Many people aren’t aware that there’s more than one musical adaptation of Gaston Leroux’s novel The Phantom of the Opera. Maury Yeston and Arthur Kopit’s musical Phantom was composed and raising funds before Andrew Lloyd Webber’s, but shelved after Phantom of the Opera became a huge success. Dawn Kalani Cowle’s production at Ye Olde Rose and Crown marks the UK premiere of Phantom, and with a bigger budget behind it, could give Lloyd Webber a run for his money.

Neither version is extremely faithful to the book, although Yeston and Kopit’s adaptation is the only one to hold the rights to it. So if you’re familiar with either popular versions, Phantom still won’t be everything you expect. Christine (Kira Morsley) is essentially a busker who is recommended to the Opera House for lessons when influential patron Phillippe (Sean Paul Jenkinson) hears her sing. Unfortunately, his friend Carriere (Tom Murphy), the manager of the Opera House, has been sacked, and the new proprietors Carlotta (Pippa Winslow) and Cholet (Andrew Rivera) place Christine in the costume department where the Phantom (Kieran Brown) hears her sing and offers her lessons as a masked maestro. By the time she comes to audition for the company, they can’t deny her talent but Carlotta poisons her drink on opening night so that Christine can’t sing. The Phantom rescues her from the stage, taking her down to his lair where Carriere tries to warn her he’s dangerous, however she is determined that she sees good in him. Until she sees his face.

The plot begins strongly, playing for laughs in the beginning and tears in the ending at the expense of focus. Although I’ll admit that I shed a few tears, this was more for Christine and the Phantom’s fleeting love story, over the well-acted but arduously written scene between father and son, the Phantom and Carriere. Other than the leads, the characters remain sketchily drawn as plot devices or caricatures which are likeable but mean that the storyline lacks integrity. Furthermore, the Phantom’s ‘underlings’ are strange characters that have stepped right out of an amateur show. Excusing this, Phantom is a show that’s carried by a stupendous ensemble.

It might be unfair to compare Phantom to The Phantom of the Opera, or perhaps just plain inevitable, but it really does help to reflect upon the few problems with Yeston’s score that keep it from being quite so popular. Yeston, who has also composed musicals including Nine, Grand Hotel and Titanic, weaves magic with his choral harmonies. The music is the absolute star of this piece, with swirling and intricate melody lines; it’s a challenge to sing and couldn’t be done better. Kieran Brown as the Phantom and Kira Morsley as Christine are absolutely mindblowing talents; Brown has an emotive and commanding voice, that can turn from burdened to biting in a bipolar instant, and Morsley couldn’t sound sweeter if she were an actual songbird. Each song stands alone, but therein lies the problem: where Lloyd Webber reuses material like he’s run out of ideas, the running motifs through his version of Phantom are what make the music memorable, whereas you don’t come out humming along to Yeston’s score.

All Star Productions needs to be forgiven a little for the limitations placed upon them by the small space and presumably small budget. The staging is minimal and best when Cowle embraces simplicity rather than lugging cheap bits of set on and off. Brendan Matthew’s choreography has moments of brilliance, but has a fancy for symmetry which looks a little basic. Altogether however, this is a quick and simplistic production which is effective because the performances are so heartfelt. Everything surrounding it should make it hard to believe in the production, but the cast and music make it impossible not to invest and that matters more than anything else. Phantom is so good it actually hurts.

Phantom is playing at Ye Olde Rose and Crown until 31 May. For more information and tickets, see the All Star Productions website.

What do you get when you combine drunk dialling, beer goggles and some killer dance moves, with all the usual embarrassments and indiscretions of a house party? New musical Part A of course, storming its way into the Roundhouse this weekend as part of the Accidental Festival. Co-writers Freya Smith and Jack Williams tell AYT’s Laura Turner about being inspired by a night of sobriety at a drunken party, and how they armed themselves with just a guitar on their quest to address the need they saw for new voices in musical theatre.

Tell us a bit about Part A.

Smith: Part A is a musical which documents funny and awkward situations unfolding at a house party. Each song focuses on a single moment, whether it be a doe-eyed drunk dialler leaving an embarrassing voicemail on her ex’s phone, or a trio of chauvinists celebrating the power of beer goggles (and lamenting it the next morning). The show features a cast of six, who are accompanied by a band of four, on piano, guitar, bass and cajon. It was written by me and Jack, not long after we completed our degrees in 2011.

