Divorced. Beheaded. Died. Divorced. Beheaded. Survived.

Six the Musical can comfortably afford to do pretty much any and all of the above to any theatre reviewer that may dare to come for it. Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss’ rampaging, seventy-five minute cultural juggernaut is a thing of such surefire demand and adoration that it’s one of the few surefire bets in musical theatre you can safely call ‘critic proof’. It’s hard to recall a show with such a fervent, dedicated fanbase. Wicked? Or do we have to go back as far as Rocky Horror, perhaps? Of course, it’s helped immeasurably by its instant earworm of a soundtrack, one that has rippled out beyond the usual stagey crowds.

The elusive secret of the Six formula lies, it seems, in its comparative simplicity, with a smattering of almost Spice Girls–ian ‘girl power’ thrown in for good measure. The short, single-act blitz through the six wives of Henry VIII as they set their stories and struggles to pop tributes is light on story, big on character and simple yet effective in staging. It wears its streamlined, focused Fringe origins as a sparkling, rhinestoned badge of honour, and admirably none of the creatives have allowed its success to seduce them into stuffing and padding it out beyond recognition or efficiency.

Six is a smart, lean, and whippet-fast jaunt of a show. A funny, charismatic and infectious hybrid of pop concert and musical theatre that laces itself with just enough pathos and even historical insight – not to mention a crowd-pleasing undercurrent of feminine empowerment and positivity throughout – to make those bangers of songs just further icing on an already royally pleasing cake.

“…to suggest the music is somehow an afterthought would surely warrant a beheading.”

Though to suggest the music is somehow an afterthought would surely warrant a beheading. Marlow and Moss demonstrate an uncanny ear for a breadth of genre and style, not to mention setting that to witty wordplay and storytelling through song. From the hip-hop stylings of Anna of Cleve’s (Jodie Knight) ‘Get Down’ as she bombastically flaunts her freewheeling royal lifestyle, the power ballad majesty of Jane Seymour’s (Emily Dawson) wrenching, bittersweet ‘Heart of Stone’ through to the Euro-electro pulse of ‘Haus of Holbein’, each Queen gets their own signature number, perfectly attuned to the tale they have to tell.

See, for instance, the gradual degradation of Katherine Howard’s (Abi Atchison) sultry ‘All You Wanna Do’. Initially starting out as a seductive anthem in the vein of a Britney or Ariana Grande A-side, over the course of the number the spectre of predatory impulses and objectification creep in to the staging, lyrics and performance all, until eventually Howard, shaking and dehumanised, is quite literally being pulled and grasped at from every corner.

It’s just one of many masterclasses Six delivers in doing an awful lot with evidentially quite little.

Between the solo pieces and peppy ensemble numbers, the sextet engage in zippy banter and jovial oneupmanship, with the meta-narrative of a fictional contest to determine who was worse done by old Henry VIII ratcheting up toward conclusion. Lucia Valentina’s hilariously brattish Anne Boleyn habitually reminds her competitors that, despite their woes, she has this thing all sewn up by dint of, you know, losing her head. 

Lasasha Aldridge’s commanding Catherine of Aragon comes out victorious in a game of maternity misery top trumps, whilst Emily Dawson’s Jane Seymour is quick to remind the other ladies that she was the only one the infamous monarch ever truly loved and that she was robbed of seeing her child grow up. Whilst it may all sound frightfully dour and grim, it’s written with such verve and delivered with such mischievous buoyancy – tongues planted firmly in cheeks – that it all proves great, tireless fun. Jodie Knight‘s utterly infectious and audacious Anna of Cleves is the outlier, but the sheer relish and ass-shaking, fist-pumping bombacity with which she sings about how she landed on her feet is an absolute gem, with Knight giving one of the most charismatic and irrepressible Cleves’ to date.

“…it’s written with such verve and delivered with such mischievous buoyancy – tongues planted firmly in cheeks – that it all proves great, tireless fun.”

And ultimately, it leaves things to Eve Kitchingman’s freethinking survivor (and bonafide vocal powerhouse), Catherine Parr, to take a step back from her own heartbreak and appraise all the misery and schadenfreude so that Six can partake in its final, wonderfully cathartic about-turn.

Emma Bailey’s staging and Gabriella Slade’s costumes have certainly been leant some extra sparkle and pizazz since the show’s earlier outings, but once again the core essence of their simple yet showy pop concert vibes haven’t been lost. The illusion is merely amplified, and in no small part thanks to Tim Deiling’s dynamic, dramatic lighting. It looks, sounds and feels like something akin to a bottled arena spectacle, with some ruffles and threading of Tudor flavouring punched in for good measure.

The cast assembled for this latest touring are a royally scintillating and talented troupe. The performance reviewed featured a number of alternates and swings, but you’d sooner find a forgery in the Haus of Holbein before spotting a weak link in this royal chain. They’re all genuinely great, and just know whichever member of the royal court of twenty-twenty-SIX you get to experience, you’re in fantastic hands… and heels.

All six – not to mention their always-on-stage ‘ladies in waiting’ band – keep the energy levels high from the off, and practically never falter.

But we’re not about to commit the ultimate Six taboo of pitting any of these fierce, fabulous ladies against one another. Not only would it go against the entire vibe and raison d’être of this joyous, affirming ode to individuality and sisterhood both, but it would also be utterly pointless.

After all, I could say this was a theatrical atrocity beyond measure or comprehension, and it would still do precisely nothing to dampen the box office and love for brand Six. And thank Henry…. sorry, thank Catherine, Anne, Jane, Anna, Katherine and Catherine (again) for that, because Six is not only here to stay, not only is it pretty much a perfectly-formed package of poppy musical theatre brilliance, but it’s also fundamentally an empowering, vibrant and utterly original showcase of theatrical magic that wears its well-deserved crown with vim, sass, pride and utterly regal fabulousness.