the social elite. How else to validate your social worth than with an elaborate sugar sculpture at your feast or a conspicuous excess of candles to light your ballroom?

Perhaps because the elite lifestyle is now so commonplace in everyday life – from television and magazines to the street full of designer stores that I walked down to reach the Almeida itself – I found the satirizing of the yuppie lifestyle in American Psycho a bit clunky. As chef Francis Derby points out in the programme, while in the eighties the fine dining of the characters may have seemed elite, ‘now everyone eats like that’. And it doesn’t seem at all unusual that a man would top up his tan. This consumer culture is ingrained in public consciousness, and large swathes of the population aspire to knock-off versions of elite cuisine and fashion. Elite cuisine and fashion that, despite increasing social inequality, is probably accessible to a wider section of the population than ever before.

In satirizing the yuppie lifestyle American Psycho doesn’t seem to say anything new, but merely points out some fairly obvious tenets about the negative effects of vacuous consumerism and social conformity. And yet, despite my reservations, the show did receive an enthusiastic standing ovation – so maybe I’m missing something. Or perhaps if you’re in Doctor Who you get a standing ovation whatever you do.

Cabaret

I missed Cabaret when it was in the West End, but managed to see it last week as it embarks on a national tour. The musical is a haunting portrayal of the insidious nature of Nazism in 1930s Germany and its effects on ordinary inhabitants. Set largely in cabaret venue the Kit Kat Klub, the clash of tone – from debauched partying to harrowing Nazi attack – is handled sensitively and only serves to emphasise (and perhaps explain) how a party as divisive and dangerous as the Nazis could creep in to power.

There isn’t a weak link in Rufus Norris’ production. Visually, the choreography is stunning – and slickly and enthusiastically performed by the ensemble. The imaginative use of set and set changes are equally slick – impressively so for a touring production. The cast ring the emotion from Kander and Ebb’s music, and the songs are still in my head two days later.

Siobhan Dillon’s Sally Bowles grows in depth as her hard, carefree shell crumbles to reveal a mentally fragile and self-destructive woman struggling against the ‘prophets of doom’ who are threatening to bring her life and the Cabaret crashing down around her. This culminates in a heart-wrenching rendition of Cabaret – Dillon manages to stamp her own mark on this iconic song.

Will Young commands the stage with his astonishing performance as Emcee, veering effortlessly from frivolous jollity to sinister. He has a skill for bringing out the sinister in the overly cheerful, capturing perfectly the atmosphere of Nazi Germany. Tomorrow Belongs to Me is particularly chilling.

This is one of the best musicals I have seen in a long time, and demands your attention right to the last moment, yet its strong themes don’t detract from its entertainment value.

The Pride

The Pride

The Pride, the third production in Jamie Lloyd’s Trafalgar Transformed Season, follows the complex relationship between Philip, Oliver and Sylvia as they live their lives simultaneously in 1958 and the present. Both plot strands are engaging, and it’s interesting to see two takes on a group of characters defined by their time. Yet at times the play seemed somewhat directionless, perhaps because of the jumping narrative. Or maybe this confusion is a reflection of the mental state of many of the characters.

Harry Hadden-Paton gives a brave performance as a closeted gay man constricted by society and his own crippling self-loathing – a stark contrast to his modern counterpart. Both Hayley Atwell and Matthew Horne also give strong performances, yet Al Weaver stands out with his absorbing performance, bringing an appealing vulnerability to a character that could have become grating in less able hands.

The programme has an interesting discussion about ‘gay’ plays, and the categorization of the work of gay playwrights. The parts of The Pride set in the present are perhaps best described as a portrait of a foundering relationship (incidentally a gay one). Yet people like to categorize, and by alternating between the present day and 1958, Alexi Kaye Campbell brings the issue of society’s attitude to homosexuality centre stage. This is emphasised by a tipsily self-righteous monologue by modern-day Sylvia about the casual use of the word ‘gay’ as an insult. It is apt that the play, which examines the social and political persecution of gay men, is being performed against the backdrop of protests at Britain’s participation in the Russian Winter Olympics.

The Pride is an interesting exploration of relationships, and the impact that society has on the choices (and personality) of the individual. It is held together by a strong ensemble cast, and is well worth a look.

The Genius of Michael Grandage

With the Michael Grandage Company’s season at the Noël Coward Theatre, Michael Grandage has come up with an idea so obvious that it’s amazing nobody has done it before.

It’s a shame that it’s how the world works, but marketing a season purely around its headline stars is a sure-fire way to ensure its commercial success. It doesn’t matter what the play is, or how good the production, if it stars Daniel Radcliffe or Jude Law people are going to go. The teenage girls sitting next to me when I saw The Cripple of Inishmaan spent the interval looking at the programme’s opening double-page spread (featuring a line up of all of the season’s stars), stroking Daniel Radcliffe’s face and swooning over Jude Law. Looking down into the stalls it was striking how many programmes were open at this page!

