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Music & Lyrics: John Robinson Book: Colin Scott & Melinda Walker Director: Tony Craven Choreographer: Conchita Del Campo Cast: Sheila Ferguson (Gypsy), Robert Fardell (Prisoner), Mark McKerracher (Jailer) In 1669 in bizarre and mysterious circumstances, an unknown man was secretly masked and imprisoned for life by Louis XIV of France. He died in 1703, having been in four different jails, but in the custody of Monsieur St Mars the same jailer. The Prisoner was allowed the best of everything and given anything he desired other than human companionship; but he was not allowed to discuss his identity or the reason for his imprisonment. St Mars was sworn to secrecy in fear of death. Due to the indiscretion of the Jailer, a Gypsy becomes entrapped in the relationship between the two men.


Type de série: Original
Théâtre: Duchess Theatre (Londres - Angleterre)

Durée : 2 semaines
Nombre : 23 représentations
Première Preview : jeudi 21 juillet 2005
Première : mardi 02 août 2005
Dernière : samedi 20 août 2005
Mise en scène :
Chorégraphie :
Commentaires : Notes: This show was greeted with unanimous hoots of derision and disappeared within three weeks. Some of the critical comments were: “Absolutely all expense has been spared on the skimpy set”; the leading man spends the whole show “in headgear that makes him look like a mix of Darth Varder, Hannibal Lecter and a charred parrot”; “in a supposedly erotic dance, Feguson wafts her skirt as if she is measuring up for curtains and talks of love and passion as though checking off a shopping list”; “to suggest it is plain terrible does not do justice to its sheer, gothic relentless awfulness”; “The
prisoner’s big number is called Touch Me’. Given this show, the phrase that
comes to mind is ‘not with a bargepole’”.
This show joined the legendary group of the most awful West End shows ever.
Presse : FIONA MOUNTFORD for THE EVENING STANDARD says, "..wretchedly overamplified production and the actors seem to have decided to conserve energy by expressing no emotion whatsoever in speech or song.."
PAUL TAYLOR for THE INDEPENDENT says, "There were weird, vacant moments when it seemed to run completely out of steam, as though, like its audience, it was losing the will to live."
LYNN GARDNER for THE GUARDIAN says, "Nobody comes out of this with any real credit, although Ferguson does at least inject some energy into her musical numbers."
BENEDICT NIGHTINGALE for THE TIMES says, "The music sometimes has a pleasant Lloyd-Webbery lilt, but the lyrics are mostly vile and the sudden twists of behaviour would take platoons of psychologists to unravel."
CHARLES SPENCER for THE DAILY TELEGRAPH says, "It's so bad that it is merely unendurable.There's no insane flourish to its mediocrity, no sublimity to its awfulness. It is just relentlessly, agonisingly third-rate." "

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