This particular performance is taking place as part of the Accidental Festival, which is organised by students at Central School of Speech and Drama, and aims to give emerging artists a platform to perform.

What’s your background in the industry?

Williams: We’re currently spending our time in the background of the industry.

Smith: We’re just two kids with a guitar, a pocketful of dreams and a worn out copy of Abba’s Greatest Hits, hoping to give Andrew Lloyd Webber a bloody good run for his money. But, to answer the question properly: before composing, we performed, mainly at university. I was involved in musicals and a cappella, and Jack was part of an improvised musical comedy troupe. After performing at the 2011 Edinburgh Festival Fringe I decided that I wanted to create something for the 2012 festival, and I knew just the chap to do it with. Sadly, Sondheim was busy, so I asked Jack. Since receiving positive feedback from that initial run, we’ve been trying to publicise and perform the show as much as possible, while simultaneously working on new material.

And the show itself is a song cycle?

Smith: A song cycle is comprised of a collection of songs, generally without any dialogue in between. The songs are connected by a story, or theme – in our case it’s the setting of a house party. Rather than having a linear narrative, we wanted to provide a snapshot view of a single night, and the isolated moments which occur within it.

So does one of you write the lyrics and the other the music?

Smith: Unlike most writing partnerships (in which there’s a composer and separate lyricist) Jack and I dabble with both music and lyrics. This is due in part to neither of us wanting to be the Tim Rice of the pair (sorry Tim), but also – and mainly – because we both have musical and lyrical ideas that we want to explore further. We often write the draft of a song individually before presenting it to the other person, who then jams along and acts as editor and critic.

Williams: The role of ‘critic’ is one that Freya was born to play.

Musicals and movement often go hand in hand…

Williams: Certain songs are quite stylised – ‘Beer Goggles’ has some rat-pack clicking/toe tapping and ‘Dancing’ includes some funky moves that wouldn’t be out of place in Saturday Night Fever.

Smith: While the piece doesn’t feature a huge amount of choreography, movement definitely plays a significant part in defining a character and his/her predicament. There’s a bit of slumping, a lot of staggering, and – never fear – we even include the most beloved of all musical theatre staples: jazz hands.

What’s the rehearsal process been like?

Williams: With some of the songs we had a very firm idea of what we wanted them to be like, and as a result they remained largely unchanged in the transition from script to stage. However, with others, there was a lot more room for experimentation. We were still writing parts of the show during the rehearsal period, so the original cast had a fair bit of input, especially when it came to choreography. For instance, while rehearsing one of the songs, which centres on a party goer busting some drunken moves on the dance floor, we more or less improvised a body percussion breakdown, complete with beat boxing, chest thumping, floor stomping and a slap bass solo. Needless to say, it’s in the show.

Did you deliberately decide to tackle themes that young audiences can relate to and why?

Smith: I would say it was less of a conscious decision than a natural consequence of two (fairly) young people sitting in a room and jamming. We exploited situations and topics that were familiar to us. While writing the show, we were really just concentrating on amusing – and outwitting – each other. Fortunately for us, that translated to a wider audience.

What’s the message of the show?

Williams: The message of the show is to be yourself. And if you can’t be yourself, drink enough alcohol to become someone else!

Smith: There is a line near the end of the show where a character reflects on the party, and ponders: “Why do we do this to ourselves? We look like fools and feel like hell, It’s nothing but a song and dance, Let’s give sobriety a chance!” I could say that this was the overriding message of the show, but that would probably be a lie (especially as chorus members respond with an appalled “What?! – No!”)

I guess what the show promotes more than anything, is the inevitability with which awkward and undesirable situations occur, but the importance of being able to laugh at those moments (which, admittedly, may take some time).

Why should readers of AYT come and see the show?

Williams: Because it’s funny, feisty and (perhaps most importantly of all during these harsh economic times) just four pounds! That works out at less than thirty seven pence per song and just over two pence per chortle, four pence per guffaw or seven pence per belly laugh.

Smith: Also, if you’re a young person interested in theatre (which I’ll assume you are, as you’re on this site), then I think the idea of watching a production written by someone of your generation is naturally exciting. Of course, the reality may be different. But I think you should take that gamble.

Part A the Musical plays at the Roundhouse on Sunday 12 May 2013 at 6.40pm as part of the Accidental Festival. Find out more about the show at http://partamusical.wix.com/parta#! or on twitter at https://twitter.com/PartAMusical.

