The extraordinary performers on stage manage to drown out the narrative shortcomings of this new jukebox musical.
With a bounty of doo-wop and R&B classics in their repertoire, The Drifters are a logical choice for a jukebox musical. But it is actually quite difficult to tell the story of The Drifters, simply because their line-ups were in a state of constant flux.
The one constant in the history of the group is their pioneering manager Faye Treadwell. Played by British soul queen Beverley Knight, Treadwell’s story anchors new musical The Drifters Girl. ‘The Drifters are like the Yankees… The players may change but there’ll only ever be one New York Yankees,’ Treadwell insists repeatedly in her legal battles to protect her brand from counterfeit groups.
There is a story here to work with. As an African-American female manager in 1950s/60s America, Treadwell is an anomaly. Ed Curtis’ book is at its most nuanced when Treadwell explains to her husband that their shared Blackness does not mean they experience prejudice equally.
But The Drifters Girl flirts with hagiography (it was conceived by Treadwell’s daughter Tina, after all). Treadwell is the scrappy underdog the audience roots for, always with a sardonic retort to the men who talk her down. Knight does what she can with the role, playing Treadwell as a hard-headed but compassionate manager. But Treadwell is underwritten and little is known about her background and the forces which shaped her. Her relationship with her daughter, occasionally strained by the pressures of work, is used clumsily to inspire pathos.
Knight is most comfortable channelling emotion through song. ‘Follow Me’ and ‘Harlem Child’, two lesser-known songs from The Drifters’ catalogue, are refashioned as big ballads for Knight to sing. The latter, an impassioned plea to make a better life for her daughter, brings the house down. Knight’s singing is pristine. She simply needs more songs.
The show is powered by the quartet of Adam J Bernard (Dreamgirls), Matt Henry (Kinky Boots), Tosh Wanogho-Maud (Dreamgirls), and Tarinn Callender (Hamilton). Shifting characters seamlessly throughout, their performances ripple with energy, dexterity, and humour. In between the constant shapeshifting, each performer manages to own a character (or two): Bernard is Faye’s hustling husband George Treadwell (delivering a sublime, balladic rendering of ‘There Goes My Baby’); Wanogho-Maud conveys the tragic story of the troubled, closeted Rudy Lewis with aching vulnerability; Henry is theatrical founding member Clyde McPhatter; while Callender as Johnny Moore brims with charisma and gifts the audience with pitch-perfect singing (bonus points for nailing the tricky falsetto on ‘Saturday Night at the Movies’). All four could be viable Olivier nominees.
The second act reveals serious narrative shortcomings, labouring towards its predictable conclusion. But the flatness of the storytelling is eclipsed by the thrill of hearing these musical earworms rendered with such aplomb. The quartet’s individually distinct voices blend magnificently on classic songs such as ‘Kissing in the Back Row at the Movies’, ‘Save the Last Dance for Me’, and ‘Under the Boardwalk’. The omission of fan-favourites such as ‘On Broadway’, ‘Some Kind of Wonderful’, and ‘Up on the Roof’ does not matter. The finale, however, does feel curiously lacklustre (and a missed opportunity for Knight to let rip on some up-tempo material).
There are moments where the score is used with real intelligence. ‘Rat Race’ propels an expository sequence where the Drifters revolving-door membership is reeled off to the audience. The warmth and comfort of ‘Come on Over to My Place’ is juxtaposed by scenes of hostility and racism as Faye and the Drifters try and find accommodation during their 1970s UK tour.
Ultimately, the cast (plus the terrific orchestra led by Will Stuart) are the reason to see this show. While the script and dialogue may be lacking, there is no shortage of sweetly-harmonised soul.
The Drifters Girl is at the Garrick theatre, London, until 26 March
