Drum Magazine Issue 2 | Page 50

4 8 Living The Big Life In E15 A dazzling brilliant and original musical which is bound to be a success in 2005 sixty-something Jamaican lady (and personal friend of Delia Smith, as she later reveals) mingles with the audience before the show, mostly by pushing her way along rows of seats causing maximum inconvenience to all in her path – they can’t get enough of it by the way – and then settling down into one of the reserved boxes from where she repeatedly steals the show by offering her random musings on life, the universe and the vagaries of her beloved Royston, and the conditions upon which she permits him to enter her euphemistically-named ‘Gar-den of E-den’. All this provides the perfect cover for scene changes and always leaves the audience torn between the pleasure of the main show and the desire for Mrs A’s seemingly-unscripted offerings to continue. Later gems, which I feel compelled to record for posterity, include a guide to the differences between individual Caribbean islands (“In Trinidad them kyan speak fi singin, and as for Dominicans, me kyan unnerstand a single word them say.”) to thoughts on Sharon, the local prostitute, (“You wanna see her web page. Lawks!”) and a plug for her allegedly- forthcoming album Mature Heat featuring the hit single Sunday Dinner, Monday Breakfast (of which we were given a sneak preview rendition). Now that The Big Life is transferring to the West End, Mrs Aphrodite should surely be given a show of her own as well (perhaps called The Big Wife). The only reason that Empson doesn’t quite steal the show is the remarkable talent of the on-stage cast. Neil Reidman’s mellifluous tones (as Bernie) are comparable to those of Nat King Cole and Harry Connick Jr, with Yaa’s performance as Sybil comfortably matching Reidman’s. Their duet, We Should Be Together, brings to mind the haunting lyrical beauty of Gershwin’s Summertime from Porgy and Bess. This show is not just about the music, though. Almost every song is accompanied by a toetapping dance routine, choreographed by Jason Pennycooke who also appears in the show, in the character of Eros, and turns in a remarkably deft performance wearing a stage-filling pair of wings which in anyone else’s hands might well have