Barnum at Richmond Theatre

A celebration of live performance where the actor-musicians steal the show

The arrival of Barnum at Richmond Theatre feels like a natural fit. The theatre’s beautiful Victorian architecture, particularly its traditional side boxes, blends seamlessly with the production’s circus aesthetic, making it feel as though the venue itself has become part of P.T. Barnum’s travelling show.

Lee Newby’s set is dominated by a huge red and white striped big top backdrop, framed by a false proscenium complete with an elephant’s head above and mermaids to either side. Both decorative elements are cleverly referenced as the story unfolds, rewarding audiences who notice the details. However, I found myself distracted by the backdrop itself. From my seat it appeared almost like a painted wall rather than fabric. The distressed pattern was so uniform, and the surface so smooth, that it lacked the natural creases and movement I’d expect from canvas. It wasn’t until later in the production that it became obvious it really was cloth. It’s only a minor observation, but it did initially lessen the illusion.

The production is directed by Jonathan O’Boyle, with choreography by Oti Mabuse and Matt Nicholson, while George Dyer provides new orchestrations and musical supervision. One of the show’s greatest strengths is its actor-musicians, who collectively perform on more than 150 instruments throughout the evening. Their versatility is consistently impressive, often seamlessly switching between instruments while remaining fully engaged in the action.

There are also some genuinely enjoyable circus moments scattered throughout the show. The magic illusions are well integrated rather than feeling like standalone tricks, and the tightrope sequence provides one of the evening’s visual highlights. These moments remind you that Barnum is at its best when embracing spectacle.

Unfortunately, the production itself struggles to compete in a post-The Greatest Showman world. Although both works are inspired by the life of P.T. Barnum, they tell rather different stories. Audiences inevitably arrive with expectations shaped by the film, and this production doesn’t always do enough to distinguish itself. It references the famous museum fire but never really bridges the narrative gap that follows. Alongside Barnum’s presidential campaign and several other plot developments, it occasionally feels as though important pieces of the story have been skipped over.

Lee Mead takes on the title role of P.T. Barnum, opposite Monique Young as Charity Barnum, with Penny Ashmore as Jenny Lind. While technically accomplished, I never quite connected with Barnum himself. The character talks constantly about humbug, showmanship and selling dreams, but the performance often comes across as stressed and surprisingly grumpy. Barnum is a character who lives or dies on charisma, and for much of the evening that larger-than-life personality never quite arrives.

Ironically, many members of the ensemble seem to inject more warmth and personality into the production than the central performance. That changes somewhat after the interval, particularly during the opening number, where the energy noticeably lifts and Barnum finally begins to display some of the charm that had previously been missing. It’s a shame that this shift arrives so late and short lived, because it demonstrates what the production could have been throughout.

One small choreographic choice also caught my attention. During “There Is a Sucker Born Every Minute”, Barnum uses his arms to represent the hands of a clock. From the audience perspective, the movement runs anti-clockwise. It’s a tiny detail, but I’ve always preferred seeing that choreography performed clockwise, as it feels far more natural to watch.

The production also includes a clever false ending that certainly fooled a number of audience members. Several people immediately reached for their phones and started filming, believing the show had finished, only for the performance to continue moments later. It was an amusing theatrical trick, although perhaps also a reminder that theatre etiquette still has some way to go.

Overall, Barnum remains an entertaining evening with strong musicianship, impressive circus skills and an attractive production. However, in today’s theatrical landscape it needs a central performance overflowing with charm and larger-than-life personality to truly sell Barnum’s vision. This production has flashes of that magic, particularly after the interval, but never quite sustains it long enough to become the spectacular show it clearly wants to be.

***

Photo credit Pamela Raith