Bombay Dreams
Apollo Victoria Theatre 2002-2004

Not bad enough to be dire, Dreams is a drab, disappointing effort that misses almost every mark. Admittedly it makes for a pleasant enough evening of unchallenging entertainment -- but this presumably is not what producer Andrew Lloyd Webber expects of this much heralded new musical.

The premise is solid enough. Led by aspiring singer Akaash, a group of misfits and oddballs in Bombay/Mumbai are about to lose everything because the big bad developers intend to build a cinema multiplex on the slum where they live. As such things happen, Akaash is suddenly whisked away to become a Bollywood movie star under the aegis of top producer Madan and his cute but prickly daughter Priya. Throw in buxom screen star Rani, gossip queen Kitty, cocky eunuch Sweetie, sinister Mr Big J.K. and dodgy lawyer Vikram, and things take a predictably downward turn with betrayal and death before righting themselves when love and life reign supreme.

This is a show that rests purely on the sum of its performers' talent -- and the good news is that there's a lot of it about. All your standard Bollywood motifs (and motives) are here and, individually, the scenes work well with the cast clearly enjoying their roles. Comedy is never far from the surface and the frequently throw-away gags produce more than their fair share of laughs.

Raza Jaffrey is engaging as Akaash, bringing an eclecticness to his romantic lead that compensates for an underwhelming vocal ability (dreadful in every number until, unexpectedly, he redeems himself with Act II's powerful and silky The Journey Home). Preeya Kalidas is equally gifted as actress and singer and creates a convincingly sympathetic Priya although one wishes she were better served in the song department -- the torch song Only Love partly compensates.

As Rani, Ayesha Dharker sizzles and bitches her way though what could otherwise have been a one-dimensional sex kitten role, while as long-past-her-sell-by-date celebrity columnist Kitty, Shelley King deftly shows her claws in the patter but could be more over the top. One wonders whether her character might be more usefully deployed as a narrator throughout, providing a more authoritative point of reference to the plot's wandering values. Meanwhile, Dalip Tahil shows the comic side to his Madan with Don't Release Me, a raucous pastiche delivered from his prison cell.

Through no fault of their own, Raad Rawi's J.K. and Ramon Tikaram's Vikram manage entry to division 2 only of the Evil League -- their roles are underwritten and one wishes they had musical numbers of their own. Free of such problems is Raj Ghatak who, in Sweetie, easily gets the best material -- and he doesn't miss a trick. His timing is spot-on in the comedy department and his up-tempo ballad Love's Never Easy becomes a poignant plea from the heart that is heartwarmingly funny at the same time.

Plotwise, writer Meera Syal cannot settle between classic Bollywood or Rodgers and Hammerstein, and the resulting mess is an amateur dramatics rewrite of Rent, not helped by the fact that she has lazily plundered her own back catalogue of characters and situations, plus, perversely, she kills off her best characters. In the music department, A. R. Rahman writes pleasant enough tunes -- some even hummable -- but like Syal he suffers the same indecisiveness over style. Additionally the arrangements fail to build on any sparkle he may offer while Don Black's banal lyrics swiftly kill off any audience connection by line 1, verse 1. (Tellingly, no hit song has emerged from the show.) Staging is unimaginative and displays minimal input from director Steven Pimlott, while -- with the exception of the Bollywood set pieces (you may already have caught the techno Shakalaka Baby on TV) -- the choreography is lazy, lazy, lazy.

The glitz factor too is remarkably subdued and it's hard to see where the reported £4 million budget went. Aside from the opening slum assemblage and the centre-stage pool with occasional fountain effects, the set is a weary series of patchily painted panels, manky curtains and awkward steps. The costumes in particular represent a massively missed opportunity to celebrate Bollywood values -- lacking colour and coordination, they appear little more than a job lot from a saree wholesaler's in Euston.

Basically, if you're going to take a genre renowned for its high-camp drama and larger-than-life extravagance, why bleach out these same elements in the cross-over process? If you want to see how it should be done, catch the eminently superior Fourteen Songs Two Weddings And A Funeral or River On Fire if they happen by your local theatre.

Nick Awde

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Review - Bombay Dreams - Apollo Victoria 2002