★★★★
They say that to understand somebody, you should try to walk a mile in their shoes.
Kinky Boots has opened the same week that Trump had his second inauguration. And this new production feels like a gut punch, and a middle finger all at once. If red is for danger, the Pantone of the famed footwear is sure fire.
Cyndi Lauper and Harvey Fierstein’s musical – based on real-life events that played out just down the road from Leicester’s Curve theatre – has never felt more timely. It’s largely due to director Nikolai Foster’s decision to put those events and the people that they happened to into sole focus. We meet Charlie (Dan Partridge) in a small act of defiance as he leaves the factory town behind, pursuing a life away from his father's shoe business. While in the depths of grief, a chance encounter with a drag queen Lola (Johannes Radebe) encourages him to put his best foot forward.
In this staging, there are moments of pin-drop quiet, and the audience is a fly-on-the-wall. Robert Jones has designed a tall but unassuming warehouse set, bought back to all-exposing bare brick. But there is lovely attention to detail, with the information pinboard gradually changing from rotas to high fashion design drawings, and the ensemble operating machinery on their moving worktops. The cast slip on their ruby red boots on stage, helping one another up. They turn on the industrial light switches themselves in monotonous day-to-day life.
The more raw approach revitalizes the numbers (musical supervision by George Dyer), heard afresh as rock ballads, they’re growled and gritty. Partridge's anthemic "Soul of a Man" sets the stage ablaze and "What A Woman Wants" bites back. The music crashes into the prejudiced language of the often biting book.
Johannes Radebe’s voice carries, at times, with a vulnerability, because he totally is. In his musical theatre debut, he's baring all joining a line of acclaimed performers responsible for Lola, a character that demands full attention - physically, mentally, and emotionally. It's a marvel, and I can't help but feel he's at the start of something monumental.
His cabaret act is more Shirley Bassey than Shirley Ballas. Like a cat, he purrs before plunging his claws into cutting comebacks. Lola's entourage of Angels (with names ranging from Trinni Ann Tobago to Clover the Top) are more nonchalant, cooler, perhaps. They have an attitude lifted from RuPaul's workroom. Dressed in Y2K marmite fashion - denim mini skirts, sequined crop tees, animal print fur coats - they're perfectly individual, throwing up in the loo after too many vodkas and braiding one another's hair.
Like the characterisation choices, the choreography is stiletto-sharp. A homage to club culture, Leah Hill has bodies move on a hazy dance floor under Ben Cracknell's neon lights. Intoxicating, slow-motion moments explode into quick-footed synchronisation uniting down-on-their-luck factory workers with queens - with Radebe rightfully front, centre, and bejeweled.
He's in fantastic comedic company with Courtney Bowman and Scott Paige. Bowman's "History of Wrong Guys" is an early scene-stealer, her potty-mouthed Lauren clumsily charming. Paige's George is a well-meaning friend, able to bring a crowd to hysterics with the raise of an eyebrow. I can only wish to see more of the duo together.
Kinky Boots examines how the weight of burden - from parents, from partners, and from society - can be as dangerous as a snapped heel. It asks how you can carve out your own legacy in the shadows of somebody else. But this show is courageous, free, and determined.
A brilliant production, with a cast to boot. Join the Kinky Boots revolution!
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