One of the most regrettable recent casualties of the rising challenges facing the theatre industry was Nick Winston’s 2024 tour of Bonnie & Clyde. The run was cut short just a handful of venues in, despite strong reviews and positive word of mouth, with producers citing disappointing ticket sales as the main culprit for the wheels coming off.

Having seen Winston’s big, audacious and technically dazzling offering, it’s easy to see why it was no doubt a costly piece of theatre to stage, and thus needed significants bums on seats to be sustainable. Major projection work, staging and audiovisual bombast doesn’t come cheap these days.

It’s precisely what made the announcement of the Old Joint Stock Theatre’s revival such a compelling one. The Birmingham venue has been developing a reputation for high-quality yet comparatively intimate in-house productions of late. Could the team learn from the misfortunes of Winston and co, and put on a smaller scale, less ostentatious revival of Bonnie & Clyde that still did Wildhorn, Black and Menchell’s piece justice?

For whilst this is, with a sixteen-strong cast, in many ways the venue’s biggest outing to date, it is still all housed within the Old Joint Stock’s bijou upstairs theatre, where the flanking audience are literally within touching distance of all the action.

Credit to the cast and company alike, then, for not only pulling off a slick, exciting piece of musical theatre in and of itself, but indeed a revival that fires off with just as much talent, energy and emotional clout as its doomed forebear.

“a slick, exciting piece of musical theatre in and of itself… that fires off with just as much talent, energy and emotional clout.”

Depicting the coming together and eventual short-lived but long-lasting infamy of its titular outlaws, taken at surface value, Bonnie & Clyde is a fairly procedural biopic. Young Bonnie Parker (India Lily Cooper) is an ingenue abandoned in a loveless marriage, with aspirations of Hollywood and adoration, with dreams of being the next Clara Bow. She catches the eye of charismatic troublemaker Clyde Barrow (Samuel Murray), who has frequent run ins with the law, alongside younger brother, Buck (Killian Thomas Lefevre).

The romantic folie à deux that follows charts the duo’s rise from petty criminality to quasi celebrity status. Menchell does a decent job at giving the pair some shade and nuance, bleakly depicting the realities of Great Depression era Texas. Clyde’s argument that the law will never leave him be even if he goes ‘straight’ gets some credence, and there is even some hauntingly resonant commentary about justified criminality in America that feels more prescient than ever.

Ultimately, though, Bonnie & Clyde is a character study, and one elevated considerably by Wildhorn and Black’s music. From the infectious, jaunty earworms of ‘This World Will Remember Us’ and ‘You’re Going Back To Jail’ to the hefty character belts of ‘Dying Ain’t So Bad’ or ‘Raise A Little Hell’, it’s a great soundtrack, and cast and company alike bring it to life with real talent and gusto.

Director Emily Susanne Lloyd and movement director Ellie Begley deftly balance the confines of the space they have, whilst still serving up full bodied musical numbers in the likes of a hilarious hair salon back-and-forth or a spirit gospel invocation. Bonnie & Clyde doesn’t boast a huge number of big set pieces or song and dance moments, but Lloyd and Begley do a great job with what moments they can, offering spirited, characterful and vigorous choreography that stomps and sings a storm in the immediacy of the small theatre.

Despite consisting heavily of two-handers and quieter moments, Lloyd keeps things moving and fluid. Rapid fire transitions and intercuts between action are smooth and clearly defined, and there’s a steady, rhythmic pulse to the busier second Act in particular.

Sure, it can occasionally get a little too busy in the limited area, with sightline occasionally at jeapordy and even a threat of impending whiplash for some of the audience as they dart heads from left to right to keep up, but for the most part this is once again an impressive achievement within the space it is all housed. George P Martin’s wooden, fractured set is littered with enough detail to convey a sense of time and place, and is bathed in Joanne Marshall’s moody, atmospheric hues of orange and occasional cold, harsh blue.

Where it is less showy, though, this smaller productions equally sings, with its impressive company showcased up close and personal. Faye Campbell is feisty, likeable and frequently funny as Buck’s despairing, god-fearing, voice of reason wife, Blanche. She is heartbreaking in later scenes, and harmonises beautifully with Cooper on the stirring ‘You Love Who You Love’. Davis Weaver serves up strong vocals and sensitivity as the Sheriff determined to both take down Clyde and also win over childhood sweetheart, Bonnie. Charlotte Dixon proves an impressive and chameleonic character actress, whilst Charlotte Neale and Steven Rostance similarly impressive in a number of minor supporting roles.

