Lovestruck, Stratford East, stage review: ‘Cheese on toast’
Jessica Boshier as Lucy. Photograph: Mark Senior
Britain is an undeniably childish nation, an odd blend of self-aggrandisement, self-abasement and toilet humour.
That brings me to Lovestruck, currently enjoying a run at Stratford East and the second loo-based musical I have reviewed in the space of a year, believe it or not.
Let’s dive straight into the murky waters of the poo-sical. Hey now! Maybe that’s a bit of a reductive way to describe this creative endeavour, but ultimately it all hinges on a viral and utterly chagrin-making story.
In 2017, a man and a woman went on a first date. Sparks may or may not have flown but, due to a faulty flush and a double window, the night ended in embarrassment, media coverage and an urban legend.
Although we will never know if the real-life story ended happily, a musical was always bound to step-ball-change its way in, wasn’t it?
But who would take on this most hallowed task? How about the co-creators of another viral and similarly shame-flecked podcast, My Dad Wrote a Porno (MDWAP).
Jamie Morton (the son of the erotic novelist whose work is dissected in the aforementioned pod) directs, while James Cooper, another member of MDWAP, brings his script-writing prowess from the world of TV (Eating with my Ex and others).
Bryn Christopher injects some poppy knowhow from his days penning hits for the likes of The Saturdays and Alexander Burke, and there are extra music and lyrics from Martin Batchelar, who also worked on MDWAP.
Is this a complex deconstruction of self, society and social media? Well, it does try to be, at points, and that’s not to its favour.
But there are many places in which it bruises the ribs with schoolyard giggles and imaginative insight.
The surreal sections, such as the whole character of Miseraie (played by Bridgette Amofah), who is lead character Lucy’s inner physicalised self-hatred. Oh what a scene-stealer she is!
Amofah flips her ample hair, struts around in a range of feather-ringed costumes, deriding our lead, riffing, belting, fanning her nails, a truly deadly hun. She snappily embodies everyone’s sometimes unkind inner monologue.
Bridgette Amofah shines as Miseraie. Photograph: Mark Senior
Overall, the performers tasked with bringing this tale of awkwardness and British plumbing to life do so with great zeal.
Ambra Caserotti is covering for Jessica Boshier as Lucy, and she really steps up.
Shane O’Riordan is our dorky and sweet Peter, the second lead role, and he shows fantastic musical chops.
Even Gavin and Stacey’s Alison Steadman gets in on the action (albeit from a distance) as the sassy prerecorded narrator.
Purple and pinks are everywhere you look on the set. I mean, there is a giant heart made of windows on the back wall, in a romcom about getting stuck in a window.
But then, does it really need to be any more layered?
The songs are catchy in a mid-level pop sort of way, the choruses injecting pockets of humour along with furious dancing.
Everything rolls along quite nicely, especially in the first act. It’s cheese on toast, but who doesn’t like cheese on toast?
The issue with many American (and now English) comedies is that the creators feel they need to strain a message out (sorry that one was a little graphic).
Moments of everyday reality, like Lucy doom-scrolling through other people’s perfect Instagram lives, are poignant.
However, the second act becomes so embroiled in “connection” that much of the comedy flies straight out of the window (too easy I know).
When Lovestuck isn’t busy clumsily philosophising about modern singletons, it is silly, a little salacious and saccharine.
The reality TV of the theatre world, perhaps? There are worse things.
Lovestruck runs until 12 July at Stratford East.