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But crucially, the stars that Grandage has chosen (also including Simon Russel Beale and Judi Dench) have not only commercial appeal but also the talent to give a quality performance. Alongside Grandage lending his name to the company, the reputation of its stars will surely make the season as appealing to theatre buffs as Harry Potter or Jude Law fans. This is backed up by the array of four- and five-star reviews received by the season so far. What could have been a gimmick is instead the foundation for a serious season of quality drama.

By removing any direct reference to each individual play (other than the title) the Grandage season has created coherent and distinctive marketing for a season of unconnected plays. It’s impossible to know what any of the plays are about from the posters, but they are certainly striking. And while I find it a bit depressing that star casting is almost a necessity for any West End play, it’s undeniably beneficial if it makes the staging of more obscure plays viable, and introduces audiences to something new.

King Lear

It feels like summer has started, now that I’ve made my first visit of the year to the Globe to see King Lear (even if it was a bit chilly…).

A couple of years ago, working Front of House at the West Yorkshire Playhouse while at Uni, I wondered how I would cope with seeing their production of King Lear (3 hours and 10 minutes) three times in a fortnight. But the production kept my attention for all nine and a half hours. It featured an amazing cast, led by Tim Piggott-Smith as Lear. James Garnon, as Edmund, had a natural way of conveying Shakespeare that I’ve only seen surpassed by David Tennant. And as Edgar, Sam Crane’s physical and vocal transformation to Poor Tom was astonishing. I also found it a useful undertaking. The first time of watching I had to concentrate on following the plot, while the second and third viewings allowed me to focus more on the performances and appreciation of the language.

It also gave me a good grounding from which to see the Globe’s touring production. The multiple roles taken on by each member of the cast made it slightly hard to follow, and I imagine if I was coming to the play for the first time I would have relied heavily on the synopsis in the programme. Despite this, the production was full of committed and energetic performances, and the actors dealt well with their transitions between characters. They also made the most of minimal props and set, although inevitably the touring production wasn’t as well suited to the space as the Globe’s normal output.

The impact of the play’s tragic finale was somewhat undermined by the customary song and dance at the end of the performance, but the audience certainly enjoyed it and the play received enthusiastic applause. While perhaps not as in-depth as the WYP version, this is a solid and engaging production.

The Low Road

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It is impossible to miss the unwittingly apt timing of Bruce Norris’ play The Low Road, a self-described ‘fable of free-market economics and cut-throat capitalism’, in the week when the death of Thatcher has led to the re-emergence of debates which have not been this prevalent or strongly waged since the years of her premiership.

The play’s themes of individualism and community, genuine and tokenistic charity, greed, materialism and generosity are as relevant today as they were in eighteenth-century America. At the interval, I was left with the feeling that it made a refreshing change to see a new play dealing with modern issues by distancing them to a historical setting – the opposite of the current fashion to make an unnecessary relocation of a historical play to a contemporary setting with the sole purpose of ramming its ‘relevance’ down the audience’s throats.

Then the second half started… and did just that, with a modern interlude as we witnessed a conference Q and A on the financial crisis. I’ll forgive Norris though as this section was one of the funniest in the play and gave the actors involved an opportunity to milk some hilarious caricatures.

The whole cast was excellent, with a brave performance by Johnny Flynn as the unremittingly unlikable protagonist Jim Trumpett. Thatcher would certainly have approved of the enterprising Jim’s ability to pull himself up by his bootstraps and ensure his prosperity, even if this was at the expense of the surrogate family that had taken him in as a baby (and of almost everyone else that has the misfortune to have any dealings with him). The values of capitalism and the free market may seem unpalatable when put bluntly – and screamed at the bewildered members of the religious colony who have just rescued, fed and clothed him – but they are the values that our society is governed by.

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I’ve read comments criticising the play as a cheap shot against capitalism, yet narrated by Adam Smith the play sets out a scenario that could be seen to advocate it. Predictably it is Jim, with his individualistic outlook and championing of cut-throat capitalism, that prospers – and his descendents are seen to live on and thrive. The poor and the disadvantaged who find their home in the New Light of Zion Colony fail to look out for themselves – preferring to help other unfortunates – and they come to a horrible end.

The play, then, merely brings out the viewer’s own opinions of capitalism. If you believe that profit justifies immorality, and that the poor, weak and idle should be left to fend for themselves, you would see vindication of your beliefs in the play’s outcome. It is the sentiment of the typical Royal Court audience that allows this tongue-in-cheek, satirical look at the creation of the capitalist financial system to be a negative one. It is their sensibilities that condemn Jim for his actions, and sympathise with the kind-hearted yet naive members of the Colony. The audience laughs at the financial leaders in the Q and A, but the humour comes from accurate characterisation and the recognition of the well-worn arguments of the privileged and upwardly mobile. And Norris isn’t afraid to bite the hand that feeds him – or at least to give it a quick nip – with more than one jibe aimed at the funding of the subsidised arts.

