After more than a decade in development, Rosie arrives in the West End, tracing the life of Miss Rosie Boote, one of Edwardian London’s most celebrated Gaiety Girls. Rooted in a real historical figure who lived through a period of shifting Irish–British identity, Rosie has an immanent potential promising a story of self‑fashioning across cultural boundaries, but this one‑night‑only, semi‑staged form hardly delivers that potential.
Chris Broom, who writes the score, book and lyrics, maintains an overall ear‑pleasing soundscape. The overture is cinematic, and songs such as “Broken Dreams” can be easily stirring, reminding you of both Celine Dion and Barbra Streisand. While those songs are accessible, they occasionally fall into something cheesier. Regrettably, in his score‑writing, nothing Irish is interwoven or blended; the numbers sound extremely generic and modern.
Lucy Thomas brings a striking clarity to the vocal character of Rosie Boote, her voice both crystalline and penetrating, but also underpinned with depth that consistently reaches the back stalls. Will Callan, in “Call My Name”, also offers a gentle but firm tone, sitting within the more polyphonic orchestra — where the intention could certainly be better refined to convey the emotional complexity of Geoffrey Taylour.
While the music writing is overall satisfactory, the production could benefit from more thoughtful dramaturgy. Even for its semi‑staged format, Cressida Carré’s direction often feels abrupt and clunky, particularly in transitions. For instance, when Rosie’s father, Charlie, collapses, the staging becomes haunting with dimmed lighting, but the band continues in a merry tone. This lack of cohesion between musical and dramatic languages happens quite frequently.
More significantly, the playwriting struggles to provide a compelling structure or theme. While Rosie Boote’s dual identity remains largely unexamined, the script shows little interest in exploring her passion for theatre versus her religious background, or even the more clichéd “disdained actress” versus “searching for true self”. All those potentially productive tensions give way to her romance with Geoffrey Taylour, the 4th Marquess of Headfort, which again unfolds with forced tension and a chronological recounting. The issue is also compounded by micro‑level writing, often padded with trivial exchanges of courtesy and politeness. Similarly, the lyrics frequently rely on overused imagery like dreams, love and sky, without profound connotation.
This playwriting, in turn, produces a flattened emotional architecture, making Lucy Thomas a wasted gem. Despite her vocal power in several well‑crafted arias, much of the emotional intensity is barely earned and feels barren.
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