Note: TWE reviewed  ‘Sister Act the Musical’ earlier in its current tour. Given that this is the same touring production, what follows is a revised version of that same review, updated for its visit to the Wolverhampton Grand.

Pre-pandemic, the musical theatre scene fizzed with something of a buzz for an announced revival of Sister Act The Musical promising something of a twist. Not only would it be overseen by OG ‘Deloris’, Oscar-winner Whoopi Goldberg, but so too would it be a hybridised version of the stage musical, intercut with some of the jukebox hits from the film.

And then? Enter COVID-19, stage left.

Four years on, it seems that perhaps God does, after all, move in mysterious ways. For whilst ‘Act’ MkII would have no doubt been an interesting curio to visit, and few would likely have denied the appeal of seeing Goldberg back involved in the habit, on the merits of this most fabulous new London and touring production that materialised, our stagey prayers were answered, anyway.

Wisely abandoning much of the tinkering and restyling done by Craig Revel Horwood in his 2016/17 tour of the show – not least of all its somewhat divisive ‘actor-muso’ infusion – Sister Act 2023 brings itself much closer in line with the original, celebrated West End production. Like the film that inspired it, it tells the story of washed-up lounge singer Deloris Van Cartier (Sandra Marvin) who, after witnessing her gangster boyfriend murdering a mole, goes on the run and, eventually, into hiding in a struggling nunnery.

“Sister Act takes so much of the fish-out-of-water hijinks that made the film such a smash and dials them up to eleven…”

On stage, Sister Act takes so much of the fish-out-of-water hijinks that made the film such a smash and dials them up to eleven, as brass, sassy Deloris butts heads (and, indeed, butts) with the convent’s no-nonsense Mother Superior (Lesley Joseph) whilst forming an unlikely and wholesome friendship with the Nuns about her. Characters grow. Lessons are learnt. And, for the stage, it’s all given a glitzy, sequinned gloss thanks to being transplanted to the ’70s. A move that lends a perfectly apt disco styling, only solidified by Alan Menken and Glenn Slater’s terrific score that offers echoes of everything of the era from Studio 54 to The Jackson Five and even a soupçon of Marvin Gaye.

The show’s got good, groovy ‘bones’, then. Which always helps, but a show as spunky, funky and funny as Sister Act will live or die by its cast. So praise whatever deity gives you your ‘Sunday Morning Fever’, then, for the utterly joyful ensemble of this latest Act. Without any egress or sensationalism, this is one of the most divine companies you could wish to watch treading the boards (and raising the roof).

Front and centre is the ever-fabulous Sandra Marvin, who, vocal powerhouse as ever, proves herself a formidable comedienne here, too. It’s a quite perfect blessing of performer and role, and right from her toe-tapping, scene-setting double-whammy opener of ‘Take Me To Heaven’ and ‘Fabulous, Baby!’, you know from the outset that not only are you in safe hands, not only has this Act got its Deloris down pat, but a damn high bar has been set that, amazingly, Marvin’s co-stars manage to routinely play up to, as well. It’s giddying fun to revisit the tour many months in and see Marvin continuing to plough every scene and set piece for new beats of sass and funny, and taking her numbers to new places, too; see a particularly soulful rendition of the titular ballad this time round, for instance.

Lizzie Bea continues her ascent as a leading lady of the stage on the rise, with a beautifully observed take on the timid but kindly Sister Mary Robert. Her Act II soul searcher, ‘The Life I Never Led’ is breathtakingly strong.  Alfie Parker makes for a loveable Eddie, benefiting from one of the evening’s best and funniest numbers. On a similar note, special mention must go to Castell Parker, who stepped in for the performance reviewed to cover the role of TJ – one of a trio of bumbling henchmen – and put in a superb, soulful performance alongside Damian Buhagiar and Tom Hopcroft, all of whom were on hilarious form stealing scenes (and hearts!) aplenty.

“It’s giddying fun to revisit the tour many months in and see Marvin continuing to plough every scene and set piece for new beats of sass and funny…”

Catherine Millsom and Anne Smith take on Kathy Najimy and Mary Wickes’ supporting Nuns from the film, and they are each utterly joyous and hilariously cranky, respectively. And you can’t help but be bowled over by the wonderful Lesley Joseph, still belting out the numbers and cutting a rug at the venerable age of 77. Joseph felt notably more confident in and vocally resonant in the role of Mother Superior this time round, too (having first played Sister Mary Lazarus to Jennifer Saunders‘ Mother Superior), and is a hoot during the cantakerous, unglamorous frustrations of ‘Haven’t got a prayer’. And naturally, being the complete pro that she is, Joseph handled a minor staging malfunction during that very number with consummate wit and flair.

