Site last updated on 

November 03, 2009

Disco Inferno- WAMDS review

With the current popularity of shows built round the hits of pop groups (Mamma Mia, We Will Rock You, Our House), which capitalise on nostalgia for the 70’s and 80’s, it was canny of Whitworth AMDS to choose “Disco Inferno” for their spring spectacular. Although I was at the first night, when the audience wasn’t a capacity one, it was clear from its readiness to sing along and clap to the boogie rhythms and wildly applaud and whoop at the numbers that, even on a Monday night, Whitworth was ready to squeeze itself into its loon-pants and do some serious grooving.

The story line onto which a succession of 70’s club-hits were pegged was a thin version of “Faust”, with Jack, normally sweeping up at the local disco, being catapulted to national celebrity as a David Cassidy-type singer. In return for this questionable leapfrogging of the “X-Factor” process, the clean-cut lad-next-door signs away his soul to the Devil’s emissary, Lady Marmalade (maybe it should be thick-cut rather than clean-cut). Fame and fortune alienate him from his faithful girlfriend, Jane, as he’s vamped by the seductive Kathy, former squeeze of his club rival, Heathcliffe. Jack’s brought to his senses by the death in a car smash of his mate, Tom (surely more an early 60’s John Leyton-style twist). But, hell, it’s all only a Dallas-inspired dream anyway, since Jack’s actually dozed off over his broom and Lady Marmalade sashays off to groom the arrogant Heathcliffe instead.

To be honest, the plot serves mainly to regularly throw up disco numbers, resolving itself into duets and company break-outs reminiscent of “Fame”. Certainly the most exhilarating sequences were when the whole cast poured onto the stage to gyrate to, say, “Boogie Wonderland” or the title number. Great stylised Tony Manero-type moves (lovely retro choreography from Shayon Bali, Julie Milligan and Gill Willman) in dizzyingly colourful gear, all driven by a powerful, brass dominated band, The Fallen Angels, forming a heavenly combo on their elevated platform. The band was a major asset; it confidently thundered out the disco beat and then banked down the sound for the more sensitively backed solos and duets.

The mass numbers kicked off within the first few minutes, running the whole gamut of dance moves, pulling a terrific pyrotechnic display of synchronised shapes. Everything seemed to be centred on the maypole of Aeron Levi, a front-row dancer who dominated these routines with a fluent, grinning skill. But the boogying was so well harmonised, the whole company, from teenagers to old trouper deserved accolades, not just those who were virtually professionals. Even if I’d been forced to leave after the first ensemble number, I’d have felt to have got value for money, so infectious and buoyant was this kaleidoscopic recreation of the spirit of ’76. Thankfully, these big dance-offs punctuated the show and they gladdened the heart each time.

There has to be a big shout-out for the redoubtable Adam Brown, the holding-centre, both acting-wise and with his sensational vocals, and he was well partnered by Alison Knowles, again with a clear, confident voice, though the role of Jane was a bit limited, compared with her triumphant Nancy in “Oliver”. Especially loved Harriet Williams, as Tom’s girlfriend, Mags, in her rendition of that imperishable classic” I Love To Love (But My Baby Just Loves To Dance)”; her sudden elevation from incidental character to Disco Diva was a surprise delight and he vocals were spot-on. The raunchy version of “Fire” stood out as well, though strictly speaking, it’s more 60’s psychedelia than discomania. On the same level, “Hot Stuff”, the old Donna Summer hit, featured some heroic bumps and grinds from a sassy company of hoofers. Plenty of Elton John, Village People and Abba kept the camp quota high, and some rarities popped up, such as Brotherhood of Man’s “Figaro”, in a somewhat sedate interlude with hoops.

Some fine comic playing between the songs, notably from Terry Banham as Jack’s mate, Tom, forever pining for a kiss from his intimidating girlfriend. Some of his facial expressions were a treat; his embarrassment and unease at being trapped in a room where Jack and Jane are having a row was a masterclass of understated comedy acting. His lead vocal in “Kissing In The Back Row Of The Movies” proved him no slouch at putting over a song either. Damien Kavanagh enjoyed himself hugely as the club’s owner, with his 50’s D.A haircut and tight spangly jacket; he was the spit of Oliver Reed in the film of “Tommy”. Alison Starrs impressed as the slinky Lady Marmalade, an elegant devil’s-handmaiden whose amazing cleavage went on for miles. A rare outing on that side of the footlights for Ian Crabtree as the flamboyant impresario Nick Diablo bought back memories of Viv Stanshell, as he chanted his way through “Pop Music” backed by a company of well-set-up lasses. Darren Fricker, in the mainly thankless role of the sneery Heathcliffe, delivered a blazing version of “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting”, a late and unexpected spur to the proceedings.

Some of the transitional scenes and the ultimate working out of the plot could have been a lot sharper, and the pace did sometimes drop. But, as a whole, the company effort and the star turns, under Andy Kelly’s expert direction, combined to produce some of the slickest dancing, most irresistible numbers and lavish, freewheeling entertainment ever seen at WAMDS. An instant boogie pick-me-up.