Rehab: the Musical review

Grant Black – son of veteran lyricist Don Black and collaborator with Craig David, Van Morrison and Run DMC – had his own experience of checking into rehab 30 years ago, after a messy divorce and a taste for cocaine took their toll. This 1990s-set musical, co-written with Murray Lachlan Young and Elliot Davis and directed by Gary Lloyd, offers a humorous twist on the well-worn rehab-to-redemption format.

Our protagonist is Kid Pop, an egotistical pop star who has been papped doing coke and officially pronounced a “wanker” (also the title of the opening number) by a judge and jury. “I did say no to drugs, but they didn’t listen,” a swaggering Jonny Labey arrogantly announces when he joins the circle at the Glades rehab centre.

While the story follows Kid Pop’s journey from coked-up wanker to clean wanker (he isn’t all that likeable), the more developed character is his love interest Lucy, a stripper with a heart of gold, played with sensitivity, pathos and powerful vocals by Gloria Onitiri.

So far, so cliché. But then the plot of Elliot Davis’ book gets twisty. Kid Pop’s shoe fetishist manager (Keith Allen, entertainingly dastardly, though he’s scarcely a singer) hatches a plan to revive Pop’s career, and the other characters he encounters in rehab prove to have some quirkily unexpected proclivities. Tanning-booth addiction anyone? Lloyd’s production picks up energy and momentum, with some delightfully odd characters.

Rob Jones’ costumes reflect both the era and personality of the characters. Those in rehab transition from grey to yellow joggers as the show progresses and they become addiction-free. The colour scheme is echoed in Andrew Exeter’s set, with simple, adaptable metal frames dividing the space so that we can see behind the walls in the claustrophobic centre.

Black and Young’s lyrics are patchy; the refrain “How do I get from here to Disneyland?” in Lucy’s song about scraping together enough money to take her son on holiday feels like unnecessary filler, whereas her number Museum of Loss, about a lifetime of sadness, is gently moving, even if its metaphors are strained. A ditty about the delights of cheese, performed by twinkling Andy Brady as food addict Eric Normal, is filled with whimsical humour.

Lloyd deftly marshals his large cast, and his choreography fills every corner of the thrust stage with dynamism – it’s easy to picture the show at a larger venue. But while the supporting characters have their own satisfying trajectories, it’s our main protagonist, oddly, who lets us down. He simply doesn’t evolve enough and needs a moment of salvation and a loveable flaw to make us care.