Thank You For Not Injecting Guest Review by Doctor Terror
Trainspotting - The Musical (Theatre Royal, Haymarket)
I saw this show on the night that England were knocked out in the semi-finals of a major football tournament on a hot, sweaty summer's day. Just like in 1996, in fact, the year that Irvine Welsh's iconic novel was made into an equally iconic film.
I actually met Welsh later that year at the loaded magazine q & a in Madame JoJo's in Soho and subsequently an the gatecrashed after-party at The Aquarium nightclub in Shoreditch (neither exist anymore), famous for having a big swimming pool in the middle of it - health and safety having not yet caught on. I asked him to reveal his favourite pub in Edinburgh's Leith Walk and our tastes coincided perfectly.
I have long forgotten the name of that pub (which is almost certainly gone too) but it was recreated in every detail on the stage of this faithful, funny and affecting adaptation of the book and the film. As in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest at the Old Vic, this reveals the significance of its title, which the film didn't do in either case.
The casting is magnificent with some standout performances. Lewis Kidd's Mark 'Rentboy' Renton is compelling but Kieran Andrew as Spud, making his West End debut, is absolutely hypnotic, his wobbly body continually gyrating like a slightly runny jelly. Ewen Bremner did this in the film a bit, but Andrew embraces it to the extent that you can't take your eyes off him - he's like the lovechild of Dickie Henderson doing his drunk act and rubber boy Monkey D Luffy of Once Piece.
Trainspotting might not sound like obvious source material to turn into a musical, but neither was Only Fools and Horses, the last show I saw at this venue. The great thing is that the characters on stage seem aware of this and when Renton first sings to Spud and Spud finds himself singing back, they look pleadingly at the audience, overwhelmed by the absurdity of the situation.
The human drama is more fully realised and more movingly rendered than in the film, key examples being the death of Alison's baby and previously clean-living Tommy's (Finlay Paul's, another tour de force) slow death through a combination of the effects of heroin and AIDS. In fact, it renders the first act's closing song, Lou Reed's Perfect Day, more blackly ironic than ever. Perfect Day joins Lust for Life and Mad World as already familiar numbers, the rest being original songs by a Welsh and Stephen McGuinness.
This is a wonderful show. When I tell you it even donates a bit of humanity to Frankie O'Connor's Begbie, I'm sure you'll agree.