Theatre
Nobody puts Baby in a corner! (Wild applause)
Published 06 November 2006
The hit 1980s film makes the transition to the stage, but misses a trick or two
Dirty Dancing
Aldwych Theatre, London WC2
Well, if you are into theatrical realism, a believable plot, wholly thought-through characters and historical accuracy, Dirty Dancing is not the show for you. But then, in the case of this booty-shaking fairy story, which comes with rather more cheese than there is in the Cheddar Gorge, to criticise it for unreality would be like shaking your finger at The Nutcracker for a lack of 19th-century Russian domestic verisimilitude.
For those who missed the 1987 monster film (indeed, I am one of them), here goes the story. It's simple: classic "plain girl captivates gorgeous man". The year is 1963, and Frances "Baby" Houseman, 17, is an ugly duckling on hols with her family at Kellerman's, a resort in upstate New York that delights in involving the guests in talent competitions, bingo, keep-fit exercise classes and a bit of flirty nonsense with the waiters. (The fictional Kellerman's is based on Grossinger's, an upmarket Butlin's which, in its heyday, attracted the likes of Irving Berlin and Eleanor Roosevelt.)
Yet Baby is not keen on spending her time playing bingo with Mom (an underused Issy van Randwyck), being daddy's girl to Pop (David Rintoul), or even on padding around in the skirt-swishing shadow of her gorgeous elder sister Lisa (Isabella Calthorpe). Instead, in what must surely be a theatrical first, she is guided by a large watermelon to find herself in the Kellerman's staff quarters, where a raunchy party is in full swing. Lots of dancing, most of it vaguely dirty (there's a lot of leg-kicking and back-arching), and Baby - whose white, flat Mary Jane shoes are as clear a pronouncement of her virginity as a flashing sign above her head - is hooked.
Although she has precious little script to work with, Georgina Rich manages to imbue the character of Baby with a bit more than ingénue wonderment, and so when she meets the resort heart-throb/ dance instructor Johnny Castle (Josef Brown) you hope that they will get it together. Which, of course, they do, via a storyline involving Baby stepping into the high heels of Johnny's dancing partner, who has been called away thanks to the inconvenience of a hastily arranged termination. But as I said, motivation and plot are not the point of Dirty Dancing; in fact, Baby and Johnny's uncertain mambo sequence that closes the first half is certainly not the high point of the evening.
Neither is this a show about period nostalgia: Kellerman's appears to exist in a sort of historical vacuum where fashion and music chance along from every decade. Sixties politics, in the shape of the US civil-rights protests, makes a vague entrance but then, mercifully, backs off.
No, this good-natured show is about Falling In Love, and the validity of innocent teenage sentiment over more worldly (that is to say, parental) concerns. The whole night holds together, just, largely because the cast works doggedly to make Kellerman's into a believable, self-propelled universe - a manicured paradise of holiday cabins and swimming pools where guests trip about in headscarves and golfing shoes, teenage girls moon over the waiters and the manager is on first-name terms with everyone. In one perfectly observed moment, a cleaner mops the floor behind the stage on which a guest is belting out Gilbert and Sullivan for the end-of-holiday Talent Show. It may be a one-off for him, but the staff must get on with preparations for the next week's invasion of wealthy folk on vacation.
There is, of course, the powerful footprint of the film, which the play director, James Powell, wants us never to forget: he stages almost every scene in front of a bit of cinema footage. Merely projecting rain rather than producing raindrops on stage makes for very unimaginative theatre, and in effect robs the evening of a big number in which set, music, dancing and emotion combine to produce a climactic "Aaah!" of hopeless weepiness.
However, the production does not leave you empty-handed. After all, this is a show about First Lurve, and DD devotees will know exactly the point at which First Lurve Triumphs. Even DD virgins like myself were not led to the altar unawares; with the yelling and screaming from the stalls just before Johnny makes his momentous return to Kellerman's and, trembling with emotion, delivers his lines, I knew we were about to experience A Moment. Thus I, too, have been shouting, "Nobody puts Baby in a corner!" ever since I saw, and was swept away by, Dirty Dancing.
Pick of the week
Pool (No Water)
Lyric Hammersmith, London W6
The new play by Mark Ravenhill in association with Frantic Assembly produces an extraordinary evening.
Caroline, or Change
Lyttelton Theatre, London SE1
Musical by Tony Kushner exploring racial issues, set in 1963 Louisiana. Dirty Dancing this is not.
The Winter's Tale
Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon
RSC production of late Shakespeare directed by Dominic Cooke.
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