The SpeigelGardens on a Saturday night feel like the last days of Rome, with boozed-up football fans representing the Barbarians at the gates. There is a wild atmosphere of anything being possible, so long as it’s awful.
Offering a different sense of possibility is the wonderful C’est Magnifique, taking place in the gorgeously proportioned tent of the WundaBarn – though we all need to squeeze along the benches tonight, as word-of-mouth has made this love letter to classic cabaret a must-see, sold-out smash.
For those trying to get into the Gardens for shows, rather than just to get smashed, a separate entrance would be extremely welcome, though at least security are on hand to wave ticket-holders past the vast queue of wild-eyed Bacchanalia-hunters.
Entering the tent feels like being transported to a different world, as anxiety and the drab realities of the outside world recede as these beautiful musical performers, in fabulous outfits and already on stage and in position, welcome you into their universe.
Advertised as an imagined cabaret show in 1930s Paris or Berlin, C’est Magnifique delivers with bucket-loads of beautiful singing, perfect harmonies, gorgeous dance routines, high-kicks, tap-dancing – you name it, if it’s from the golden age of musical theatre, they do it, and then some.
Our master of ceremonies is the wonderful Cyril, as played by Conor Baum, who introduces us to our cast of brilliant characters and live, on-stage musicians. His is a gorgeously confident saucy, twinkly presence. These are performers fully inhabiting their personas, who have been performing alongside each other long enough that the bitching – between Cyril and Emma Edwards’ grand dame, Zelda, in particular – is joyously sharp, and from a place of collective love.
Of these distinct, beautiful six, your correspondent was particularly blown away by Zelda, armed with a voice that could launch a thousand ships on a tidal wave, and almost did, during one perfectly-chosen tribute to Shirley Bassey.
Talking of ships, a special mention to Gaylord the sailor, whose search for love involves audience participation and a lot of seamen. Brilliantly played by Nathan Potter, he’s the clown of the trouple, the poor, downtrodden stooge – who also deservedly gets the biggest laughs of the entire show.
Just like in 1930s Berlin, we’re in dark times in the UK; this space is presented as an oasis of safety. Cyril repeatedly and pointedly welcomes all of us, ladies and gentlemen, gays and theys. Outside this tent, trans people in particular are being increasingly vilified by our establishment press and political elites; in here, we are whoever we want to be.
There is the odd whoopsie. Zelda’s pearls scatter across the stage, causing an unfortunate trip hazard; an umbrella refuses to open, a few lines go awry.
And there is no narrative to speak of, which is a slight shame. These are wonderful characters, and I’d love to see their lives, loves, and dreams explored more thoroughly.
Overall, though, this is a spectacular, beautiful love-letter to the transcendental power of live musical theatre. And as Cyril puts it at the end:
“If you enjoyed it, we’ve been C’est Manifique. If you didn’t enjoy it, we’ve been Reform UK.”
Review on 9th May.
