THEATRE | I Should Be So Lucky, Leeds Grand

PHIL KIRBY went, and again didn’t really write a review…

ISBSL at LGT Credit Aaron Cawood

In my imagination, there is no hesitation about saying you should see I Should Be So lucky at Leeds Grand Theatre.

It’s camper than a camporee of incomparably camp campaigning campanulators. (That’s one for the comms team at The Grand; break out the dictionary Kelly!)

It’s got more hits than the bullseye at the Sheriff of Nottingham’s archery contest. (Sorry, last thing I saw was Robin Hood at City Varieties, so I’m still in panto mode.)

And if it’s escapism you’re after, it’s more escapy than if The Great Escape, The Escape From Alcatraz, and Escape From Witch Mountain got bundled into a rucksack, flung in the back of a getaway car, and screeched away into the sunset… Ok, that image may have been a bit of an irrelevant mess of a mixed metaphor, but you get the picture.

As the bloke behind me in the theatre last night said as we were on the way out, “Bloody marvellous. Right took my mind off things…Just what the doctor ordered.”

And, apart from the unforgivable platitude, that’s precisely it. 

I Should Be So Lucky is perfect, top-notch, five-star entertainment.

Escapist? Absolutely. 

But, right now, there’s plenty to escape from, isn’t there? 

Anything promising an escape from present reality is surely a good thing? Even for an hour or two. Even with a couple of hundred strangers in the dark (many of them unwrapping Werther’s Originals all the way through…) warbling along to tunes they may not have heard for thirty years, amusingly misremembering the lyrics, and swaying along infirmly with the dance moves. That’s my idea of a good time.

Why not temporarily escape into the world of mid-’80s, early ‘90s poptastic, glittery, feel-good fun? It’s good for the soul. Good for the mind. And good for the good of your health.

I wish my doctor would order me tickets for a dose of I Should Be So Lucky.

Wouldn’t it be great if I Should Be So Lucky was available on prescription, at all participating pharmacies.

You could stick I Should be so Lucky in a syringe and Pfizer would be begging for the formula. (Sorry, that gag may get me in bother with the conspirationalists amongst us.)

I could go on. 

And, yes, I know the music of Stock, Aitken and Waterman may not be everyone’s cup of cacao. It’s not mine. Back in those days I was listening to Cocteau Twins, My Bloody Valentine, and Slowdive. I was proper shoegazey. Can’t imagine anyone managing to make a musical out of that. But I was surprised how many songs I (thought) I knew the lyrics to from I Should Be So Lucky and could sing along with. Badly. 

And, perhaps the narrative of I Should Be So Lucky is somewhat deficient in the credibility department. If only the couple getting married had had a two minute conversation before the big day, as would have been realistic, the whole drama could have been avoided. The plot is frankly clueless.

There’s also a very risque joke about a particular form of ethnically specific cranial manipulation that felt a little jarring (I did wonder if anyone would be calling the taste and decency police to initiate an investigation.) 

Ah, who cares? It was all done in the best possible taste. (I know Kenny Everrett was slightly befor SAW but I’m old and the past all merges into one…)

I’ve heard that some people write reviews in the vain delusion that anyone would give a monkeys about their opinion. 

I don’t think anyone reading this should give a shit about what I think. Care a crap. Donate a dump. Produce a poop… there I go again…

So, don’t listen to me. Get yourself a ticket. I’m convinced you’ll have a ball. Singing’s astonishing, dancing’s delightful, and the acting is… bugger, I’ve run out of alliteration. The cast is brilliant. But let me know what you think…

If you don’t love it, what’s wrong with you?

If that’s the case I’d recommend seeing your doctor.