I am, by now, accustomed to embarrassed faces. At the Speech Contest in Stockport this year and most days in Bradshaw canteen, I’ve heard the same words: “So sorry! I thought you were a student!” Ergo, I don’t look old enough to remember the 80’s. Much to people’s disbelief, I actually do remember them. Lovingly. Think back to a time when you woke up with Lizzie Webb and went to bed with Moira Stewart. A time when the Prime Minister’s meringue-stiff hair never budged in high Soviet winds and George Michael and Princess Di sported the same barnet. (Google Image this one. It’s true.) A time when we were pulling down walls, banning bombs and trying to ‘feed the world’. A time when we called confectionary by its correct name. (Starburst, my eye! They’re Opal Fruits) However, laughable leggings aside, in the year that saw Jade Goody die as she had lived in the glare of the hawkish paparazzi, this year’s school production Fame certainly makes us aware of the pitfalls of pursuing the precious status of ‘celebrity.’
The musical is the conception of David De Silva, whose obsession with New York High School for Performing Arts in 1984 forms the basis of the plot. Fame follows the lives of Manhattan’s multi-ethnic, multi-cultural minipops in their quest for stardom. Following the Holy Trinity of Performing Arts (Acting, Dancing, Music), they encounter a gauntlet of expectations whilst battling with adolescence and their ever-growing egos. Such a youthful play demands a youthful director. Enter Phillippa O’ Shea, who brought the production to life. Newly appointed this year, she admitted her main reason for choosing this play – “I wanted to relive my childhood”, she said. “Plus, the issues are hard-hitting. Having fame is one thing, but the only realist in terms of character is Miss Sherman. She knows you need a good, solid education behind you.” (Unless you’re Cheryl Cole, of course). Kerry Newton, combined with Alice and Hannah Gorst, had the demanding role of choreographing. “The show is a fusion of ballet, modern jazz, Latin American”, Kerry explained, “and the kids have handled it well. I’ve seen such graceful dancing in rehearsals.” Add the dynamic duo of Wightman and Bramhall (is there ANYTHING he can’t play on a keyboard?), their band of merry musicians, a dedicated backstage crew, and a cast bursting with energy, and the end product is the stuff of brilliance.
We open with a solitary voice as Nick (the incredibly brave and charismatic Alex Longshaw) wanders onto the empty stage. As one by one the entire ensemble joined him, Bradshaw Hall was filled with wall to wall harmonies, a lovely spine-tingling moment. Indeed, there was barely a music-free moment in the show and from the cast favourite ‘There She Goes’ to the sassy gospel number ‘Mabel’s Prayer’ (Hats off to Hannah Gorst and Co!) to the bolshy duet ‘Teacher’s Argument’, there was something to please every musical pallet. What staggered me was the light work the students made of such taxing musical content. Tom Outteridge as Schlomo sang his socks off (and I give him particular credit for playing a more modest role with such poignancy), Megan Murray as Serena gave her usual amazing vocal proficiency, especially in ‘Think of Meryl Streep’, and as for Georgia Babrahani? One word: Wow! If a singer can be this accomplished at twelve, can you imagine what she’ll be like in ten years time?
The show itself was a veritable feast of visuals. As Miss Bell (played superbly by Becki Bowe) illustrates, looking the part is as important as acting the part. ‘Tights, leotards and legwarmers!” she decrees, and there were enough fluorescent fashions to make Whitney Houston green with envy. There were pirouettes to pop grooves and feet were kept incredibly busy. After two hours of watching the dancing, replete with spins, kicks, breaks and high splits, I felt positively arthritic. ‘Hard work’ indeed! Plus, the show had attitude. The singing from all was terrific, especially with the fullness in range that the tracks demanded. More than anything, I heard the voice of the younger generation loud and clear. From Jonathan Zakian’s angry rap as tempestuous Tyrone, to Joe (Daniel Timblin) singing the anthem of every hormone-crazed adolescent ‘Can’t Keep It Down’, feelings were kept on the surface. I was also reminded of the sadness of young people, their present media demonisation never felt more acutely than in lines like “What’s wrong with acting like adolescents? That’s exactly what we are!” Indeed, Fame teaches us that youth is fleeting.
It fell to leading lady Georgia Bartosz to make such a point through the hedonistic central character of Carmen Diaz, a girl so entrenched in her lust for fame and fortune, it eventually kills her. Bartosz, an experienced dancer, singer and actress, fit the role like a glove. With trademark explosive hair, slick dancing and stunning vocals, she was truly entrancing to watch. Her touching would-be love affair with Schlomo (Outteridge) combined with her genuine love affair with drugs made her demise all the sadder. The finale returned the play to optimism as the cast belted out the title track, with Diaz pledging to ‘live forever’ and the tireless cast singing and dancing behind.
And though we know the characters won’t ‘live forever’, nor ‘learn how to fly’, we, the privileged audience will definitely “remember”.
Miss J. Nichols
