In one of Charles Isherwood’s Facebook’s postings, he recommended ‘The Girls’ as the one show to see if you ever found yourself on West End, and I remember liking their performance at The Oliviers early this year. So when I was at the TKTS booth in Leicester Square, I asked the very knowledgeable clerk there what she thought of the production. I told her that it was either this or the new London production of ’42nd Street with Sheena Easton. (My baby takes the morning train) She told me ‘The Girls’ s an original London musical and is not playing anywhere else. She made sense, and went ahead and purchased tickets.
Meh. I wanted to like it much more than I did. This material comes from successful film version (which I loved) and it also had a straight play version, which I didn’t see. I mean, I imagined the musical to be somewhat of a Golden Girls kind of comedy. But seriously it had quite a few golden moments. This incarnation of the material focuses more on the back stories of these women before posing nude for the calendar. The first act was so generic I was beginning to think I wasted my time picking this show – though I did like ‘Yorkshire,’ the opening choral number. I wanted to like the score, written by Gary Barlow with Tim Firth. Half of it was appealing but really, the whole show sounds like one whole song, and I though some numbers were useless and was done so each character gets a solo. Things pick up on the scenes where they photograph their calendar entries, but they were close to losing me halfway through the show.