Why Am I So Single?

(seen at the afternoon preview performance on 31st August 2024)

For those who write musicals, every new one is another pull on the slot-machine handle. Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss hit the jackpot first time, second time is always trickier... who remembers “Via Galactica” after “Hair,” for example?

Their “Six” is a model of compact originality. Over 80 minutes we are served earworm after earworm, introduced to a supportive community of ex-wives who include us in their extended family, making us look forward to another reunion as soon as time and ticket buying funds allow.

This does about half as much in twice the time. Supposedly trying to create a “big fancy musical” for agent Fay Ginn, Marlow and Moss go the route of parody again - of showtune formats rather than pop stars. Sadly, a route so well-trodden it is lined with strip malls to service traveller needs. 

Their first big problem is that not only do the songs not sound particularly like musical genre parodies, but the only cheers raised are when original snippets of “Wicked” and “Oliver!” are introduced.

The only truly memorable number is “Interlude in B Minor,” closing the second half... and the monkey realised on second hearing the reason it stuck: it is near-identical to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “There’s a Pig” from his musicals “Jeeves” and “By Jeeves.”

For the rest, numbers which stood out during the ‘public workshopping’ week at Sadler’s Wells Theatre last September feel diluted on the West End stage. 

Dropping the alienating “father dies of cancer” sub-plot is the best thing the creative pair did (the monkey did in fact mention to them it wasn’t the most palatable story, when it sat in front of them at that workshop). 

Problem is, “Lost,” which was a strong song about a mislaid pullover / bereaved child searching for her father, now has hugely diminished emotional impact without context. It elongates the final quarter of the show rather than being a cathartic climax.

Oddly too, stand-out workshopped number “Disco Ball” (which, the programme states, ‘went through 75 different versions’) for some reason does not quite explode the way it did back on Rosebery Avenue.

They also manage a highly offensive “Men R Trash” which, for a show begging inclusivity is simply undermining the central argument. Aside from failing spectacularly the “substitute any other group and see if it is offensive” test, it destroys any nuance answering the key question for one of the main characters.

Think about it: if you are a heterosexual female who hates men, you will remain single because you will not like the very group you claim to be drawn to. In fact, leaving the theatre the monkey overheard, "if they both want to know, look in the mirror."

So, the book is uneven at best, and the music is for the most part indistinguishable. This is a show heading for disaster? Not quite so fast. Cast, staging and some of the one-liners and well-constructed call-backs to earlier buried material are a joy.

Taking them in order. Jo Foster (Oliver) has been with it since the start, and it shows. Their spiky lovability is key to holding the whole thing together. They are never short of a clever retort, and rarely flounder in delivery. 

In fact, it is noticeable where director Lucy Moss fails to give Foster the means to get the response they require. More experience would tell Moss that an occasional “clap with ta-da” delivery would elicit the noisy applause Foster is seeking.

Also, Foster will hopefully stop walking through their apartment wall quite so often (a pet monkey peeve at all shows, unless watching ‘Ghost The Musical’).

As Nancy, Leesa Tulley is the perfect find. If she hadn’t shot herself in the foot by adopting misandry, she would know that she is simply irresistible. Spectacularly bright, quick-witted and empathetic, so many possibilities thrown away.

With very few other named cast members, the ensemble take on a huge number of characters both human and furnishing. Moi Tran (set) and Max Johns (costumes) go for a BBC sitcom (think 1980s “The Young Ones”) approach. Every stick of furniture has a human animated equivalent. Though it is dropped quickly in the first half before it gets wearing, the impact is wonderful fun.

Johns’s costumes are equally clever. Pre-transformation (no spoiler), Oliver’s cartoon heart-print top is a brilliant contrast with Nancy’s realistic human heart sweatshirt transfer. We know exactly where each is coming from emotionally.

Visual jokes abound. Tying in with the “Oliver!” theme, the bar is “Olive A Twist” according to the window signs. Fridge magnets suggest “live, laugh, sob,” with a reminder to buy “prosecco, prosecco, Pringles, prosecco.” Pizza delivery is by “Eats, Glorious Eats”.

So much thought has clearly gone into every aspect of the show, but so little of it seems to have gelled since that try-out season. The action doesn’t really arrive until 30 minutes in, and dramatic tension expires some 30 minutes before the end. 

Probably at least some 16 to late 20-something “Friends” target audience fans will relate on a deeper level to the emotional dilemma; but in a wider audience the whole does rather feel like it is mostly asking a question that doesn’t need asking – and seems to answer it in one short mid-show exchange.

The monkey appreciated the zinging and sophisticated lines, staging and performances enough not to truly condemn the show, but it just wishes they had fulfilled, by editing more thoroughly, the promise shown a year ago.