Like many artists with indelible, defining signature hits or anthems, Frank Sinatra famously loathed his seminal ‘My Way’. Toward the latter years of his storied career, he wasn’t shy of sharing this with audiences, either.

It likely explains why this world premiere of Sinatra the Musical, developed with the blessing and involvement of the Sinatra family, completely omits arguably his most iconic tentpole. Heck, even ‘New York, New York’ is relegated to a peppy curtain call singalong.

Some may balk at this, but in truth, Sinatra’s catalogue of classics is so replete with incredible tunes and instantly-recognisable earworms that it matters little at all. In fact, there’s an admirable confidence to a production that doesn’t lazily dovetail to the expected, autopilot closer.

Outstide of this, things are a little more typical. Sinatra the Musical is a handsomely-performed, vibrant and polished affair. It is padded with some of the usual restraints and limitations of the musical biopic, and doesn’t prod too deeply beneath the surface when it comes to its titular crooner. The jury will likely be out for some as to whether it is a little too reverential – murkier beats such as Sinatra’s long-rumoured (and indeed, photographed) affiliation with mob kingpins is touched upon but mostly explained away, and his legion infidelities and indiscretions during marriage are presented here as a mostly breezy jaunt of naughtiness. The show does, at least, afford the excellent Phoebe Panaretos, as first wife Nancy Sinatra, some isolated moments of hurt and anguish as she spots her husband’s freewheeling plastered across the papers.

“The jury will likely be out for some as to whether it is a little too reverential…”

Again, much of this is predominately the nature of the beast when it comes to the musical biopic, and that’s perfectly fine, as most audiences will go in knowing and expecting precisely this. Joe Dipietro’s book bounces along through the decades and tumult of Sinatra’s turbulent career, though perhaps a little more focus on character over incident would make the extremes register a little stronger here. Sinatra’s down and outs are undone almost as quickly on stage as they are introduced, and the highs are similarly fleeting. It’s difficult at times to get a full sense of just how successful – or desperate – his life becomes.

At just shy of three hours, it’s a meaty tale, though, even if there’s probably an argument to be made that a slightly overlong first Act outstays its welcome by a good ten minutes or so.

That’s all there really is to critique, though. The sheer bombast and joy of having a full brass band on stage at regular intervals is an absolute treat, and lends the production an authentic, show-stopping sense of razzmatazz. It’s all nestled in Peter McKintosh’s colourful, period-infused staging – a neat hybrid of physical set pieces and characterful projection work. Jon Morrell’s costumes follow suit and are regularly stunning. Director Kathleen Marshall keeps things punchy and energised throughout, injecting some terrific fun and even verticality into sequences such as the aforementioned ‘Come Fly With Me’ carousel of lovers.

But really, Sinatra the Musical is carried on the shoulder of a superb company of performers who infuse it with heart, humour and depth that transcends its occasionally slight book.

Carl Patrick, Vincent Riotta and Dawn Buckland pepper scenes with a sardonic sense of humour and bluntness (and even the occasional no-nonsense, expletive-laden tirade) throughout as Frank’s manager and parents, respectively. Riotta and Buckland even get their own ‘Timeless to Me’ moment, kicking up laughs and a hearty cheer with a spirited riff on ‘You Make Me Feel So Young’. Greg Bernstein tap dances a storm, and brings that distinctive, cheery energy to occasional appearances as Gene Kelly, whilst Ryesha Higgs momentarily threatens to steal the entire show with an extended cameo from Billie Holiday that oozes class and Holiday’s trademark ‘whiskey’ charm.

“Sinatra the Musical does some powerful things with its leading ladies and their very separate – yet often complimentary – plights.”

Of its central trio, Panaretos does a tremendous job with the ‘long-suffering wife’ supporting role, that can so easily become rote or formulaic. She charts Nancy’s journey, from feisty but doe-eyed youth to a woman who quietly yet confidently asserts her own independence and self-worth, with real gravity and dimension. Ana Villafañe, meanwhile, is similarly excellent as Ava Gardner – radiating raw Hollywood charisma and sex appeal, whilst still managing to find poignancy and even some timely pathos, with reminders of how the studio system placed such a stranglehold on the lives of its female stars. One of Villafañe’s later scenes, where she frankly sets out her reasons (and lack of choice) for a medical procedure she undertakes, is all the more devastating and eye-opening by dint of it being played out in such a matter of fact, no-nonsense fashion. Sinatra the Musical does some powerful things with its leading ladies and their very separate – yet often complimentary – plights.

