This version of the Richard Gere and Debra Winger movie in which trainee US Navy pilot Zack falls in love with factory worker Paula against a background of tough training and military life at the US Naval Aviation training facility in Florida is the fairytale we expect of musicals, although not necessarily modern life. The gender bias in the story can make the modern audience uncomfortable, as do homophobic slurs, which could have easily been cut from the script. But these are gripes with the era and the original script, rather than this buoyant rendition which delights the audience at Canterbury’s Marlowe Theatre.

Keisha Atwell plays Casey Segar, the first woman in history to be accepted to fly a jet, and her dance performance is no less impressive, as she switches from move to move with as much crispness as an origami shape.

Set to a soundtrack of eighties hits, the cast blast through Bon Jovi’s  Livin’ On A Prayer, Madonna’s Material Girl, Blondie’s Heart of Glass and of course the epic Up Where We Belong, Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes’ tune that shot to fame on the back of the 1982 film. The singing is excellent, with Emma Williams as Paula and Jessica Dailey as Lynette having particularly potent vocals.

Despite potential misgivings, which say more about the eighties than they do of this representation, the Marlowe audience seems to be in raptures, giving the cast a standing ovation as the final song renditions belt out.

Marlowe Theatre, Canterbury

‘Ain’t nothin’ more fun than rock’n’roll.’ A line said once, but a sentiment repeated throughout Million Dollar Quartet, the ninety minute jukebox stage show that tells the story of a night in December 1956 at Sun Records, Memphis. Four stars, Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis gathered and improvised music together in the studios owned by Sam Phillips, the man behind Sun Records and the guy who had given each their break.

It’s a true story. There’s photos of the foursome together, Sun Records released the recording, and a next day newspaper report in the Memphis Press-Scimitar – the headline from which the play takes its title. But it’s also the stuff of myth and legend, blurring the lines of fact and fable, and that kind of magic creates a good night out.

All the music is played live, and you can feel the quiver through the streets from the off as a there’s a quiffs and riffs explosion on stage as they break out Blue Suede Shoes, Hound Dog, Walk the Line and Great Balls of Fire. Casting Ian Talbot’s production must have been tough, requiring musicians, actors and entertainers, but it’s a success.

No one artist is celebrated more than another. Jason Donovan has changed since I last saw him as Scott in Neighbours, but his powerful performance as Sam Phillips reinforces that he is far from being a one strand soap star. Ashley Carruthers as Jerry Lee Lewis is incredible, a real piano virtuoso with fingers that flicker with rhythm. Robbie Durham performs as an authentic Johnny Cash, his voice and demeanour reportedly emoting the man himself, and the voice of Katie Ray as Elvis’ girlfriend Dyanne a breathy revelation.

In his quest to ‘find the boy beneath the hit’ (Carl Perkins, played by Matt Wycliffe) or help the ‘hillbilly turn Hollywood’ (Elvis Presley, played by Ross William Wild) Sam had fun – but also challenges. Banter flies across the stage, whisky hits the throat, and the songs are played with gusto and skill. But as the business and pleasure of Sun records merged, friendships and loyalties were tested, and the ‘father of rock’n’roll’ lost out to RCA and Columbia when his boys went onto bigger things.

But were they better? The lives of the four are well known. Drugs, depression and industry manipulation cast a damp light on the musical careers that they had once adored. Career wise things were great ‘but I wish those boys had a little more happiness’ he implores to the audience. The benefit of hindsight is a wonderful thing, and knowing nods and sighs from the audience replaces their glee for a few moments. The social and political context struck me, a millennial living in the south east. The youth may well have been listening to rhythm and blues, but ‘Negro music wouldn’t sell’ and so the face of it all had to be handsome white men. Beneath the bravado of them all was vulnerability and romance that was carefully portrayed.

As we’re called to ‘have some fun tonight’ Elvis Presley’s hips aren’t the only ones shaking.  Jerry Lee Lewis, legs on the piano as he played a tune cries out in challenge to all the naysayers: ‘Rock’n’roll’ ain’t a fad, it’s a damn revolution.’

And one that has lasted.  As the entire crowd is on their feet, voices singing out and there’s a Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On, this is a celebration of good times indeed.

Running at Canterbury Marlowe Theatre until Saturday 4^th 2017.

Read more at WOWKent.

The 1759 novella was first adapted for the operetta stage 60 years ago by Leonard Bernstein, Hugh Wheeler and Richard Wilbur (here they use the John Caird Royal National Theatre version of 1999) and remains as witty and entertaining as ever.  An Enlightenment satire on wealth, class, politics and philosophy  or – ‘metaphysico-theologico- cosmologico-panalogy’ – it is all of course very pertinent to our age and era. Essentially it is a musing on the meaning of life, and the lengths we go to seek happiness and perfection, even whilst we long to believe that right now we are those things – or in the words of the refrain of philosophy tutor Pangloss, who essentially shapes the narrative and outlook of the characters, we are in the ‘best of all possible worlds.’

The stage is sparse, but atmospheric in its simplicity, with the white costumes and white sails of the ship not only being a metaphor for the purity and naivety of our protagonist Candide (Mark Siddall), but cleverly used in the casting of shadows and glimpsing of the orchestra.

Narrated by Voltaire and Pangloss (both played Stephen Russell) we, and Candide, embark on a journey through the full gamut of human personalities; the evil acts of misogyny, rape, prostitution, bribery and disaster; relationships; place; society – and all guided by Pangloss’s Russian doll-esque theory of meaning, that combines faith, determinism, free will and teleology to arrive at the conclusion that everything that happens is perfect and planned in this ‘best of all possible worlds.’ Unlike Candide however, we’re not so blindly optimistic.

Russell brilliantly keeps the play hung together and moving, sharp and attuned. Mark Siddall managed to keep his eyes impressively wide as the green Candide, and had perfect deadpan comic timing. Emma Morgan is both sweet and worldly as Candide’s lover Cunegonde, with a gymnastic soprano voice that echoed around the space. The vocal layers of solo performances, choruses and the orchestra create a beautifully harmonious collective that carries Bernstein’s music well.

The music is bright and frivolous, with the opening and closing numbers in particular bursting erumpent off the stage. In fact, the 14-piece orchestra under the baton of Matt Gould is nigh on flawless, and one of my highlights of the show. It’s a playful performance, and although the silliness and hyperbole of the script not to everyone’s taste the company do well to make it accessible and relevant. At three hours total, it’s quite long for an amateur production, but then Sedos, Voltaire and Bernstein don’t perform like amateurs. As an introduction to the genre, writer and just as an evening of rousing entertainment, they succeed.

Almost the best of all possible outcomes to my experiment then.