A biographical show that won’t be forgotten, about a woman that can’t be forgotten.
Julie The Musical tells the story of Julie d’Aubigny, an exceptional, French artist from the 17th century. The kind of women that seems to go through five lives in one, the kind of women whose talent changes the course of art, whose life choices, whose freedom challenge the norms of her times’ society, whose heart and passion impact all things, and all people around her. In short, the kind of women that our history books have carefully ignored for centuries. I’m French, and I barely knew the name of this woman. A glorious story to tell, I am so glad I came.
To tell this story, the team opts for some “Theatre de Tréteaux”, in French terms. This theatre genre appeared post Middle Age, hand in hand with the explosion of the fairground culture that these times knew. Buffoons, clowns, circus artists invade the markets, villages, places, parks, quickly followed by theatre makers who decided to leave the walls of classic cultural institutions, and started to perform outdoor on some wooden planks quickly assembled , in basic costumes, with basic props, and a couple of instruments. They aimed to bring performances in public spaces for everyone to attend. In order to travel, it had to be light. To balance the lack of budget, the acting became bigger, more physical, farces blossomed, theatre became popular. It was big, it was loud, it was festive, colourful and unapologetic, and of course it was vulgar to the posh chaste ears of the noble so-called intellectual class. This is an extremely long introduction to say that is what Julie: The Musical is all about. It’s loud, it’s rude, it’s silly, it’s too much and angry, and yet festive, generous, colourful and joyous!
It’s interactive without force, they play with anachronistic references without overdoing it, the set (Rebecca Cox) is simple, stylised with a DIY aesthetic that works very well, enhanced by beautiful lighting design, the costume design (Abey Bradbury) is also humble but coherent and clean, there’s not many props, and the music is played live, which also happens to be a characteristic of that genre: the mechanisms of the performance are showed, no fourth wall there, we’re watching a show. The narration itself sometimes oscillates between true stories and legendary exploits, and yet it doesn’t affect the storytelling that remains strong and clear. In fact, it adds a touch of epic to the piece that tickles our excitement. All in all, form wise, the direction (Conor Dye) is impeccable. The show really ticks all the boxes.
Now that’s where I think a few flaws lie. This show ticks all the boxes of a form we know very well, and unfortunately, some tricks then become a bit predictable. While most of the time, the show is bouncy and the pace flows, some jokes are here and there a bit pushy, flirting with the cliché, and therefore loses efficiency in the first act particularly. I believe that some unexpected acting/staging choices would re-inject some lost grotesque and absurdity to these classic farce comedy mechanisms. It would allow this very dense first act to breathe a bit more and gain some ease. In a play requiring such an over the top interpretation, jumping from scenes to songs to more immersive bits for the audience, some jokes and gags would be more impactful if treated less for the laugh and more for the connection with the spectator. Also, as it’s a form originally for outdoor spaces, the acting register must remain but the general projection needs to be recalibrate when performed indoors, in a quieter, much more intimate space. There is space to play with different levels of agitation and volume to nuance it and surprise us a bit more, in my opinion. It would probably catch our attention less aggressively, and turn us into active listeners without the cast working that too for it. The sound design (India Day) and levels regarding the songs were perfect for the room though.
Besides, if the beginning flows with more ease, it will highlight the dramatic end when things get out of control, and maybe even make some room for an even more explosive acme before this moving conclusion that’s so beautifully tender.
That being said, the cast as a whole is a joy to watch. They embrace the style with full commitment and they are very connected to each other. The interactions with the audience feel authentic and work well rhythmically. They manage to collectively create a warm environment for us to sit in and take in both the content and their energy that’s so communicative: they are having fun and we are too. The musical portion is very well executed and they sound great. This show reveals four performers with quite an outstanding skills, and it is as satisfying to watch as it is impressive. The staging is dynamic, there’s no time to get bored. It’s a very demanding show, and they are on it.
Finally, a massive shout out to Abey Bradbury who not only performs in the show, but also wrote the book and the lyrics, composed the music, created the orchestration, was in charge of the musical direction, and manage to find time and headspace to take care of the costumes on top of that. Everything is so well done, so coherent. The project matters to her, and it shows: it’s well thought through, the text is rich and interesting, it’s formally smart, the language flows, it’s pacy and playful, the show is pretty balanced, the music is varied and sharp, the general aesthetic is realised… she did tick all the boxes, in the best way possible.
This show needs to be seen, this story needs to be heard. It’s definitely a heartfelt and really entertaining piece of theatre. With not much, this team produces an instructive, fun and accessible play, and delivers a performance that’s both strong and bold. Some posh chaste ears may call it vulgarity, I’ll call it grace.