There is absolutely no doubt that Kinky Boots will shove a bit of verve into your day. In its way, it is hugely entertaining – with such an explosion of colour, energy and noise, it would be hard to come away unmoved – but the musical itself has about as much subtlety as a dinosaur in suspenders and, while this is the point of the drag theme, it means that any of its poignant moments not only get lost, but seem so out of place as to appear disingenuous. And that’s a shame.
Based – rather loosely – on a true story that was turned into a 2005 Britflick of the same name starring Chiwetel Ejiofor, the plot follows Charlie who, upon his father’s death, resentfully returns to Northampton from the bright lights of London to run the ailing family shoe factory. Given the dire state of the books, something completely radical is needed to start making profit and, after bumping into a drag queen (named Lola) with a broken heel outside a club, Charlie decides that he will use his factory to produce thigh-high boots of such quality that they’ll hold even a man’s weight. Hence the blossoming of a predictably unlikely partnership in which the floppy-haired provincial pushover with a hereditary dose of sentimentality gives meaning to the life of a dazzlingly glamorous, decadently risqué drag queen. Musical: sorted. And with this nice formula, you can always tell what’s about to happen next so you won’t have to worry about employing your brain at any point.
This hasn’t stopped Kinky Boots being a massive hit in the States, earning six Tony Awards following its stint on Broadway. The script comes courtesy of Harvey Fierstein (La Cage Aux Folles), with music and lyrics by Cyndi Lauper (of jaunty hits like ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’). Both therefore have a modicum of clout but, despite a few memorable moments, the quality is somewhat jagged. The words dip between witty and cringe-worthy, and bar a couple of serious power numbers, the music sounds like angry teenagers singing early-Naughties pop; Avril Levigne’s eyeliner would fit in nicely to many tracks, as would Ronan Keating’s strange Irish-American drawl. It’s not that the sentiments aren’t laudable (to say the least) but with the cast belting out lyrics like ‘Just be who you wanna be’ it’s hard to see past the jazzy smiles through to the message with sincerity in tact.
Matt Henry is the shining light in this production. As Simon from Clacton, aka Lola the showgirl, he is charisma personified: the fix of his jaw, tilted just so, the glistening of his eyes, his infectious smile – everything – make him utterly believable. Your eyes fix on him the second he comes on stage – if Lola’s there, it’s going to be ok, you feel. And amidst the hilarious flamboyancy of this character, there are devastating moments, like when he enters the factory for the first time: dressed in a three-piece tweed suit and brogues, wig gone, make-up entirely dumbed down bar some highlights and those perfect eyebrows, Simon’s eagerness to fit in to his new workplace, even at the cost of his own comfort – his armour – is absolutely shattering. The way Henry moves between comedy and poignancy is mesmerizing. And kudos not only to his powerhouse of a voice, but his ability to walk – and dance – in heels.
That goes for all of Lola’s angels too – a sort of Victoria’s Secret drag troupe with bodies better than most of us, a peculiar ability for movement in ridiculous heels and costumes that look like doll-sized, sugared versions of traditional garbs: the Beefeater, cricket whites and Westwood-esque Anglomania outifts in the finale earn extra note.
The ever-beige Charlie isn’t the most stirring character, and even in Killian Donnelly hands (Les Miserables and much more), there is little to inspire apart from an instinctive sense of protection for one so feeble. Strangely enough, when Charlie suddenly explodes with frustration during the show’s climactic rise, this abrupt change in temperament just makes him look like a douchebag rather than a pained hero – why is the Time-Nice-But-Dim being so mean to everyone around him? Maybe it’s growing pains as those vertebrae develop, but most people had some nerve to begin with, mate, so there’s no need to take it out on the rest of us.
Light relief comes in the entertaining form of Amy Lennox as Charlie’s co-worker and love interest. As dainty as she is goofy, the miniature blonde bombshell is outrageously funny to witness and does capture the gleeful silliness of the show.
The finale had people dancing in the aisles so you can’t deny that this is a crowd-pleaser. The production is slick, the cast is reasonably strong and there are many things to recommend Kinky Boots, but the way the words (both written and sung) are smashed in your face does rather bulldoze the overall effect, which could be a hell of a lot more touching than it ends up being.
Kinky Boots at the Adelphi Theatre until 2016. For more information and tickets visit the website.
