Blues in the Night – Hackney Empire

L–R: Gemma Sutton, Clive Rowe, Sharon D Clarke and Paulette Ivory in Blues in the Night at the Hackney Empire, London

Blues in the Night continues at the Hackney Empire, London until 4 May.

Sheldon Epps’ 1980 Off-Broadway (and 1982 Broadway) show returns to London, this time spending a spell at the glorious Hackney Empire. More of a dramatic revue than a musical, per se, Blues in the Night is packed with classic songs from the Blues songbook – a jukebox show, if you will, of numbers from the likes of Bessie Smith, Johnny Mercer, Duke Ellington and Harold Arlen.

Set in a humid 1930s Chicago, the plotless story is a scant frame on which the songs are hung. Three women, holed up in a crumbling hotel, recount their various experiences with men – and one man in particular – all to a brassy blues soundtrack provided by the hotel bar’s band. Lording over the joint is The Man, who in return acts as commentator and antagonist, sharing his own views on women and life in general.

This ravishing revue is a two-act celebration of the blues, given a glorious extra dimension by the characterful performances. None of the characters are named, although the script gives them discreet identities. Clive Rowe, usually seen at the Empire in his full Dame livery, is perfect as ‘The Man’ – here presenting the entire male sex. He is so smooth, keeping his composure even when faced with the haranguing harpies. Rowe is a wonderful comic actor, and his Man is someone you quickly warm to. He has a couple of stand-out numbers, particularly ‘When a Woman Loves a Man’ and ‘I’m Just a Lucky So-and-So’, and he works extremely well in the ensemble numbers, when he gets the chance to exercise his acting muscles.

The trio of women – representing three ages of womanhood – are played by Gemma Sutton (The Girl), Paulette Ivory (The Woman) and the fantastic Sharon D Clarke (The Lady), who lifts the roof a few times in the evening. All three are smoking hot and give it everything they’ve got, belting out song after song. Ivory’s rendition of Alberta Hunter’s ‘Rough and Ready Man’ was particularly well appreciated, accompanied by whoops of encouragement from the audience.

But it’s Olivier-winner Clarke who steals the show, whether blasting out the brassy numbers – her ‘Kitchen Man’ is hilarious: “His frankfurters are oh so sweet/How I like his sausage meat”! – or reflecting quietly on her past. In one particularly poignant moment towards the end of Act II, as she thumbs wistfully through her photo album, The Lady delivers a heart-wrenching ‘Worried Life Blues’ – a beautifully paced and controlled interpretation that really plumbs the emotional depths and brings the show to a standstill.

Two additional performers, dancers KM Drew Boateng and Ryan Reid, are somewhat underused, tinkering around at the back of the stage for much of the time. When they do get the chance to dance, it’s effective but all too brief, and I would have liked to have seen more of them in action.

Much more effective is MD/pianist Mark Dickman and his feisty band of four – drums, trumpet, sax (doubling flute) and bass. Tight and punchy, their breathtaking playing is a joy in itself, helping to elevate the evening beyond a mere karaoke show. David Kidd’s lighting also works wonders to set the scene, bathing the stage alternately in warm oranges or cool blues.

Blues in the Night is a classy, sassy night out – perfect if you’re looking for a bit of sultry sophistication. Just don’t expect any more. The chiffon-thin story peters out towards the end, as many of these revue shows do, but who cares when you’ve got performers and songs of this quality on hand? It’s the kind of music I would have preferred to hear in a smaller space, like the Jazz Cafe or the 100 Club – the formality of a pros-arch theatre and the intrinsic attitudes of a theatre audience do this show no favours – and preferably accompanied by a few more whiskies. But nevertheless, it’s a great night out in which you learn that, whoever you are and whatever your problems, everyone’s got the right to sing the blues.

Craig Glenday