Jake Byrom in Rasputin Rocks at the Stockwell Playhouse, London. Picture: Zac Cooke
Rasputin Rocks continues at the Stockwell Playhouse, London until 10 December.
Star rating: one star ★ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩
This new musical by Andrew Hobbs and Alistair Smith is set in the near future. Russia has expanded its borders, is the world’s largest superpower, and the president of the Russian Federation has declared herself Emperor.
Rumours are rife that the Emperor is not well and the United Nations sees it as an opportunity to send their best envoy to negotiate a peace settlement and save the world – enter Tony Blair! However, the Emperor has a dastardly plan to resurrect the legendary mad monk Rasputin to assist in her final act of destruction.
There are so many things wrong with this musical that it is difficult to know where to begin. With the sound of Meat Loaf tracks in the foyer and auditorium hopes are high, but from the very first number, the title song, performed by the ensemble (Robyn Hampton, Charlotte Shaw and Jessica Townsley) it is clear things are not good – the girls’ voices are completely drowned out by the band.
The Emperor of Russia (Maria Alexe) and her loyal lackey, Sergei (Jay Joel) waffle on – the voice projection is appalling, and that sadly applies to most of the cast.
Most of the book throughout this entire production is lost by bad projection and trying to speak with the most hideous accents.
The Stockwell Playhouse is not a huge auditorium and the acoustics are good, there is no excuse, and as director, Hobbs (also on stage as Blair) should have picked up on this.
Why was a good four-piece band (Connor Fogel – musical director/keyboards, Jimmy Lacey – guitar, Sam Stickland – bass and Livio Polisano – drums) amplified?
There is no need in a venue of this size and the music, which generally is not bad, completely drowns out the lyrics of almost every song.
This is so unfair on the actors and the band and it needs to be sorted quickly. Everyone expects a rock musical to have volume (Bat Out of Hell was very loud but the sound was crystal clear), but not when the poor old actors have to battle against it.
Dance wise, Nicky Griffiths is responsible for the infantile choreography. Sympathy for Tristan Ward who is given the unenviable task of playing an over the top queenie floor manager who is so stereotypically 1970s that it is cringeworthy.
There are some performances that stand out, in particular Tanya Truman as Svetlana, Barry Greene as Anton and Jake Byrom as Rasputin. When you can hear them, their vocals are great.
This production is the London premiere and anyone writing and presenting a new musical has to be applauded and encouraged, but the problem with this show is that the book is pretty weak and nonsensical. There is some humour but it is minimal and crass.
As an example, soon after Rasputin’s rather unspectacular entrance, he says he wants to see some pole dancing. Having supposedly being frozen for over 100 years, how does he know about such things? The Emperor even states he is completely out of touch so it makes no sense.
It’s easy to identify the influences of other rock musicals – Bat Out of Hell, Tommy and the Rocky Horror Show – but Rasputin Rocks just doesn’t have what it takes to match such cult shows.
The writers need to go back to the drawing board and Hobbs needs to step back from his baby and let someone else work their magic.
It needs to be camp fun, high energy and a good 20 minutes shorter. Get rid of the Emperor – start with Rasputin defrosting and wanting to conquer the world himself – make Rasputin stand out just like Frank‘n’Furter. With a bit more imagination there might be a musical to salvage.
A good rock musical should leave you on a high. Rasputin Rocks will make you laugh, but sadly for all the wrong reasons.
Helena Howard
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