Bio-musicals live or die based on the strength of their central performance. Adrienne Warren as Tina Turner, Katie Brayben as Carole King, and Stephanie J Block as Cher all powered lacklustre productions with the conviction of their portrayals.
And Mary Bridget Davies must be added to the list, too, for her fist-pumping, fire-spitting, demon-exorcising performance as Janis Joplin in A Night with Janis Joplin – making its UK premiere at the Peacock Theatre having previously ran on Broadway. Davies was nominated for a Tony Award for her Broadway stint and, if eligible, could be a runaway for the Olivier ‘Best Actress in the Musical’ award. The intensity of her performance as the “middle class white girl” turned blues rocker never falters, consistently meeting the challenging demands of Joplin’s catalogue and uncannily capturing Joplin’s guttural tone. Backed by a splendid band, Davies delivers knockout performances of ‘Summertime’ and ‘Piece of My Heart’ in the first act.
It’s a performance that allows one to largely forgive the production’s wider shortcomings, all of which are typical of the ‘jukebox musical’ genre wherein complex, nuanced, and often controversial figures are flattened by safe and unambitious writing. Framed as a concert set, expository narrative masquerading as Joplin’s stage patter fills the space between songs. It’s superficial, feeling like a truncated Wikipedia entry at times and operating to merely cue songs and offer faux-philosophical musings on “the blues”. One fleeting reference to drug use is as dark as this production is willing to go.
The supporting cast make cameo appearances as seminal soul and blues artists who inspired Joplin, a welcome celebration of Black female musicianship. The production does well to juxtapose the source material – for example, Nina Simone’s ‘Little Girl Blue’, Etta James’ ‘Tell Mama’ – with Joplin’s rockier reinventions (though oddly fails to mention that the signature ‘Piece of My Heart’ was originally done by Erma Franklin).
However, these characterisations feel perfunctory at times, and caricaturish at worst. The way these figures – including Odetta, Bessie Smith, Etta James, and Nina Simone – give Joplin nods and glances of apparent validation feels awfully contrived. A prolonged section where Joplin duets with Aretha Franklin – a performance which, to my understanding, never happened – is an unfortunate way to close the first act; the portrayal of Franklin is, in large part due to the writing, thoroughly unconvincing.
But then Davies gives it her all in the second act. From the cracking of her voice as she scales the opening highs of ‘Cry Baby’, to the devastating ‘Ball and Chain’, Davies is incandescent. It’s an unmissable performance.
