Ride the Cyclone

Ride the Cyclone

An eclectic, high-voltage wild ride you’ll want to experience again

It’s easy to see why Ride the Cyclone has developed such a cult following, though I will confess that I hadn’t heard of it before the run at Southwark Playhouse was announced. With book, music, and lyrics by Jacob Richmond and Brooke Maxwell, the show introduces us to the class of Saint Cassian Chamber Choir from Uranium City.

I’ll save the full synopsis until the end and instead dive straight into what makes this production so special. Edward Wu, as the Amazing Karnak, begins the show as a fortune-telling automaton in the vein of Zoltar. For a deadpan robot, I absolutely adored this character; both on the page and in Wu’s performance. His dry delivery, especially when offering crucial information just a bit too late, is genuinely hilarious. While the choice to have him positioned above the stage adds an air of omnipresence, I couldn’t help thinking he might be even more effective if placed to the side in a more visible position. It was a real shame he didn’t have a musical number of his own; I would have happily watched an entire song exploring his hopes for the future.

The show has a bit of everything, as each remaining choir member gets their moment in the spotlight, showcasing their dreams, desires, and inner lives. Jack Maverick as Ricky was a particular standout for me. His number was unlike anything I’ve encountered in musical theatre; more suited, perhaps, to a David Bowie-inspired fever dream. Space robot cats, a pole disguised as a giant cat scratch post, disco balls, a sequin suit… whatever you’re imagining, it barely scratches the surface. Maverick had the entire audience howling, and I would genuinely return just to experience that number again.

Other musical moments include Ukrainian rap, opera tinged with bayou jazz, and everything in between. The eclectic nature of the score allows each character to feel distinct, yet still part of a cohesive whole. Baylie Carson plays Ocean, a somewhat bossy and intentionally unlikable character, and the mix we see on stage is rather special, particularly as several cast members are making their professional debuts.

One aspect that really stood out for me was the show’s refreshing approach to identity and sexuality. Modern theatre can often feel heavy-handed in this department, but Ride the Cyclone manages to present it naturally and without fuss. Damon Gould as Noel delivers a beautifully realised song about the life he wished he could have lived, channelling a Parisian cabaret version of Marlene Dietrich. It’s a moment that leaves many in the audience with jaws hanging open. Later, when our tough-guy character Mischa (Bartek Kraszewski) is teased about their brief kiss, he responds in a matter-of-fact way, and the show allows the moment to pass without spectacle. Later still, the two share a bottle of vodka. No grand declarations, no forced cheer, simply genuine representation that doesn’t hijack the story.

I don’t use the term masterclass lightly, but this production genuinely feels like a priceless piece of theatre for any students struggling with group work. Each character has a clearly defined personality, their musical styles differ, their choreography is unique to them, and yet a strong common thread ties them together. On that note, Lizzi Gee, as both director and choreographer, must have worked tirelessly to shape this production, and it has most definitely paid off.

While the sightlines on this thrust stage are generally fine, some of the projected imagery was difficult to see from the sides, meaning a few visual details were lost depending on where you were seated.

The synopsis makes the show sound deceptively simple; which is exactly why I’ve saved it for last. Six children die in a tragic accident, and in a purgatory-like state they must decide which one of them gets to return to life. But to see it live is to experience something far richer, stranger, and more heartfelt than that can possibly suggest. This production is imaginative, touching, riotously funny, and defiantly original.

Photo Credit: Danny Kaan