In the programme, both writer Steven Sater and producer Park Myung-sung separately explain how Nero was first conceived in 2003 and has undergone numerous development phases. With so many years of work and revision poured into this new musical, it’s hard not to wonder how this UK premiere has emerged as such an unholy mess.
As the title suggests, the story focuses on the fifth Roman Emperor, Nero Claudius Caesar, famously remembered as the man who supposedly fiddled while Rome burned. If you’re familiar with his history, you’ll know he murdered his mother, his brother, and his wife, who was also his stepsister through adoption. We are, therefore, already teed up for a decidedly grisly evening.
Then there’s the incest. Quite a lot of it, in fact, which feels rather ironic given that Nero‘s press night falls as the UK introduces a ban on several categories of pornography, including depictions of incestuous relationships.
That’s not the only irony at play. Here is a musical about a narcissistic ruler whose celebrity, self-interest and hunger for absolute power ultimately prove catastrophic. The parallels practically write themselves. Yet Nero appears remarkably uninterested in exploring them. At a time when discussions around authoritarianism, populism and personality-driven politics feel more relevant than ever, the show never manages to say anything meaningful beyond recounting historical events. Whether by design or accident, it continually sidesteps the sharper observations it seems uniquely positioned to make.
Despite his tendency to murder and sleep with those closest to him, Nero was also known for his passion for the performing arts, regularly appearing as a poet, musician and actor. The challenge for any dramatist is reconciling these contradictory sides of his personality. Whatever the answer may be, it surely cannot be Nero: A New Musical.
What we see feels like a jumble of competing ideas, perhaps the result of those many years of development, thrown together without any clear sense of what the finished piece should be. The opening scene hints at a camp, irreverent musical, with Nero singing into a hairbrush like a rock star while wearing one of his mother’s dresses.
Originally conceived as a play, the production still carries a heavy dramatic structure, and scenes without music are burdened by lengthy stretches of dialogue that sound as though a sixth-form student had been asked to write something vaguely Shakespearean. One moment Nero is a flamboyant circus performer, decked out in outrageous costumes, a kind of Hedwig and the Angry Inch without the angry inch. The next, he is expected to convince as a tyrannical ruler. Neither version ever feels fully realised.
The production lurches awkwardly between broad comedy and historical tragedy. One scene seems determined to chase cheap laughs; the next appears to be reaching for weighty political commentary. It never settles on a clear tone, leaving the audience uncertain about how seriously any of it should be taken.
Georgia Lowe’s sparse design does little to help. Aside from an illuminated rendering of the word “Nero”, seemingly included in case anyone had forgotten which show they were watching, there is little visual storytelling to establish location, atmosphere or dramatic momentum.
The most significant problem lies with Steven Sater’s book. Beyond being surprisingly dull, it provides almost nothing in the way of meaningful character development or convincing dramatic arcs. These weaknesses spill into Lindsay Posner’s direction, which never finds a way to disguise the flaws in the material, while pacing remains a persistent problem throughout.
Scene transitions are particularly awkward. Time and again, one scene simply ends, actors shuffle offstage, a new group enters, and the next begins. The result is a production that resembles a collection of disconnected sketches rather than a cohesive piece of theatre.
Duncan Sheik’s score fares little better. Hamstrung by the material surrounding it, the songs rarely advance the narrative and instead feel like standalone numbers imported from an entirely different show. The musical also marks one of Sheik’s final theatrical works, making it all the more disappointing that his score is so often undermined by the material around it. The energetic Act Two opener offers a brief glimpse of what the musical might have been, but it is quickly overshadowed by an interminable ballad accompanying yet another mother-son incest storyline.
The cast battle gamely through the material but are rarely given the tools to succeed. Too often, they are left looking as though they have wandered into an especially expensive amateur dramatics production. Leading the company is Andrew Barth Feldman, who remains the production’s sole compelling reason to attend. He commits wholeheartedly to the role, delivering an energetic and engaging performance that never wavers, even when everything around him does. Unfortunately, whoever convinced this Broadway star that Nero should serve as his London debut has done him few favours.
Whatever work has been invested in Nero throughout its lengthy development process, it has not been enough. In the end, we have to ask: were the creative team so busy fiddling with Nero‘s development that they failed to notice the show itself was burning?
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