For somewhat mystifying reasons, Morgan Large’s otherwise showy and suitably vibrant staging is noticeably pared back for its residency in Wolverhampton and these later tour venues. Some visual flourishes – such as Deloris ascending on a giant glitter ball for her ‘Fabulous, Baby!’ reprise – are notably absent, and entire portions of the set’s framing have been chopped, leaving the stage occasionally feeling a trifle bare when it ventures too far from the convent. It’s still a funky, glitzy piece to look at, though, and despite some of these noticeable edits, it looks great framed within the Grand auditorium. It’s just a pity to see it stripped back from its former, dazzling opulence.

There remains, of course, plenty of fun character beats and staging wrinkles to enjoy – watch as Deloris’ ‘sisters’ pop out from inside cupboards, beneath beds and other peekaboo surprises, in a move reminiscent of the postmodern quirks of Marianne Elliot‘s recent revival of Company.

“It’s difficult to imagine a more consistently uplifting, irrepressible and entertaining evening of musical theatre…”

These minor quibbles aside though, for the most part everything here just works. And does so at such a consistently high level, it’s difficult to imagine a more consistently uplifting, irrepressible and entertaining evening of musical theatre.

We almost didn’t get this glittering, pitch-perfect incarnation of Sister Act The Musical. This transcendent joyful noise of camp, colourful fabulousness. And, whilst there will likely always be some with a modicum of curiosity as to what form the previously-announced hybrid Act could have taken, and ponder how successful chopping up Menken and Slater’s score to make room for jukebox classics may have been, on the basis of this gorgeous cast, still-glitzy presentation and all-round divine treat that is Sister Act The Musical, one can’t help but have another tried-and-test homily spring to mind, too.

Namely – if it ain’t broke, don’t crucifix it.

The term ‘star vehicle’ is bandied around perhaps a pinch too often in this digital age of insta-celebrity and influencer fandom.

Yet there’s little doubt that it is exactly what 1992’s The Bodyguard proved to be, with its art-imitating-life framing of the late, great Whitney Houston as a headline-grabbing pop-star in need of protection from a dangerous stalker, as she swirls her way through an album launch and Oscar nomination.

Its transplanting from screen to stage is unsurprisingly effortless – the film’s titanic, record-breaking soundtrack did all of the leg-work then (courtesy of Houston’s powerhouse lungs), and continues, for the most part, to do so here. As with its cinematic predecessor, the central tale and formula of Bodyguard is predictable to the point of almost being rote; rich, entitled yet well-meaning megastar has gruff, handsome protector type thrust upon her, and the initial animosity and frostiness between the two eventually blossoms into a romance that will have everyone reaching for the hankies over come the finale.

It doesn’t even attempt to break the mould or really flesh out too far beyond the blueprint of the film, but nor does it really need to. It’s accessible, effective and entertaining, pitched perfectly for the hen do and girls night out crowds (if you’ll forgive some over-generalisation). Director Thea Sharrock and design team Tim Hatley, Mark Henderson, Duncan McLean and Richard Brooker certainly put on a show – from pillars of flames erupting from the front of the stage to expansive projections and rapid edits selling the pop concert vibes (if slightly by way of The X Factor/Britain’s Got Talent), Bodyguard makes good on its Hollywood and pop concert trappings, even if there are some noticeable cut corners on the extravagance this time round. It even gets some punchy moments of shock and brief horror neatly tucked in throughout for good measure, too.

“A romance that comes across now a little formulaic, though it is undoubtedly what the vast majority of the audience will be there to see…”

But it is, first and foremost, a love story, and there’s no shaking that the raw, forbidden trespass of passion and profession between Houston and Kevin Costner felt a lot more daring back in the early 90s. It’s a romance that comes across now a little formulaic, though it is undoubtedly what the vast majority of the audience will be there to see (along with, naturally, a Whitney-esque belt or two).

It feels oddly dated elsewhere, too. See the clumsily regressive handling of its LGBT characters in particular – cookie cutter cliches of campy cattiness, for the most part.

To put it plainly, we’ve seen it all before.

But, again, with The Bodyguard, that’s sort of the point.

So all eyes (and ears) tend to fall on appraising how good each individual production’s Rachel Marron is. The separation between character and actress in the film was practically non-existent, so it’s unsurprising that, outside of its West End debut (where musical theatre goddess Heather Headley first steered the ship), touring productions of Bodyguard have tried to inject some of that Whitney duality synergy by having ‘IRL’ pop-stars take on the central role. From Beverley Knight to Alexandra Burke, what has been fairly consistent is the calibre of vocal chops they’ve hung pretty much the entirety of the show on.