Yet precisely nobody will be surprised to learn that the star of the show is undoubtedly Tony-winner Matt Doyle in the leading role. He has a superb ensemble around him, and fantastic supporting turns, as mentioned, but Sinatra simply wouldn’t work if its incarnation of ‘old blue eyes’ himself wasn’t up to scratch. Doyle treads a masterful balance between channeling the flourishes and vocal inflections of Sinatra, his charismatic, earnest turn coursing with ‘Frankie’s’ trademark charm to spare, without reducing it to straight-up imitation or a glorified tribute act.

“…a dream of a performance that serves as the production’s (rightful) crowning glory.”

Doyle expectedly sings a dream – including show-stopping finales of both acts – and you realise early on that even big asks such as ‘That’s Life’ and ‘I’m Gonna Live Till I Die’ are in fine hands (lungs?). Sinatra registers as a person, as a character, rather than just a simulacra, and it’s a dream of a performance that serves as the production’s (rightful) crowning glory.

There’s probably a tighter, perhaps even slightly more consequential, version of Sinatra’s story that could be tweaked, pulled and plumbed from what is currently found in Sinatra the Musical. But for an all-new offering, with truly heady expectations heaped on it from name recognition alone, Marshall and Dipietro’s production is a polished, routinely impressive affair full of swagger, big band energy, and a rich collection of stunning performances. On the shoulders of a barnstorming turn from its leading man, it is a sumptuous, satisfying dip into the life of one of the most iconic and beloved entertainers of all time, and if this is just the beginning, then yes, we’re going to go there…

…we’ve a feeling that for this glitzy, impressive delight of a show, the best is yet to come…

“You don’t know why you’re funny, you just know that people laugh… you don’t know why.”

Perhaps surprising words coming from Ernie Wise, one half of seminal comedy duo Morecambe and Wise, during a 1966 BBC interview. In an insightful and frank exchange, the two tentpoles of British comedy admit that their foray into funny began initially out of necessity – “It began as a way of making money, quite honestly”, Morecambe declares early in – and that there was a nebulous, unknown quality as to why and how they ‘worked’, and went on to become one of the Nation’s most beloved and iconic comedy pairings.

Fast-forward half a Century or so, and whatever ephemeral magic ebbed between the duo has at the very least been channelled – potentially even bottled – by the creatives involved in this special, 20th anniversary production of The Play What I Wrote running at the Birmingham REP this Christmas and New Year.

Attempting to unravel all the layers of play-within-a-play, homage-not-impersonation meta-ness of the show may initially seem a daunting task, but in truth What I Wrote is a fairly straightforward affair, striking gold in foregoing any attempts at biopic or imitation by instead using the essence and spirit of the iconic duo as its blueprint for bringing a wholly original, Morecambe and Wise-esque story to the stage in suitably daft yet irrepressible style.

First staged in London back in 2001 by Kenneth Branagh, and headlined then by Hamish McColl and Sean Foley, this 20th anniversary production sees the latter taking on directorial duties and steering a riotously funny, high-energy remaster of a show that, perhaps now more than ever, brings exactly the calibre of uncynical, feel-good sunshine that we all need a strong dose of post-pandemic.

“Exactly the calibre of uncynical, feel-good sunshine that we all need a strong dose of post-pandemic.”

Thom (Thom Tuck) is one, somewhat dissatisfied, half of a flailing double act – rounded out by Dennis (Herdman… the actors keeping their actual names in true M&W fashion). His confidence in comedy bruised, he has his sights set on putting on a stage version of his decidedly serious (see: farcical) new play, ‘A Tight Squeeze For The Scarlet Pimple’, whilst Dennis is orchestrating an Eric and Ernie tribute act that he hopes will revitalise both their comedy fortunes and his partner’s malaise.

