Sunset Boulevard

Savoy Theatre, London

Verdict: Buy the best ticket you can afford

Rating:

Nicole Scherzinger nails it from the off. Any doubts I had about a Pussycat Doll playing Hollywood’s answer to Miss Havisham were banished pronto.

The early tune, With One Look, sees Scherzinger, as the mighty Norma Desmond, rip off her sunglasses and, in a tornado of stage haze and white-hot spotlights, roar an ear-popping showstopper.

The room leaped to its feet. Fading Pop Star becomes fading film icon, to dramatic perfection! I gasped – losing a full mouthful of gin and tonic to my shirt.

Forget Billy Wilder’s hammy noir original, and the lavish productions of this Andrew Lloyd Webber musical we’re used to. Here is a thrillingly fresh and surprisingly dark revival.

For my money (and for a good seat do bring a wheelbarrow of it) this is the show of the year.

The classically romantic score remains, melting over a slightly clunky plot about a reclusive, deluded silent movie star who ensnares a young writer called Joe, so he can polish her comeback screenplay. Over the course of two-and-a-half hours she loses her marbles, and he loses his life.

Director Jamie Lloyd, who’s been toiling at his stripped-back and moody style of revival for years, has finally hit the sweet spot. No lavish costumes, no intricate set. Just live camera work, a ferociously big star, and an even bigger band.

The lighting is almost exclusively bright white, which designer Jack Knowles harnesses in the most magical way. It pulsates, hides and reveals, using the thick stage mist.

Dominating the view, though, is an enormous screen, giving us haunting, live close-up shots of the actors in front of us… melodramatic glances, fluttering lashes and big bulbous tears. Scherzinger even delivers a pouty over-the-shoulder look right down the barrel.

It’s a perfect marriage of psychological trauma and camp. Think Pinter, with a bouncy brass section and expressive dance. Or opera, if it were watchable. Norma’s dramatics are put in what feels like a real world.

Scherzinger will rightly get a low-loader full of awards, but so too should her co-star Tom Francis, as poor Joe. Both are vocally flawless. Both deftly balance the histrionic and the genuinely heartbreaking, the playful and raw.

They take their bows dripping in fake blood and genuine, hard-earned sweat.

David Thaxton as Max, Norma’s creepy keeper, has a chilling baritone and Grace Hodgett Young, as rival love interest Betty, brings a well-sung, wide-eyed innocence.

Act 2 begins with the most extraordinary sequence following Joe backstage. As the symphonic entr’acte belts from the pit, he’s beamed to us wandering through the dressing rooms, past Nicole, past a loaded gun… and out into the street!

Now singing the title number, he passes startled drunks and bewildered tourists, eventually returning to the auditorium for the triumphant final note. Down fell my drink again, as an Omicron wave of goosebumps ripped through the stalls.

I can see this Sunset dividing audiences. When has genius not? A few couples darted for the exit in the preview I saw. ‘Cast illness’ has postponed my eager return.

But, as soon as the remortgage is through, I’ll probably cough up for a third go too. After all, Nicole is waiting – ready for her close-up.