Jim’s assertion that ‘’tis and ‘twas heedless on your part to care for one [a heavily disabled community member] who could contribute so little to your livelihood’ is certainly true when applied to the Colony’s rescue of Jim, who repays their kindness with disdain, violence and theft. Yet Jim’s arrogance, pig-headedness and total lack of empathy means that he can’t see the irony of this statement in the light of his own recent predicament. It is perhaps the play’s highlighting of the hypocrisy and double-standards of many of the proponents of a free-market economy, and the cruelty that ensues when this is rolled out to include social policy, that has riled those complaining of the play’s left-leaning attitude. That, or feeling alienated when they disagree with the pretty much unanimous reaction of the audience. Dismissing the play because you dislike its politics is a lazy critique – nobody is apolitical and criticism of capitalism is a perfectly valid stance.

The Royal Court is renowned for its challenging and political new works – if you don’t want a play that challenges the status quo you might be better off seeing something less controversial like Wicked or Phantom of the Opera. Or Legally Blonde, a musical where a well-educated, attractive, mega-rich women uses her father’s money to buy her way on to an elite degree course on a whim, and overcomes the apparently disabling disadvantages of wearing pink and owning a Chihuahua to become a successful lawyer. Attorney Emmett Forrest has worked hard for years to lift himself from his humble origins but it is when he befriends the wealthy Elle and she buys him an expensive suit that he really gets taken seriously. The fact that I take exception to some of the assumptions and implied attitudes of Legally Blonde didn’t prevent me from enjoying it, and similarly The Low Road is more than just its ‘political leanings’ (although as I have already argued, they are implied rather than solidly embedded in the text).

Random left-field ending aside (so random that I can’t really elaborate without it being a spoiler), this is a solid thought-provoking period drama with enduring themes – but it’s also thoroughly entertaining.

The problem with audience awards…

On The Culture Show this week Mark Kermode tried to redress the glaring omissions in the Oscar nominations by presenting his own personal awards, the Kermodes, which demonstrated the array of outstanding films that the Academy fails to recognise each year. The Academy Awards may favour certain films, but at least with awards like the Oscars or the Baftas you can hope that not only are the voters fairly knowledgeable about films, they’ve also seen quite a few – and hopefully the ones that they are judging.

Audience awards such as the National Television Awards, and last week’s WhatsOnStage.com Awards, throw up a whole new array of problems. I accept that I can’t complain if these forays into viewer democracy come up with the wrong result. Although I think it’s a travesty that Downton Abbey beat both Sherlock and Doctor Who to Most Popular Drama, or that Colin Morgan (who I do think is a good actor) beat Benedict Cumberbatch and Matt Smith to Most Popular Drama Performance, evidently they are the most popular – at least amongst the demographic that votes for the NTAs. The fact that there are a plethora of awards for programmes that I don’t watch – from daytime TV to soaps – leads me to think that I’m not typical of the average voter. We do need a balance when it comes to awarding recognition; awards voted for by experts are hardly representative of the country’s taste as a whole.

As a regular theatre-goer, I take more of an interest in the WhatsOnStage.com Awards, although again I often disagree with the results – I appreciate that there must be something about Wicked that audiences love, as it’s (to me inexplicably) nearly always ahead of the pack when it comes to audience awards for best musical or West End show. But what annoys me the most about audience awards for theatre is the fact that most voters won’t have seen most of the productions nominated. I go to the theatre more regularly than most, but I’ve seen less than half of the productions nominated. Productions from smaller venues suffer as they struggle to muster enough votes to beat productions that are playing to thousand-strong audiences every night.

Aside from the fact that people haven’t seen most of the productions, the obvious domination of the awards by famous nominees suggests that people really do just vote for what they know. Stephen Fry was excellent in Twelfth Night, and a worthy winner of Best Supporting Actor in a Play, but he didn’t stand so far ahead of his peers that he deserved half of the vote (49.3%) in a strong field. The rest of the nominees’ votes can be marked pretty much according to their fame; from Mark Gatiss (19.7%) to Kyle Soller (5.3%). I can’t judge, because I haven’t seen Long Day’s Journey into Night, but I’m sure Soller would have been an equally worthy winner – and had people known who he was he might have been.

The tendency for audiences to vote for what they know must surely have played a role in deciding the recipient of Best New Musical – how else would Loserville have secured nearly a quarter of the vote, only slightly behind Top Hat and The Bodyguard. And again, I’m sure Sweet Smell of Success and Soho Cinders were hampered by their small venues.

Having said all this, I do think audience awards should have a place alongside traditional awards – and I don’t have any answers on how to solve their problems. They’re inherent to democracy, and replicated in all its forms, right up to Parliamentary elections. This year there was one benefit to the susceptibility of audience to be led by external forces. Presumably thanks to its celluloid reincarnation, Les Mis beat Wicked to win Best West End Show with over a quarter of the vote. But maybe Wicked’s star is just on the wane – it was beaten down into third place by the excellent Matilda the Musical.