Perhaps one of What I Wrote’s most ingenious moves – from both a creative and commercial perspective – was in channelling Morecambe and Wise’s trope of having mystery guest stars for their stage and screen specials. Previously, the likes of Ralph Fiennes, Kylie Minogue and even Sting have delighted audiences by being the ‘guest star’ persuaded to take part in the leading duo’s stage hijinks, and the current production has already struck the stagey zeitgeist, enticing audiences by asking ‘who will you see?’.

With an opening week that has already included Eastenders star Kara Tointon and Coronation Street and Loose Women stalwart Denise Welch, Foley and the team have shown they are truly pulling no punches as none other than ‘Loki’ himself, Avengers superstar Tom Hiddleston, took to the boards for What I Wrote’s press night… and even a handful of performances prior.

Perhaps most remarkable about Hiddleston’s – and presumably by proxy, all of the guest stars’ – appearance is the extent to which quips, wordplay and set pieces have been developed and attuned to his involvement particularly. From an extended gag about the repeat Avengers titles, ongoing fumbling of his surname (‘Tom Kidderminster’ being, perhaps expectedly, a local personal favourite) to more elaborate set ups such as a full Loki outfit and a physical bit involving stuntwork, this is no simple ‘insert name here’ celebrity flashbangery, and is instead an impressive testament to Foley and his team’s drive and talent to have crafted such an idiosyncratic extended cameo (which runs for the majority of the show’s Act II, no less).

“Perhaps most remarkable about Hiddleston’s appearance is the extent to which quips, wordplay and set pieces have been developed and attuned to his involvement particularly.”

Hiddleston proves characteristically charming, deadpan and self-deprecating, and an adept physical comedian to boot (“I’ve never done comedy…”). He’s tremendous fun and plenty game in a role which sees him doing everything from prancing around on stage in full Marie Antoinette-by-way-of-Widow-Twankey finery, exchanging faux flattering banter with lucky front row audience members, and even sardonically sporting a neck brace after being unceremoniously decapitated (fear not, ‘the doctors did a good job’ of sewing him back together).

But whilst there’s no denying the star wattage Hiddleston and his fellow special guests bring to the stage at the REP, The Play What I Wrote truly belongs to the immensely talented trio of performers who form its core cast. As put-upon electrician Arthur, Mitesh Soni is frequently hilarious as he disappears – and sometimes really doesn’t disappear – into a myriad of roles and bit parts as a handyman roped into a myriad of Dennis’ manipulations and deception. A recurring gag about him longing to play his Harmonica on stage to fulfil the (somewhat troubling) wishes of his (equally troubled) mother is particularly hilarious, showcasing Soni’s razor-sharp precision for comic timing and disarming character work, but in truth he is a scene-stealer throughout.

Herdman and Tuck get tremendous mileage – and a surprising degree of pathos towards the end, too – out of their ‘inspired by’ roles, channelling the frenetic madcap energy of the iconic duo whilst imbuing it with just enough flavour and relish of their own. Both are tremendous; it’s a blisteringly successful and engaging pairing that, coupled with whippet-smart writing from Foley, McColl (prepare the finest use of French artistocratic title ‘Comte’ you could wish for) and a handful of Eddie Braben classics, and the aforementioned organic immersion of its guest star that never feels remotely tacked on, presents a recipe for true comedy gold.

“If I hadn’t have gone into show business, I’d have been an engine driver,” Wise proclaims at the end of his ’66 chat with Auntie Beeb, “so we’ve a lot to thank show business for!”

It’s difficult to imagine a world, and certainly a British comedy scene, without the indelible mark left by Morecambe and Wise, so in reality it feels more fitting to admit that show business continues to this day to have a lot thank the duo for. Over half a Century on, their inimitable clownery, pitch-perfect nouse for character and slapstick genius continues to inspire and live on, and in the raucous, laugh-out-loud, post-modern madcap of The Play What I Wrote, it suggests it will be a long time still before their unique brand of comedy perfection will be forgotten or distilled.

Catch What I Wrote this Christmas and New Year season, not just for the tangible excitement of its mystery guest stars, with a very high bar having been readily set, but namely to watch some wizards of performance, writing and direction cast a comic spell on audiences with a true gem of a show that more than does its iconic muses proud.