“…there’s little doubt the evening belongs to its eponymous anti-heroes.”

But there’s little doubt the evening belongs to its eponymous anti-heroes. India Lily Cooper and Samuel Murray are both seriously impressive in the title roles; no feint praise given the demanding sings and performances asked of them. Murray embodies the cocksure charisma and barely repressed disdain of Clyde perfectly, giving a physically and vocally commanding turn throughout. He riffs through the big, high belts with confidence, but also displays a soulful, tender side with a beautiful rendition of lovelorn ode, ‘Bonnie’ . Cooper, similarly, proves herself a serious talent to watch. She not only does a searing, powerful job of the character’s big numbers, such as a rending ‘Dying Ain’t So Bad’, but so too does she chart Bonnie’s journey from impressionable dreamer to fiery criminal with complete authenticity and undeniable stage presence.

Individually, they are wonderful. Together – quite fittingly – they’re intoxicating.

So Bonnie & Clyde at the Old Joint Stock Theatre gets its Bonnie and Clyde – and practically everything else – right. It’s a vibrant, kinetic demonstration of not needing the biggest budget or most expansive of staging to present memorable musical theatre. And, if anything, the immediacy of the action only makes it all the more thrilling.

Very minor quibbles aside, the characterful and unique Birmingham venue once again defies conventional wisdom and modest confinements to stage a revival that is so individual, aspirational and entertaining that it should almost surely be criminal.

It seems a trifle old hat at this point to be vaunting the productions at Birmingham’s Old Joint Stock Theatre for their sense of aspiration and relentless energy. The intimate venue has been blowing the doors off of any small scale trappings or modesty and currently basks in a renaissance of impressive, original, in-house productions.

Alexander Dinelaris and Tim Acito’s Zanna, Don’t! is the first musical arrival (of two – Scrooge in Rouge follows later this month) for the theatre this festive season, and its a great standard bearer for the current OJS approach.

Shrewdly balancing both the immediacy and up-close-and-personal rawness of fringe theatre with a genuine sense of showmanship and ensemble wattage that feels big and punchy, director Scott Le Crass uses every inch of space and every ounce of a talented company to deliver a cracking, campy treat.

The high-concept framing of Zanna’s world doesn’t land quite as daringly as it perhaps did when it debuted back in 2003, but it remains a fun subversion. We’re in parallel universe/‘fairytale’ territory, with the big catch being that homosexuality is the norm. Acito’s book keeps things mostly light and chirpy, but the premise births a number of fun little quirks such as the chess prodigy and drama club team being the top dogs in school, and the burgeoning forbidden romance being between, le gasp, a boy and a girl.

And in the middle of it all, there’s wand-waving cupid Zanna (Jack Gittins), who talks to birds, looks out for his fellow students and generally flits about playing match-maker for everyone but themself.

“…director Scott Le Crass uses every inch of space and every ounce of a talented company to deliver a cracking, campy treat.”

Not all the disparate elements of Zanna, Don’t! entirely gel or convince. If that summation alone sounds a bit bonkers, just wait until you set it to music. It is zippy and a lot of fun but the book overall lacks focus. With so much heightened campiness and hijinks abounding, it feels a little muddled in what it’s trying to say and be. Minor supporting characters suddenly become key narrative anchors, despite the audience not really knowing them at all, even as the interval beckons. Zanna himself, whilst a likeable and fun original character, often seems artificially secondary to, or detached from, the key plot points developing. And some of the eventual plot resolutions bandy between being genuinely touching and neatly unexpected to others that feel a little unconvincing and completely out of left field.

But if it’s all a little bit muddied and erratic, Le Crass and the company do a great job of keeping things entertaining. From random hoedowns to a number featuring three characters we’ve only just met singing about… being quick… Zanna, Don’t! gleefully careens down mad, colourful cul-de-sacs of randomness that are rarely anything less than a hoot to watch. Again, all involved make optimum use of their confines, and David Winters’ intuitive, characterful choreography and blocking makes many of the more ambitious set pieces genuinely flow and feel far bigger and showier than they objectively are.

“…gleefully careens down mad, colourful cul-de-sacs of randomness that are rarely anything less than a hoot to watch.”

It certainly helps, too, that the show boasts some terrific musical theatre talent. With many on multi-role duty, this is a hardworking company that are clearly completely invested in the mantra of upping the ante. Sam Brasenell and Lou Destanque regularly raise the roof with knock-out, West End-worthy vocals, with Destanque also brilliantly brassy as the feisty Roberta. Marcus Collick, Josephina Ortez Lewis and Caprice Lane are great fun in a number of supporting roles, with Lane’s bratty mean girl persona in particular a giggle-worthy delight.

