The cast's energy in its final (staged) 'encore', when The Commitments sang the much-awaited 'Mustang Sally', was mirrored in the response of a rump of Oxford's New Theatre's audience who danced in the aisles. These enthusiasts, likely fans of the 1991 film (dir. Alan Parker) adaptation of Roddy Doyle's 1987 novel, did not need the coercion of Mickah (Sam Fordham), the band's 'head-the-ball' security man, a role he relished at the band's first gig at the local Barrytown community centre. Barrytown, the fictional north Dublin working class suburb, spawned the band as immortalised in the first of Doyle's Barrytown Trilogy.
The book, written largely in dialogue and laden with soul lyrics, is ideally placed for expansion to sound and vision. Written by Doyle, the stage version leans more heavily on the musical turns than the narrative but retains much of the original (a little more PC) Dublinese banter. Soutra Gilmore captures the 1986 setting from Jimmy Rabbitte's cramped home to the grimy rehearsal and performance spaces, and her costume design documents the transitions in The Commitments' short-lived career.
Andrew Linnie turns in a really credit-worthy performance as would-be impresario Jimmy Rabbitte. After auditioning a shower of unsuitables, he successfully builds up a rag-taggle band of soul brothers and sisters, chosen more on raw instinct than musical talent (a Workers' Party voter is a shoo-in). Rabbitte and Joey 'the Lips' Fagan (Alex McMorran), the middle-aged, name-dropping trumpet player who successfully 'gets off' with the three gorgeous Commitmentettes, believe soul is democratic: the music of politics, sex and the music of the people. Rabbitte also equates the Irish, Dubliners, and North Dubliners as oppressed: 'the Blacks of Europe', 'Ireland', 'Dublin', and North Dublin' respectively. The band don't quite grasp his 'I'm black and I'm proud' line but go along with the plan to bring soul to the people of Dublin, and Dublin to soul. The transformation from awkward amateurs to polished musicians works well. Unfortunately for Rabbitte, any ideological motives for the band and the music quickly dissolve in personal politics, and no cajoling can hold the characters in check as his progeny implodes.
Frontman Deco (Brian Gilligan), whose wonderful voice is eclipsed by his overarching 'trumped up' ego, overthrows any semblance of democratic unity in the band. Gilligan, a great singer, projects the talent and annoying showmanship of his uncharismatic character. We get why the band needs him, and we get why they hate him. The three women (Amy Penston, Leah Penston and Christina Tedders) who play Natalie, Imelda and Bernie are no supporting act: the singing and movement of the Commitmentettes really rock the soul of this show. The whole ensemble (unlike the alter-ego band) is cohesive and, a bonus for old Corrie fans, Kevin Kennedy (aka Curly) puts in a nice little turn as Jimmy's Da.
The bottom line with this show: although the whole thing is a bit sewn-together, if you like the music, you will love the show. But be patient. Like the growth of the band, the enjoyment creeps up on you and to ensure you don't leave on a low note, the feel-good factor is thoroughly bashed into the last exhilarating 'loud and proud' ten minutes.
Colette Lardner-Browne