Dirty Dancing
Norwich’s lady folk were singing all the way to the car park
Right. Let’s start with the important stuff, the really big questions. Lewis Kirk, for all his black outfits, Ray-Bans and hair gel, is not even close to Patrick Swayze’s 1987 Johnny Castle. Don’t get me wrong; there was still an obscene amount of oestrogen flying around the room, and plenty of wolf whistling when he stood around broodily and came to Baby’s rescue. He just wasn’t the real Johnny is all and I don’t want you being disappointed.
For just under two weeks, the Dirty Dancing company will be joining hands and hearts and voices in Norwich’s Theatre Royal as one of the four stops in the current tour. The production is very well done, with great use of a slatted white back drop, a rotating floor, flawless dancing and a cracking house band, but parts of the musical seem to fall just a little flat. It’s incredibly tricky to match the sort of cult success that the film still has now; I mean, can you imagine Ghostbusters II on stage? With all the grinding, thieving old men, cougars, bigotry, sex, and fancy footwork, it’s easy for the blossoming love story between Baby and Johnny to get completely lost.
For me, the comic moments were the highlights (Lisa’s bloody dreadful singing and Neil’s dancing really stole the show). The audience didn’t really come alive until the finale, and then when they got going they really got going. Spurred on by disco balls and hunky chaps, Norwich’s lady folk were singing all the way to the car park.
In summary, if you’re after a cheese-y evening with a good old fashioned sing-a-long, it’s well worth your time.