Adam Makepeace, meanwhile, really shines and proves himself a talent to watch as chess champ Mike, who goes on his own troubled romantic journey, whilst Oliver White conveys the conflicted Steve with nuance and poignancy.

Delivering arguably the most admirable turn, however, is Jack Gittins, who notably stepped in to the demanding lead role of Zanna with only 48 hours to learn the role and rehearse. The confidence and irrepressible sass they exude in the role completely belies the short turnaround time, and Gittins should be applauded for so capably stepping into Zanna’s stunning heels at such short notice.

Much like this summer’s First Date, Zanna, Don’t! isn’t a flawless masterpiece of musical theatre writing, nor does it break ground to the extent its subversive approach may first seem to suggest. But the team at the Old Joint Stock have once again taken a neat little show and turned it into a deceptively ambitious and vibrant explosion of colour and talent. Fun, catchy show tunes are impressively staged, and carried by an absolute joy of a cast who positively work their socks off to defy any limitations or preconceptions you may have of seeing a musical staged in a smaller venue.

So the verdict on whether or not to catch it this Christmas?

Zanna, do!

Are High School Musical’s campy, ambitious Sharpay and Ryan truly the villains of the piece, or does that in fact go to Vanessa Hudgens‘ doe-eyed wet flannel, Gabriella? What is going through the mind of (spoiler alert) Frozen’s conniving Prince Hans whilst crooning unconventional gaslighter, ‘Love Is An Open Door’?

And, perhaps most probing and searing of all… what does any self-respecting musical theatre performer or accompanist wear to channel their inner lion?

Just some of the freewheeling camp and hijinks that permeate the Old Joint Stock’s I Screamed a Scream. Dubbed a ‘Villains Cabaret’, it manifests as precisely that, with a ‘wicked-ly talented’ (Travolta’s creepy accentuation itself referenced) foursome belting their way through a collection of dastardly numbers of the stage and screen.

It’s a robust, eclectic setlist, for starters. There are the expected tentpoles – the big Disney favourites such as The Lion King’s ‘Be Prepared’ and The Little Mermaid’s ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ are present and accounted for. Dipping into the worlds of Sondheim and the stage, favourites from Sweeney Todd, Hairspray and even Hamilton get their dues, too (some admittedly in truncated, mash-up form).

“There are the expected tentpoles… but the show, directed by Emily Susanne Lloyd, bats in some broader, less expected swings, too.”

But the show, directed by Emily Susanne Lloyd, bats in some broader, less expected swings, too. ‘The Pitiful Children’ from Be More Chill, anyone? Or how about Suzanne Pleshette’s gleefully vicious ‘My Lullaby’ from the direct-to-VHS Lion King sequel? Bandying between light-hearted bops to genuinely sinister anthems (The Hunchback of Notre Dame’s ‘Hellfire’ gets an impressively serious outing here), it’s a delicately curated roster that makes for a wonderfully varied, tonally rambunctious evening of mischief and villainy.

The talent assembled for the occasion impress throughout. Sinead Kenny (Aladdin), Lydia Eliza Roberts (Heathers the Musical) and Haydn Cox (Dear Evan Hansen) all turn in great vocals and feisty, characterful performances throughout. Kenny infuses sultry sass and delicious amounts of venom and spite into some great villainesses such as Mother Gothel, Zira and Amber Von Tussle. Roberts gets in plenty of big belts and showy moments through big asks such as Mean Girl’s ‘World Burn’ and Into the Woods’ ‘Last Midnight’. And Cox jolts megawatts of energy, riffs and humour into everything from Little Shop’s dentist, Jesus Chris Superstar’s King Herod to the actual villain of Heathers the Musical.

“There’s evidently a ton of passion for all things villainous here…”

Steering the good ship villainy is the Old Joint Stock’s very own James Edge. No stranger to heading up a cabaret, Edge (himself a seasoned musical theatre performer) is a suave, slick performer and proves a perfect host for the occasion, fully throwing himself into the sassy, camp mayhem of it all. There’s evidently a ton of passion for all things villainous here, and some of the evening’s best – and funniest – moments are courtesy of his patter and commentary on all things devilish and devious. Edge shares great chemistry with his co-stars, including accompanist Callum Thompson (who proves a great sport throughout), and all the giddy mischief only makes the no-frills rawness of the likes of his ‘Hellfire’ rendition all the more disarming and powerful.

