Hayes Theatre, April 1
9.5/10
Who’d have thought that laughing at Nazis would suddenly become so pertinent again? Mel Brooks’ original film was made in 1967, when you could have fought in World War II, and still be in your 40s. Fifty-eight years later, the same blister still needs pricking, and The Producers still does it best, whether the original movie, the resultant musical, the film of the musical, or ongoing revivals like this dazzling production directed by Julia Roberton.
Who’d have thought a huge centrepiece like Springtime for Hitler could be performed by a cast of just 14? Or that this cast of 14 could execute such scintillating choreography on the Hayes Theatre’s baby stage (already housing an eight-piece band), without either bumping each other or spilling over into neighbouring countries?
This is among the most polished pieces of musical theatre I’ve seen. The level of detail in each line, voice, gesture, costume, dance move, orchestration and design element is exhilarating. You could simply sit there and admire it all in terms of aesthetics and craft – except you’re laughing too hard.
“The urge to merge can rob us of our senses,” sings Bloom, and in humour terms, it’s the show that keeps on giving, however often you see it. Brooks wasn’t just a funny guy, he wrote roles for actors to relish, and Robertson has cast this so well you’d think she had a limitless budget and millions queuing to audition.
Anton Berezin has played in a swag of musicals, all prepping him for being given Max Bialystock, the Broadway producer who, having left his moral compass in a cab, resorts to fleecing little old ladies who are short of sex and long on lolly. Berezin plays Max as though all the world’s chutzpah has been confiscated, and he alone had the key to where it’s stored.
For Bialystock’s foil, Brooks gleefully borrowed the protagonist’s name from James Joyce’s Ulysses (plus sly references to that work) to create his male ingenue, Leo Bloom. Des Flanagan plays Bloom with more innocence than a two-year-old pretending he hasn’t just wet his pants – until it dawns on him exactly that the delicious Ulla is offering more than a life-long innuendo, and Alexandra Cashmere is a fabulous Ulla.
Jordan Shea is consistently hilarious as Franz, the Hitler-loving writer and pigeon-fancier, and Blake Erickson arrives in a blaze of gowned glory as Roger de Bris, the director who’s supposed to be so bad that Max’s show is guaranteed to fail. Each ensemble member fashions every role into a fully-fledged character, and they perform Shannon Burns’ choreography as if their mothers were being held hostage. Osibi Akerejola has the band similarly honed, and Nick Fry’s set, Ryan McDonald’s lighting and especially Benedict Janeczko-Taylor costumes ice a cake so near-perfectly baked that even the neo-Nazi’s might swallow it.
With the Hayes season sold out, they’ll need to invade Riverside Theatres, May 15-18.