The Choir of Man – Grand Theatre, Wolverhampton

Reviewer: Tim Harding

Creators: Nic Doodson and Andrew Kay

Director:  Nic Doodson

There are some shows that tell a story, and there are others that simply invite you to spend time in a world you never want to leave. The Choir of Man, which arrives at Wolverhampton Grand Theatre as part of its extensive UK tour, falls firmly into the latter category. Returning with its trademark blend of pub culture, powerhouse vocals and heartfelt celebration of friendship, this Olivier Award-nominated production delivers an uplifting evening of entertainment that leaves audiences smiling long after the final encore.

Set inside “The Jungle”, a lovingly recreated British pub, the production immediately establishes an atmosphere of warmth and welcome. Before the show even begins, audience members are encouraged to soak up the convivial surroundings, quite literally joining the cast on stage and being served pints at the fully functioning bar.  Oli Townsend’s detailed set design remains one of the show’s greatest strengths, transforming the stage into a believable local that feels lived in, cherished and full of stories.

Unlike a traditional musical, The Choir of Man operates without a conventional narrative. Instead, it introduces us to nine pub regulars, each representing a familiar archetype: The Poet, The Romantic, The Hard Man, The Joker, The Maestro and others. Through a series of musical performances, spoken-word reflections and moments of interaction, we gradually discover the qualities that define them and the bonds that hold them together.

At the centre of the production is Oluwalonimi (Nimi) Owoyemi’s captivating Poet, who serves as both narrator and emotional compass, while also demonstrating an effortless charm in his regular ad-libs and fourth-wall-breaking interactions with the audience. These spoken-word passages, written by Ben Norris, provide many of the show’s most thoughtful moments, exploring themes of friendship, loneliness and belonging. The interludes help to ground the evening, providing a welcome counterbalance to the show’s more boisterous sequences.

Musically, the production is spellbinding. The blend of the nine voices is showcased through Jack Blume’s fabulous vocal arrangements, while the performers demonstrate remarkable musicianship across a range of styles, from Queen and Adele to Paul Simon and Rupert Holmes’ Escape (The Piña Colada Song). The a cappella reimagining of Sia’s Chandelier is quite breathtaking.  Coupled with this is the excellent musicianship of the cast, in particular Rob Godfrey’s Beast (guitar) and Gustave Melbardis’ Maestro (piano), who drive much of the show with their accompaniment and showmanship.  Add to this banjo, ukulele, cajón, bodhrán, accordion and even melodica being played at various times by other members of the cast and you have a heaving mass of musical energy on stage supporting the vibrant vocals.  The addition of Jack Skelton’s dynamic tap dancing to create the famous snare drum rhythm in 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover is inspired, while he simultaneously conveys the song’s emotional narrative with impressive poise.

This routine is designed by Freddie Huddleston, whose choreography adds so much to the character of the evening. From energetic ensemble numbers to the production’s now-famous cup percussion routine, the movement is consistently inventive and executed with impressive precision. The cup sequence in particular remains a highlight, showcasing the cast’s extraordinary coordination and timing while generating some of the loudest cheers of the evening.

The rest of the cast are equally impressive in both vocals and characterisation and deserve mention: the soulful Aaron Pottenger, the sweet-voiced Sam Walter, the manic Ben Mabberley, the sullenly entertaining Jared Leathwood (at this performance), and the powerhouse vocalist Joshua Lloyd.   

Visually, the show is equally accomplished. Richard Dinnen’s lighting design shifts effortlessly between the cosy intimacy of a neighbourhood pub and the excitement of a concert arena. Combined with the dynamic staging and live music, it creates a production that feels constantly alive and energised.

If the show has a weakness, it lies in its structure. The absence of a clear narrative means that, particularly during parts of the first half, the evening can occasionally feel more like a concert than a piece of musical theatre. Some audience members may find themselves longing for deeper character development or a stronger dramatic through-line. While the second half introduces more personal and reflective moments, these insights arrive rather late and leave one wishing that the emotional depth had been explored earlier. As a result, there are occasional stretches where admiration for the performers outweighs emotional investment in their stories.

Nevertheless, these are relatively minor reservations within an overwhelmingly enjoyable production. What The Choir of Man lacks in plot, it more than compensates for with heart, talent and authenticity. Its exploration of modern friendship and community feels particularly relevant, celebrating the importance of spaces where people can gather, connect and support one another.

By the time the company brings the audience into its joyous finale, any initial concerns about structure have largely faded away. What remains is a genuine sense of togetherness and a renewed appreciation for the simple power of live performance.

The Choir of Man may not reinvent musical theatre, but it knows exactly what it wants to be: a feel-good celebration of music, friendship and human connection. At Wolverhampton Grand, it succeeds magnificently, offering two hours of infectious energy, outstanding musicianship and heartfelt charm.

Runs until 24 October 2026 and on tour