It’s all delightful, unapologetic cabaret goodness with an extra sheen of malevolence. For fans of the darker side of Disney and musicals (which should be any self-respecting enthusiast, let’s be frank), I Screamed A Scream is a surefire recommendation. It’s a funny, spirited melange of some of the best showtunes and most memorable ne’er-do-wells. One which bubbles with cackling, creepy creativity and makes no bones about its stripped-back, warts-and-all approach. Winningly piloted by Edge, and featuring a rogues gallery of engaging musical theatre talent, it’s a deliciously entertaining showcase that, as its marketing proclaims, it truly does feel so good to be bad.

As the theatregoing community dives into its annual flurry of Fringe-mania, with burgeoning new voices and shows dotting every nook, cranny and corner of Edinburgh, it’s always worth remembering that the Celtic capital does not hold a monopoly on indie productions. Birmingham’s Old Joint Stock Theatre has proven itself a cultural hotspot of original and in-house pieces, including the serving up of shows rarely seen on the UK circuit.

First Date is a perfect tentpole example of this. Winsberg, Zachary and Weiner’s spunky rom-com represents a shiny UK premiere for the Birmingham venue. Outside of a Samantha Barks and Simon Lipkin-headed digital version streamed during lockdown, this is the first time First Date has been performed this side of the Atlantic, and it proves a canny fit for the Old Joint Stock.

Whilst not quite a two-hander, Date centres around, unsurprisingly, a blind date match up for awkward, overdressed Aaron (Michali Dantes) and spirited yet guarded Casey (Rokaya). The intimacy of the Old Joint Stock’s theatre allows the creatives here to perfectly transform it into ‘Cupidz’, the New York bar-restaurant where the show takes place. Plenty of credit to designers Joanne Marshall and Jacob Finch for crafting a really palpable sense of place and ambience. Kitschy neon signs, an actual bar and Tom McVeigh’s vibrant yet stylised city backdrop invites audiences into the world of First Date, and it’s impossible to shake the sense that you’re sat in the thick of the action.

And what colourful, zany, inspired action it is. For despite its closeness and intimacy, the five performers who head up First Date do a seriously impressive job of making this register as full throated musical theatre.

In many ways, the MVPs here are the triad of supporting performers – Tom Kiteley, Lowri Hamer and Joey Warne – who spin, cartwheel and even death drop their way through a panoply of wildly different and tirelessly entertaining characters and bit parts. The catty, increasingly impatient gay best friend. The deified ex fiancé. In a vein similar to, say, the thought avatars of A Strange Loop, many of the trio’s characters are embodiments of friends, former lovers and other parts of the leading duo’s psyches lending voice to how this fractious first encounter is transpiring. Some may balk at how some of the characterisations tiptoe a little awkwardly close to slightly dated tropes, but when you’re having this much fun with it all, such criticism feels cynical.

First Dates is perhaps at its strongest and most infectious when it lets the freewheeling, bonkers elements of its story run riot – from a sidesplitting showdown of conflicting religious authorities, the hyperactive puppetry of an imaginary son through to the literal physical embodiment of Google itself putting on a vaudevillian song and dance number.

“…perhaps at its strongest and most infectious when it lets the freewheeling, bonkers elements of its story run riot…”

Director James Edge asks a lot of his company throughout, threading constant movement (shoutout to a particularly inspired idea to have the characters be ‘served’ the props for their upcoming scenes and numbers), energy and vibrancy through a piece that is essentially about two people sat down getting to know one another. As mentioned, the talented group more than rise to the challenge, and thoroughly impress in turning the big show tunes and numbers into really substantial and entertaining musical set pieces.

In fact, the showier and sillier moments of First Date are so winning that they regularly threaten to overshadow the more formulaic romance at its heart. Thankfully, Michali Dantes and Rokaya are both in fine voice, and do a good job of fleshing out their leads over the course of the two hour piece, dipping into some genuinely touching territory come the second act in particular. There’s a definite arc and growth to these contrasting yet complementary characters, and we come to share in Aaron’s gradual empowerment and Casey’s slow yet determined breaking down of her defensive barriers.

“…there can’t be enough good things said about the absolute delight that is that supporting trio.”

Strip it to its bare bones, and there isn’t all that much that is devastatingly original or new in First Date. Yet Edge and company inject it with enough character that we actually come to care, and there can’t be enough good things said about the absolute delight that is that supporting trio. Kiteley, Hamer and Warne prove themselves chameleonic physical and character comedians par excellence, and in no small way help to elevate the formulaic into the fabulous, and the intimate into something frequently impressive.