Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

This production is so much fun that it’s dangerous. From the hilarious Spanish accents to the outrageous flamboyance, fabulous costumes and brilliant performances, it rarely slows down to catch its breath.  

It starts from the premise of it being impossible to stage in the small box that is the Hayes Theatre, then remarkably pulls it off without a single major prop being moved.

The action swings from bedrooms, to outside apartments, to courtrooms, to recording studios, to high-speed car chases in Madrid in 1987. Helping the audience navigate the action was a screen describing where each scene was taking place – a bit like sub-titles at the opera. So, we could believe that Aaron Roebuck (very handy wth a piano accordion) was driving a taxi even though they were strolling past a double bed.

The stage was surrounded by glittery tape allowing actors to poke their heads through – such as when judges were hearing a court case, and in the car chase scene allow actors to wiggle toy cars with their arms.

The drama begins when manic Pepa (Amy Hack) receives an ambiguous message on her answering machine being dumped by her lover Ivan (Andrew Cutcliffe) – a married stud with a string of mistresses.

There is rhythm in the replaying of the phone message, spunk in the band and sway in the juicy choreography.

There is also lot of drama to take in, figuring out who was screwing who, and what does this all have to with a terrorist plot?

Just when you think they’ve done everything in the Hayes Theatres comes a new surprise. A fire started in the bedroom theatrically embellished by the haze machine  that almost smelt smoky.

There were plenty of hot under the collar action. Sean Sinclair is a dreamy doctor in a pink t-shirt. Carlos (Tomáš Kantor) and Candella (Grace Driscoll) turn a near death experience into a smouldering embrace.

The second act drags a little when two of the leading ladies had long arias to get through – this is not to criticise their artistry but the writer’s lack of brevity.

This is an actor’s musical, with huge (or should I say) chhhuuge helpings of eighties kitsch.

David Spicer

Photographer: Daniel Boud