Review: Barnum, Richmond Theatre ★★★½

Phineas Taylor Barnum invented the modern idea of show business, or at least he would have claimed he did. His name became a byword for spectacle, humbug and the cheerful conviction that the public would swallow almost anything if the packaging was good enough. Jim Dale originated the role on Broadway in 1980, alongside a pre-Hollywood Glenn Close as his wife Charity, and the following year Michael Crawford walked a nightly tightrope across the London Palladium stage to what one critic called the most sustained standing ovation he had ever witnessed. The tightrope has stayed in every major revival since.

Lee Mead takes it on in this Bill Kenwright touring production, directed by Jonathan O’Boyle. I did not know the tightrope was coming. I noticed him change his shoes and thought: something must be up. Then the whole house held its breath. That moment alone is worth the price of admission.

Mead is well suited to this role throughout, affable and clearly relishing every minute on stage. He performs the dance numbers with real verve, and his warmth keeps even the most brazen humbug feeling like a gift to the audience rather than a con.

What makes this production genuinely distinctive is its musicianship. The cast are actor-musicians, playing a range of instruments across the evening, and there are moments when you forget entirely that you are watching a musical. The effect is of actually being at the circus, with the music rising from within the action. The post-interval opening is pure infectious joy, the kind of number that makes a theatre feel briefly like the happiest place on earth. Oti Mabuse‘s choreography sustains that energy throughout, purposeful and inventive, and the circus skills woven through the production are impressive: trapeze, fire eating, gymnastics, all handled with real precision. Lee Newby‘s costumes are vivid and carefully observed, enhancing the spectacle at every turn.

On a sweltering Richmond night, with the air conditioning doing heroic work, the audience were grateful and generous, and the production rewarded both.

There are moments, though, when all this abundance works against itself. So much is happening simultaneously that the focal point becomes unclear and it was hard to kow where to look.

The book has always been episodic, and sometimes here that episodic quality creates a real problem. People come into Barnum’s life, deals are struck, and then everyone involved simply vanishes, with no sense that any of it mattered or left a mark. Even the marriage suffers from this: we jump across months and years with nothing to suggest how this relationship actually functioned in the spaces between the set pieces. When Charity died, it does not pack as much punch as it could.

It is also worth remembering that Barnum is an affectionate portrait rather than a prosecution. The show is not asking us to judge its subject by today’s standards. For example, the real Joice Heth (here played by an exceptional Dominique Planter) was an enslaved Black woman whom Barnum purchased in 1835, worked until she died, and then charged fifty cents admission to her public autopsy. Here she registers as a quirky early business venture, which may sit uneasily if you stop watching the spectacle to think too hard.

But stop watching the spectacle is something this production makes it very difficult to do. Richmond gave Mead a standing ovation, the circus skills are genuinely impressive, and the musicianship alone makes this worth seeking out on the tour. Step right up.

Images: Pamela Raith