REVIEW: Tina the Musical at The Lyceum, Sheffield
Sheffield and Tina Turner. Not two things you’d naturally associate as having an awful lot in common.
Yet it’s an unlikely fact the Steel City and the Queen of Rock and Roll are forever linked.
The singer’s last ever concert was staged in Sheffield, at the Arena, in 2009. For years, Tina’s dance captain was Eckington-born dancer and choreographer Clare Turton. And it was Sheffield synth maestro Martyn Ware of Heaven 17 who personally helped resurrect Tina’s career, by producing her Grammy-nominated comeback single Let’s Stay Together in 1983.
It’s that unlikely relationship which provides welcome moments of levity in Tina the Musical – at The Lyceum until Saturday, September 20 – an intensely emotional, exhilarating show that features Martyn himself as one of the characters, explaining in a strong Sheffield accent to a bewildered old-school Tennessee Tina that there is no band to provide the music for her rasping, soulful vocals: just his electronic synthesiser.
It’s fitting that Martyn was in London last week to see the curtain come down on the West End run of Tina, just as its UK and Ireland touring juggernaut came rolling (rolling!) rolling (rolling!) rolling into Sheffield.
It’s a spectacular production – high octane, dazzling, very very loud – and French actress Elle Ma-Kinga N’zuzi is fiercely electric (if sometimes indistinct in dialogue) as the force of nature that was Tina.
The story follows Tina’s life chronologically – though, confusingly, the songs do not – from her childhood of cruelty as Anna Mae Bullock in Nutbush, through her rise to fame, her marriage to abusive Ike (played with sinister snake oil charm by David King-Yombo), the violence she suffered, the birth of two sons, her escape, the loss of a recording contract and her career in the doldrums, to her eventual triumphant reinvention as the survivor and legendary 1980s solo star we all knew and loved.
It’s a lot. So while the structure conveys a clear sense of what she endured – and what she overcame – the big biopic jukebox musical approach does sometimes stumble when balancing the darkness with the spectacle.
The first act, in particular, feels slow, the violent scenes a bruising watch, and there are moments of jarring melodrama which detract from the pathos.
Visually and musically, though, it’s a powerhouse of a production. The pared-back set design, lighting, and choreography all combine to create incredible energy and atmosphere: church choirs, smoky clubs, the blinding glare of spotlights, the roar of the crowd.
The wonderful live orchestra makes the show feel part pop concert rather than purely biography.
And by the time we reach the final act, the entire Lyceum on its feet, it’s less theatre, more celebration – of an indomitable spirit and superstar performer who really was simply the best.