On paper, hiring Pussycat Dolls star Melody Thornton for this latest tour makes a lot of creative and commercial sense. Actual proven chart-topper and pop star to portray the fictional chart-topper and pop star? Check. Someone who knows the show and has already portrayed the role before? Check.

A vocalist and performer with the vocal and acting range to carry such a monumental show with such colossal sings? Well, let’s explore that for a moment…

It’s often said that the measure of a good musical theatre performer, or indeed any performer, is the degree of confidence that they are able to imbue into their audience. A stalwart of the boards will break down the barriers of apprehension and suspension of disbelief, and assuage any doubts about any of the big numbers or challenging choreography ahead.

For the first half of the performance reviewed, it has to be said that Thornton didn’t quite deliver on this. There’s no doubting that she possesses a strong, soulful voice, but there was a reticence and restraint to her performance that made each inevitable big ballad an uncertain thing. It isn’t great to be watching The Bodyguard and having trepidation over whether or not your Rachel Marron is going to go for the big notes or play it safe.

It isn’t just the singing, either – supposedly high-energy, performative showstoppers such as ‘Million Dollar Bill’ and ‘How Will I Know’, despite being a touch over-choreographed here, still felt strangely languid and unenergised. The fantastic swing and ensemble gave it their all, but Thornton seemed to be holding back.

“…spinning, twirling and bopping her way through a kinetic, buoyant curtain call, you can’t help but ask ‘where was this Rachael Marron for so much of the show?’”

Now, with all that being said, for what can only be surmised by this particular writer as Thornton perhaps pacing herself and not wishing to over-exert ahead of the big tentpole moments that close out the show, she positively came alive for Act II, giving searing renditions of ‘One Moment in Time’ and, crucially, the iconic ‘I Will Always Love You’. And spinning, twirling and bopping her way through a kinetic, buoyant curtain call, you can’t help but ask ‘where was this Rachael Marron for so much of the show?’ By close, it becomes patently obvious that Thornton has ‘it’, and is a great fit for the role, but it’s perhaps debatable whether the actualisation of this comes a little too late in the day.

Around her, Ayden Callaghan is solid as the gruff, no-nonsense Frank. It’s a fairly thankless and slightly under-written part, plastering blanket stoicism over any major development or depth, but Callaghan is a suitably brooding and handsome foil. He gives good deadpan, and certainly offers up the physicality required for the role. The talented Emily-Mae, meanwhile, continues a long-running Bodyguard trend of having the role of Rachel’s sister Nicki threaten to steal the whole show from under her.

And there’s not really much more than that to The Bodyguard. It’s consummate popcorn entertainment pushed through the mould of the musical: light, predictable, ‘poppy’ fun. Sure, it benefits immensely from having some of the best pop classics of the past few decades as its soundboard, and it looks and feels like a quality piece of theatre craft throughout. But with cookie cutter characters and little invention or embellishment beyond what was already a pretty formulaic script, this is a show which lives or dies by its casting.

On current form? It’s still likely a must-see for those who are ardent Houston enthusiasts or admirers of the film, of which there are countless. But even on those grounds, it’s a somewhat inconsistent outing this time round, with plenty of strong, belting highs, but more than a few languid, breathing lows, too.

For everyone else? If unpretentious nights of jukebox fun are your thing, then go for the tunes and the unapologetic, frothy entertainment factor of it all. Stay for a central performance that, whilst initially hesitant and restrained, and not the most dynamic or instinctive of acting turns, eventually blossoms into something far stronger and more affecting.

It takes some getting there, and it isn’t a journey without some hesitation and doubts, but come the curtain call, there’ll be few left in the auditorium not bopping along to Thornton, and welcoming her as a (mostly) fully-fledged Queen of the Night.

Pre-pandemic, the musical theatre scene fizzed with something of a buzz for an announced revival of Sister Act The Musical promising something of a twist. Not only would it be overseen by OG ‘Deloris’, Oscar-winner Whoopi Goldberg, but so too would it be a hybridised version of the stage musical, intercut with some of the jukebox hits from the film.

And then? Enter COVID-19, stage left.

Three years on, it seems that perhaps God, after all, does move in mysterious ways. For whilst ‘Act’ MkII would have no doubt been an interesting curio to visit, and few would likely have denied the appeal of seeing Goldberg back involved in the habit, on the merits of this most fabulous new London and touring production that materialised, our stagey prayers were answered, anyway.

