Music: Cy Coleman
Lyrics: Michael Stewart
Book: Mark Bramble
Director: Jonathan O’Boyle
When it comes to a musical version of the life of Phineas Taylor Barnum, there is an elephant in the room – and we’re not talking about the large puppet that makes a brief appearance in this tour of the Watermill Theatre Newbury’s actor-musician version of the 1980 musical Barnum. No, since 2017 the spectre at this particular feast has been the musical movie The Greatest Showman, a film that covers much the same content with songs by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul and which is due to have a West End adaptation in 2027.
Both musicals take the life of showman P. T. Barnum and weave a heavily fictionalised version of his life, with an emphasis on circus skills and dance. Cy Coleman’s musical, which starred Michael Crawford in its 1981 London debut, is renowned for the character performing a live tightrope walk across the stage. In this production, Matt Rawle performs the same act in his titular role – but like many elements of this oddly insipid production, it feels anticlimactic.
Coleman’s songs have their catchy moments, but while the retro Vaudevillian stylings fit the atmosphere of a 19th-century circus impresario, they do need an extra element of sparkle to shine for a 21st-century audience. Such moments are few and far between, even with cavalcades of acrobats and aerial artistes enlivening proceedings. Much of the spectacle seems designed to distract attention away from the musical numbers, few of which stick in the memory. The greatest exception is Act II opener Come Follow the Band, the closest the show comes to genuine circus spectacle, closely followed by tremendous aerial work as Penny Ashmore’s Jenny Lind sings Love Makes Such Fools of Us All in Act I.
The general impression is that the show probably worked much better on the smaller stage of its original staging in Newbury. While the 21-strong cast fills the New Wimbledon’s stage in a two-storey set, the cavernous auditorium adds a distance between performers and audience that even the normally ebullient Rawle struggles to overcome. This is especially noticeable between songs, as director Jonathan O’Boyle struggles to find any impetus in Mark Bramble’s book. Rawle and Monique Young (as Barnum’s wife Charity) gamely push through to give us an impression of a marriage built on love but riddled with marital frustrations, but otherwise we learn very little about Barnum the man.
That’s especially evident when, in the latter half of the second act, Bramble’s biographical tale starts to pull us away from circus spectacle and into Barnum’s political career. Away from the theatrics, there is little to hold interest, and anyone seeking to understand what Barnum actually stood for will be left wanting.
Instead, we are invited to marvel at America’s showman, a man who prioritised “humbug” – deceptive practices, such as his sideshow presentations of “real mermaids” or a 160-year-old woman – on the basis that he was just giving the public what they wanted. That level of flimflammery is fine if paired with signs of depth and humanity, but Barnum never quite delivers.
A recurrent theme is made of the show’s opening number, based on Barnum’s notorious saying that there’s a sucker born every minute. If people are hoping for a deeper exploration of the greatest showman, it’s Pasek and Paul’s work that is more likely to deliver. Those of us watching Coleman’s attempt and hoping for fulfilling enjoyment are, in Barnum’s own description, suckers.
Runs until 3 October 2026 and continues to tour