In recent years, there’s been a substantial amount of controversy over staged adaptions of the Easter story, even more so when you add music to the mix. For example, the Broadway staging and subsequent performances of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Jesus Christ Superstar caused great uproar from religious groups. The very idea of condensing Christ’s death into a power ballad just would not do accurate service to the brutal agony. Likewise, English National Opera made a bold decision in 2000 to stage Bach’s choral masterpiece, the St. John Passion.

When one is dealing with what, for many believers, is an intensely personal story, stagings will always be risky. Even after the fifteenth century, the church generally saw sacred and secular works as separate, so to further sentimentalise the Passion would have been anathema, particularly during the Lenten period. Indeed, Bach’s Passion oratorios were written specifically for the purposes of the Lutheran church congregation, as a means for their faith.

Yet, music has a unique ability to reach out on all levels. Combine this with the live drama right before your eyes and it can make be potent. Just watch the opening chorus from Peter Sellars’s acclaimed ‘ritualisation’ of the Matthew Passion. Whilst Bach’s interweaving vocal lines are complex, a constant outpouring of devotion, there is something so simple but poignant about Sellars’s staging. The choir lament on Jesus’s death, some have their backs turned to the audience, as if to completely reject Christ in human form. Others sit lifeless, hands to their heads, overwhelmed by this event. Then there is the merciful, urgent, hymn-like prayer of the children, ‘O guiltless Lamb of God / Slaughtered on the stem of the cross’, their visible presence at the top of the auditorium, placed amongst the audience, a symbol of Jesus’s sacrifice for all people, young and old.

In addition, regardless of religion, the Passion is one account that embodies the full gamut of human experiences. Love, betrayal, death, sorrow, forgiveness, mercy, joy, hope, these are all significant concepts to which we can relate. It is no surprise, therefore, that the story has proven so powerful with a whole range of people, whether they are devout Christians or audiences at the O2, perhaps witnessing this story for this first time.

For all of the outrage, from the church to the concert hall and curtain up, the visceral emotions of music, theatre and the Easter story are just as relevant today as they were in the eighteenth century and before.

Image: Tapestry with scenes from the Passion of Christ (Wikimedia Commons)

In this age of austerity, it is very easy to take a sniffy and dismissive attitude to the arts. “Why save a theatre when you can save a hospital?” appears to be the popular discourse. Indeed, this seems to be the view of Westminster Council, representing one of the most mixed boroughs in the country, which has just taken the decision to axe its entire arts and culture budget, with worrying consequences for projects at the Soho Theatre in nurturing up-and-coming talent, and the English National Ballet in their work with those with Parkinson’s disease.

It is the duty therefore of those who work in theatre and the arts to dispel the myth that theatre is purely a white, middle-class plaything, a hobby which can look after itself thank-you-very-much.

The primary question is, then: who is theatre for? One quick glance at the audience in Wicked, Les Miserables or The Lion King will reveal large numbers of both internal and external tourists, whose bums-on-seats help sustain the West End machine. Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s venture in Saturday night television has also brought in new audiences, young families who are perhaps experiencing live theatre for the first time. They hardly fit the stereotype so easily bandied about by those who see the arts as an easy target.

But what about London’s diverse Off-West End theatres, venues such as the Tricycle in Kilburn, the Unicorn by London Bridge, or the Hackney Empire? To accuse these theatres, these homes to so many new and exciting pieces of work and community projects, of harbouring elitist audiences is perverse to the extreme. I suggest that those who condemn the arts for being in their own bubble check out the annual panto at the Hackney Empire, often starring the multi-talented Clive Rowe, and see for themselves how well it goes down with local residents.

For me, a great example of good practice in this area is the Taking Part team at the Young Vic. I was very proud to work recently as Project Assistant for the Young Vic’s Schools Theatre Festival, working with four local schools from Southwark and Lambeth in putting on a piece of theatre starring 94 Year 9s in front of their proud family and friends. These young people were about as diverse as they come, hailing from across continents, faiths, languages and upbringings. They were united by theatre. It was the first time that vast majority of the students had ever performed before, for many it would be the first time their families had seen them engage with an extra-curricular activity. For many more, it was the first time they had been to a theatre.

In the feedback forms given to all participants, under the question “What did you think of the project?” one student, who had often been difficult in rehearsal, simply wrote, “My Life”. This is what theatre can do, and who theatre can be for. Maria Miller please take note.

Image: on guard