Wisely abandoning much of the tinkering and restyling done by Craig Revel Horwood in his 2016/17 tour of the show – not least of all its somewhat divisive ‘actor-muso’ infusion – Sister Act 2022 brings itself much closer in line with the original, celebrated West End production. Like the film that inspired it, it tells the story of washed-up lounge singer Deloris Van Cartier (Sandra Marvin) who, after witnessing her gangster boyfriend murdering a mole, goes on the run and, eventually, into hiding in a struggling nunnery.

“Sister Act takes so much of the fish-out-of-water hijinks that made the film such a smash and dials it up to eleven…”

On stage, Sister Act takes so much of the fish-out-of-water hijinks that made the film such a smash and dials it up to eleven, as brass, sassy Deloris butts heads (and, indeed, butts) with the convent’s no-nonsense Mother Superior (Lesley Joseph) whilst forming an unlikely and wholesome friendship with the Nuns about her. Characters grow. Lessons are learnt. And, for the stage, it’s all given a glitzy, sequinned gloss thanks to being transplanted to the ’70s. A move that lends a perfectly apt disco styling, only solidified by Alan Menken and Glenn Slater’s terrific score that offers echoes of everything of the era from Studio 54 to The Jackson Five and even a soupçon of Marvin Gaye.

The show’s got good, groovy ‘bones’, then. Which always helps, but a show as spunky, funky and funny as Sister Act will live or die by its cast. So praise whatever deity gives you your ‘Sunday Morning Fever’, then, for the utterly joyful ensemble of Act ’22. Without any egress or sensationalism, this is one of the most divine companies you could wish to watch treading the boards (and raising the roof).

Front and centre is the ever-fabulous Sandra Marvin, who, vocal powerhouse as ever, proves herself a formidable comedienne here, too. It’s a quite perfect blessing of performer and role, and right from her toe-tapping, scene-setting double-whammy opener of ‘Take Me To Heaven’ and ‘Fabulous, Baby!’, you know from the outset that not only are you in safe hands, not only has this Act got its Deloris down pat, but a damn high bar has been set that, amazingly, Marvin’s co-stars manage to routinely play up to, as well.

Lizzie Bea continues her ascent as a leading lady of the stage on the rise, with a beautifully observed take on the timid but kindly Sister Mary Robert. Her Act II soul searcher, ‘The Life I Never Led’ is breathtakingly strong. Similarly, veteran actor Clive Rowe takes his moment to shine (quite literally) and knocks the audience out of their pews during his ‘I want’ piece. Jeremy Secomb, as the villainous Curtis, similarly belts for the back rows, ably supported by Damian Buhagiar, Tom Hopcroft and Bradley Judge on hilarious form stealing scenes (and hearts!) as his bumbling three cohorts.

“Lizzie Bea continues her ascent as a leading lady of the stage on the rise, with a beautifully observed take on the timid but kindly Sister Mary Robert.”

Catherine Millsom and Anne Smith take on Kathy Najimy and Mary Wickes’ supporting Nuns from the film, and they are each utterly joyous and hilariously cranky, respectively. And you can’t help but be bowled over by the wonderful Lesley Joseph, still belting out the numbers and cutting a rug at the venerable age of 76.

It almost becomes redundant to attempt to ‘critique’ Sister Act The Musical. Morgan Large’s set and costume design are just that – big. Bill Buckhurst and Alistair David play with numbers and set pieces that could easily be languid or familiar and let their freak flag fly. See as Deloris takes to the skies aboard an enormous disco glitter ball during the reprise of her feisty ‘Fabulous’ signature. Or as her ‘sisters’ pop out from inside cupboards, beneath beds and other peekaboo surprises earlier in the same number. ‘If you feel it,’ Marvin belts during one of the show’s favourite numbers, ‘why conceal it?’. It seems a fitting mantra for this heavenly revival as a whole.

“Everything here just works.”

Everything here just works. And does so at such a consistently high, dazzling and impressive level, it’s difficult to imagine a more consistently uplifting, irrepressible and entertaining evening of musical theatre.

We almost didn’t get this glittering, pitch-perfect incarnation of Sister Act The Musical. This transcendent joyful noise of camp, colourful, soulful fabulousness. And, whilst there will likely always be some with a modicum of curiosity as to what form the previously-announced hybrid Act could have taken, and ponder how successful chopping up Menken and Slater’s score to make room for jukebox classics would have been, on the basis of this gorgeous cast, stunningly realised spectacle and all-round divine treat that is Sister Act The Musical, one can’t help but have another tried-and-test homily spring to mind, too.

Namely – if it ain’t broke, don’t crucifix it.