That headline, of course, is Mrs Lovett’s declaration to the customer that finally wanders into her shop after she hasn’t seen one for weeks - and discovers that even she thinks that she’s peddling “probably the worst pies in London.” Last week, I became that customer - no, I’m not referring to my experience at the Vodafone shop in Manchester, where you can’t afford to be in a rush or hurry, either, since even with just two other customers in the vast store (and counting a staff of at least seven) I still had to wait nearly 20 minutes to be served last Thursday. Rather, I became the onstage stooge to Maria Friedman as she sang “The Worst Pies in London” at the Menier Chocolate Factory on Saturday evening.
Of course, having seen the show before, I knew that someone gets chosen - and indeed, a friend who had also been before muttered as we returned to the theatre that some poor sod was about to be surprised. I naively thought I was safe because I was sat towards the back - directly, it turns out, in front of Trevor Nunn (who had directed Maria in her last West End and Broadway outing in The Woman in White). But Maria had spotted me in her second number, when she enters from the rear of the auditorium and had sung directly to me; so she honed in on me. After the show, I discovered from Trevor’s daughter, whom he had come with, that “dad thought she was coming for him!”
But Maria had nunn of that.
And she wouldn’t take no for an answer from me, either - “Oh no, you don’t want me, do you?”, I plaintively enquired; but she did. It’s futile to resist on such occasions, and you have to be a good sport; and at least, unlike a recent victim at a Johnny Vegas ‘comedy’ gig, I didn’t get touched up, though at one point Maria, sitting in my lap, pretends that I have done so to her and hastily leaps out of it! (“I think you’re turning,” she also told me - and the audience - in a public outing!)
The matter of coerced audience participation does, however, raise interesting questions when one becomes the participee - the Guardian blog on the Vegas incident has, as of today, received a staggering 432 responses - and I can only say I was relieved not to have had to be the recorder player who joins Maria in an onstage dance. But frankly, too, I think I’d do anything for Maria; it’s ultimately a question of trust, and whereas Vegas seems to have crossed a line into public abuse and abuse of power, Friedman is merely being genuinely playful.
And thrillingly musical. Her pleasure in being here is transparent - early on, she refers to the season as being “one of the happiest jobs of my life” - and indeed it was one of the happiest nights of my life, too, to be in her company again, notwithstanding my impromptu onstage appearance.
What a difference a day makes! Just twenty-four later, I was hearing ‘Song on the Sand’ again - but alas it wasn’t Maria singing it this time. Instead of the exquisite delicacy that she brought to this slight but tender song, we had Ron Raines giving it full baritonal heft as part of Jerry Herman’s Broadway, a one-night gala tribute to the composer of Mame, Hello Dolly!, Mack and Mabel and La Cage Aux Folles.
The original publicity for this benefit for the AIDS charity Crusaid at the London Palladium promised that Angela Lansbury and Barbara Cook would join Herman himself in the show - but only Lansbury, as it happens, materialised. Herman was reportedly ill, but no reason was given for Cook’s absence. A disclaimer on the original leaflet clearly states, “Please note that Crusaid (Enterprises) Ltd reserves the right to change artists appearing, in the event of unforeseen circumstances. Refunds will only be given in the event of cancellation of the concert”; but it seems disingenuous, to say the least, when audiences found that whereas they were expecting to see Cook, the line-up turned out to be Klea Blackhurst, Ron Raines, Sal Viviano and Melissa Errico.
Weirdly, Errico’s programme biography for the evening suggests she was nominated for a Tony Award for her role in Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George — a show she has never done on Broadway, but did in the 2002 Sondheim Festival in Washington DC (her Tony nomination came, in fact, for the short-lived Michel Legrand musical, Amour in 2002). It’s a small but telling feature when a programme, apparently put together by musical aficionados, gets such details wrong. You start distrusting the entire evening.
Angela Lansbury, twinkling with genuine warmth and rewarded with the audience’s undiluted affection as she played host to the evening, didn’t even get to sing (except in a couple of group numbers), but at least she provided a genuine link to Herman himself, since she had originated the lead roles in his shows Mame and Dear World, as did musical director Don Pippin, who had MD’d the original productions of Mame, Mack and Mabel, The Grand Tour and La Cage Aux Folles. But the rest was a mostly pallid tribute to a great Broadway talent by a group who, Errico apart, are also-rans.
I started to think how much better a locally-produced tribute could have been instead, drawing on people who had real Herman connections locally, such as Caroline O’Connor or Janie Dee (who have both played Mabel in Mack and Mabel here) or Philip Quast and Douglas Hodge (recently in La Cage Aux Folles at the Menier - whatever happened to the transfer plans?). The producer was Barry Mishon, whose own biography in the programme states that he has “production experience spanning over 25 years” and that he “plans to continue producing first-class festivals for 25 years to come”.
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