Cher Horowitz, the central character in Clueless, is one of the most irritating heroines in the history of movies. She’s a rich, slim, beautiful Beverly Hills princess obsessed with parties, boys and clothing brands. According to her, the world’s problems can easily be settled by using the solutions she applied to the seating plan at her dad’s birthday dinner. But Cher is also a creation of genius because she draws us into her life and makes us understand the raw, damaged reality that lies behind her superficial perfection. She’s not a privileged brat. She’s all of us.
At the start of this musical remake, Cher takes us on a tour of her luxury home. ‘The Greek columns date all the way back to 1975,’ she says. At school, she befriends Tai, a geeky newcomer from New York, and she fosters a romance between Tai and her friend, Elton. Cher is already in love with her stepbrother Josh but she can’t see that. Meanwhile she develops a crush on the chic, fashion-loving Christian who has no interest in women. He’s gay. But Cher can’t see that either. And because we know more about Cher than she knows herself, we feel concerned and protective towards her. We’re desperate for her to be happy and we get anxious and scared if her life goes awry.
It’s a brilliant psychological trick by the movie’s author Amy Heckerling, who also wrote the dialogue for this pacy, stylish update. Everything you loved about the movie is here. The fashions, the hairstyles, the brand names, the cheesy slang. All the great dialogue is preserved too. When Christian shows up to escort Cher on a date, he glances around the family mansion. ‘Nice pile of bricks you’ve got here,’ he says to her father. He fires back. ‘If anything happens to my daughter, I’ve got a 45 and a shovel.’
The cast are superb. Max Mirza is outstanding as the geeky heart-throb, Elton. Romona Lewis-Malley does brilliant work as the clumsy, sweet-natured Tai. Isaac J. Lewis (as Christian) shows off his fabulous array of talents as a dancer, an actor and a comedian. He crackles with star quality and he nearly steals the second act from Emma Flynn (Cher) but she triumphs in the end. Hers is an irresistible performance.
You may be hesitating between Clueless and Mean Girls (at the Savoy) so here’s the choice. Mean Girls is a chunk of ice. This show is full of warmth, mischief and fun.
Backstroke by Anna Mackmin is a family drama that opens with the elderly Beth suffering a near-fatal stroke. A hospital visit by her daughter, Bo, inspires a series of flashback scenes. Mother and daughter are oddly mismatched. Bo is a serious, hardworking and successful writer while Beth is a dippy but adorable tapestry-weaver who never makes a penny from her work. Everyone knows someone like Beth. An artist who fails professionally but succeeds at the game of life. Celia Imrie, perfect casting, specialises in dreamy, quicksilver characters who shimmer across the stage like ornamental sylphs. That’s Beth. She’s also full of practical wisdom. Poetry, she says, is ‘just lists masquerading as art’.
Romantically, she’s a magpie who grabs whatever she needs. In her sixties, she calls herself an ‘alabaster muse’ and she’s convinced that she can out-dazzle all her female rivals. And because she believes it, she makes it happen. And she’s smart enough to realise that her photographer boyfriend is selling shots of her naked figure as pornography. Tamsin Greig’s Bo keeps the show grounded in reality with a naturalistic portrait of enduring love that perfectly complements Imrie’s starry and capricious flights of fancy.
Even cynics will find it hard not to shed a tear at the climax of this dazzling, heart-rending play
The show wouldn’t work on television. Too pretentious and insufficiently realistic, perhaps. It almost doesn’t work on the Donmar’s narrow stage because the clunky hospital bed dominates the playing area. And the flow of the drama is interrupted by jerky video sequences and recordings of a child bawling hysterically over the loudspeakers.
The show’s most vibrant and hilarious passages take place in Beth’s ramshackle kitchen which has been squeezed in next to the first row of seats. Quite a strange sight. World-class actors delivering great performances in a playing area the size of a family tent.
Never mind. This is not to be missed. The character of a Beth is a strikingly original creation. She belongs in the fine tradition of disruptive and verbally dextrous female characters that includes Judith Bliss, Lady Bracknell and Beatrice from Much Ado. The show ends with Beth’s funeral where Bo lists everything her mother taught her. How to plant marigolds in a bed of carrots. How to arrive at a party endearingly late. How to make perfect pastry with cold hands. Her most important lesson: ‘Life is unfair.’
Even cynics will find it hard not to shed a tear at the climax of this dazzling, heart-rending play.
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