A delightful evening of piercing, clever, timeless classics from the mathematic maestro

Why does a man at the height of his popularity and fame throw it all in to teach an introductory mathematics course to liberal arts majors, or “math for tenors” as he calls it? This is the question the show asks of Tom Lehrer, the genius prodigy whose pithy and humorous songs were, to many, the soundtrack of the 1950’s and 60’s. You definitely know at least one of his songs, most likely The Elements or, my introduction to his work, Poisoning Pigeons in the Park. Indeed, in the packed audience at Upstairs at the Gatehouse, there were many who knew every parodic melody and ingenious forced rhyme by heart.

Francis Beckett’s show succeeds in giving the audience what they came for: an evening of brilliantly-played, well-sung Tom Lehrer classics. Shahaf Ifhar makes for a believable Lehrer, impressively capturing his signature style and voice and handling each sardonic quip with ease. From the off, it’s clear we’re in safe hands with Beckett and co and that this production is one made with love and respect for the man and his work.

Ifhar is ably supported by Nabilah Hamid as Iris, the interviewer/voice of the writer, and Harry Style as the pianist, whose skill and precision is a constant delight. There are moments the supporting singing is slightly weak or flat but it’s not something an audience of this kind of a show minds all that much, caring instead about the commitment and the faithfulness of the choices. 

The show is loosely structured around an imagined two interviews of Lehrer by the same reporter, Iris, one in 1970 and the other in 2000, both trying to answer the question: why did he stop writing? It’s an interesting enough premise, allowing in Lehrer’s views on the power of satire; he approves of Peter Cook’s sarcastic remark that the Berlin cabarets of the 1930’s did so much to stop the rise of Hitler. Lehrer himself also once joked that, “political satire became obsolete when Henry Kissinger was awarded the Nobel peace prize.” The simple answer is that we don’t know why he stopped, but the show offers a few potential guesses: a growing up that left him feeling more angry than able to be humorous; and a simple desire to live the life of a grad student (who never finished his doctorate).

Younger Iris is full of love and admiration for Lehrer, desperate for him to acknowledge his positive impact on so many, even if he wants to dismiss it by saying, “If, after hearing my songs, just one human being is inspired to say something nasty to a friend, or perhaps to strike a loved one, it will all have been worthwhile.” Older Iris seems more frustrated with him for his lack of comment on more modern threats, seeing it as a waste of a talent, of a voice. Once does our Lehrer give us a glimpse of his underlying anger at the world. Otherwise, he remains steadfastly, and lovably, dry and immovable.
There are moments where the looseness of the framing means the in-between scenes feel exposition heavy or slightly contrived. Contrivance in a show like this is anticipated but when some transitions are seamless, others are jarringly artificial–a shame amidst the tripping bounciness of Lehrer’s songs. The choice to play Iris as someone who seems to hold quite black and white opinions also perhaps misses the chance to plumb greater critical depths in the show’s commentary.

But then, that’s not why we’ve all bought a ticket. We want an evening with Lehrer’s masterworks, now that he has generously placed all of them into the public domain, and to hear from the man himself–whether he wants to talk to us or not.