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 ZENOBIA FROST reviews FAME: THE MUSICAL, direct from Melbourne on a national tour.
I took my seat in the theatre really wanting to love FAME: The Musical, based on the much-loved film and TV show. Perhaps I went in expecting an ‘80s revision of Grease – as good-natured and as funny. What I got, unfortunately, was a couple of hours of general discomfort throughout this, the original high school musical.
Don’t get me wrong – the cast was great and the production about as high-energy as it gets. Timomatic (as Tyrone) and Talia Fowler (Iris) – both familiar names to fans of So You Think You Can Dance – are undoubtedly talented; Kylie Fisher (as Grace) wins enthusiastic applause for her drum solo; Jaz Flowers shines as the spunky food-lover Mabel; and the teachers of New York City’s High School of Performing Arts deliver their witty observations right on time. Kelley Abbey’s choreography is a crowd-pleasing showcase of Australian dancing talent, though it might sometimes be at the expense of the other disciplines taught at the High School of Performing Arts: acting, music, and English.
You see, the problem is not the folks on stage, who perform with real fervour. FAME’s script and score are getting dated – not helped along by a half-hearted digital backdrop that might have been cool in 1984. The lyrics are lifeless and the tunes are the kind of earworms that quickly grow tiresome. Dialogue is all but filler between song and dance routines, and never really rings true. Each character is a stereotype of a stereotype; only the teachers show any sort of depth. Add to this that we couldn’t hear any cast member over the music for the first half of the play and you’ve got an audience who feel like they ought to be having fun, but just aren’t sure how.
Maybe picking the matinee was a bad move. The audience I joined was largely comprised of under-12s and their worried parents. I may be a fan of burlesque and risqué cabaret, but even I felt uncomfortable during Joe Vegas’ (played by Sam Ludeman) over-ambitious ode to erections (forgive the pun). Though this ditty was from the original score, there was definitely a directorial choice to sex up the show; many of the shenanigans – apparently meant to be physical comedy – that the boys get up to would be classed as sexual harassment in the real world. In the end FAME becomes a mess of thrusting motions, fat jokes, gay jokes, and girls falling for guys who have testosterone porridge for brains.
I saw a local high school production of the very same show a few years back, and as far as I recall it was a joyous musical with heart. I’m not certain what changed. But I do know that we come to stories about young people hoping to find ourselves – whether present or past – reflected in the characters. But be prepared: no matter how well the dancers dance, FAME’s script only offers us a line-up of paper dolls in leg warmers.
FAME, directed and choreographed by KELLEY ABBEY, runs at the Lyric Theatre, QPAC, until Aug. 1. Ph: 136 246 / www.qpac.com.au
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