There are no pitched battles on the Brighton shingle; no fleets of scooters and motorcycles tearing down to the seaside for a ruckus; no Phil Daniels, with his skinny swagger and pale vulnerability. But if this show lacks the grit and period authenticity of Franc Roddam’s 1979 film — and, problematically, its narrative clarity — it still has plenty going for it.
Pete Townshend’s magnificent music, the entirety of The Who’s 1973 concept album, sounds blood-rushingly exciting, arranged for an explosive onstage band by John O’Hara of Jethro Tull. And Daniels gets a run for his money from not one, but four Jimmy Coopers, all with belting rock voices and led by Ryan O’Donnell, who, with his wild, wide eyes and brows knit in puzzlement or anguish, sometimes uncannily recalls the iconic screen portrayal.
O’Donnell, George Maguire, Jack Roth and Rob Kendrick each represent a quarter of Jimmy’s fractured psyche as he immerses himself in 1960s Mod culture and struggles to reconcile the conflicting pressures of standing out, fitting in, looking tough and finding love. From the second that O’Donnell appears behind his shiny scooter, parka hanging off his thin shoulders, we’re hooked; he’s sheer charisma, and flanked by his alter-egos, a potent, bruising presence.
Yet despite the efforts of Jeff Young, the writer, to impose dramatic structure and the dynamic direction by Tom Critchley, the whole is fatally flawed. For all the speed the pill-popping Mods swallow, there’s too little impetus to the cartoon-strip of events, and scenes of domestic misery and romantic frustration collide clumsily with a number such as The Punk and the Godfather, in which an idolised rock star appears from nowhere to deliver an impromptu bombastic turn before abruptly disappearing again. And the needless inclusion of extraneous Who hits occasionally lends an unwelcome flavour of the jukebox musical.
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Some sequences are exhilarating. Against the crashing piano chords that open Helpless Dancer, we see Jimmy repeatedly attempt to embrace his father, who rewards him by flinging him violently across the stage. The raw, ragged physicality of Frances Newman’s choreography and Kevin McCurdy’s fight direction is a thrilling match for the music’s power. John Schumacher has a bull-like menace as Jimmy’s brutal dad, and Sydney Rae White is stunning as the object of Jimmy’s desires But it’s the music that makes it all worthwhile, by turns roaring, strutting and euphoric, and always ear-splittingly loud. And that, in itself, is a real rush.
Box office: 08700 606650, to Sept 5, then touring to Oct 3