Thriller Live, Lyric Theatre, London
(Rated 4/ 5 )
Reviewed by Michael Coveney
Monday, 26 January 2009
Is it a musical? Is it just a juke-box compilation show? Do we expect narrative complexity in our new musical theatre? Is there a life for pop music within the proscenium arch beyond Mamma Mia!? Or shall we resort to revivals of Sondheim and hope for the best from Andrew Lloyd Webber?
All of these thoughts go racing through your mind – well, actually, they don't – when sitting through this immensely enjoyable compilation of the Michael Jackson catalogue. Somehow Jackson, and his sibling quintet, passed me by, as they happened, but now I'm suddenly all grooved up on the Jackson Five and the high points of Michael's best-selling discs.
This is great stuff. It makes you want to move around in your seat. I did do that and nearly got arrested for moving around in the seat right next to me. Not my fault. We had to get up and get down in an audience participation re-tread of "Shake Your Body", and some of us did.
Others resisted. One irate critic even berated the great Tito Jackson (the bass player) for turning up late at his own show. What else was he supposed to do? We thought Janet might show, but she didn't. We made do instead with a whole host of television celebs, Vanessa Feltz as well as Girls Aloud and actors from Hollyoaks. And then we all had to join in a number called "Get On the Floor". Enough said.
It's a shame that Gary Lloyd's production has no theatrical justification whatsoever, but the presentation is so enjoyably theatrical that the objection disintegrates. There's a wonderful catalogue of late Motown, blues and early indie rock that covers a whole era of pop music at its best.
It's all laid down with tremendous funk and fusion of lights, sound and dance moves. The onstage musicians under John Maher supply great backing for the company numbers and the fantastic solo contributions of Ricko Baird as the "Thriller" doppelgänger, Ben Foster and John Moabi as the Jackson singers, Denise Pearson as the soul mamma of Motown, and cute Kieran Alleyne as the sly, devilish little Jackson.
There's an excruciating speech towards the end invoking JFK, Nelson Mandela and Barack Obama. This is followed by an "Earth Song" with everyone dressed in white. The show is worth seeing all the same.
http://www.sevenglobal.org/index.php/music/55-europe/326-la-roux-back-to-the-future.html
Having worked together for three years, Jackson and Langmaid began as an acoustic guitar-based band. After a while, they decided to ditch the overrated sound for the synth and reinvent themselves as retro revivalists of artists such as
Michael Jackson,
Annie Lennox and
Depeche Mode.
http://blogs.citypages.com/food/2009/01/pepsi_spends_12.php
Pepsi's message hasn't evolved all that much from the days when Michael Jackson hawked the soda as "Choice of a New Generation." There's one glaring omission though. Whereas Jackson openly endorsed the soda, Pepsi is using its "Refresh Everything" logo (which looks half Nike swoosh, half Obama logo) as if Pepsi was some kind of benevolent, direct vessel to the prez.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/food/article-1127435/Chop-Idol-Now-butchers-got-reality-TV-.html
With all this hardware, protection is pretty crucial, too. I'm wearing a steel chainmail glove, with a surgeon's plastic glove on top to fend off fat.
Like Michael Jackson, I need only one gloved hand - my chopping hand is safe.
'We're losing a lot less fingers these days because of the gloves,' Keith says, as he points out a tiny incision in the pig's skin and through its thick layer of creamy fat. 'They did this at the abbatoir, putting in a tiny little periscope to see how deep the fat is - 10mm on this one.'