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Review: The Car Man (Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield / UK Tour)

Review by Sam Waite


⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


Several of Sir Matthew Bourne’s productions, from retold fairytales to film adaptations, aim to bring fresh energy to well-worn stories. With that backdrop, it’s unsurprising that a spin on Bizet’s opera Carmen found its way into his repertoire in the early aughts. In true Bourne fashion, the rule book is thrown out entirely for what can hardly be called an adaptation of that classic tale, with The Car Man borrowing only a tweaked title and some of its score from the aforementioned work, which arrives at Sheffield’s Lyceum Theatre ahead of a tour including a run at Sadler’s Wells.



Cinematic in its storytelling, The Car Man opens on the town of Harmony in 1960s America, where the lives of the ensemble revolve around the garage and diner owned by Dino, whose long-suffering partner Lana and her sister Rita work at the latter. When Dino hires the seductive newcomer Luca to work at the garage, the heads of both Lana and much-harrassed young worker Angelo are quickly turned, welcoming both erotic thrills and horrific violence into their tightly-knit community. After all, in a town whose sign boasts a population of 375, Luca’s entanglements are sure to cause quite the stir.


The music, a mix of Rodion Shchedrin’s Carmen Suite (itself a shortened adaptation of Bizet’s work) and original compositions by Terry Davies inspired by Bizet and Shchedrin, remains impressive decades on from The Car Man’s debut. There is, of course, a distinct thrill in Bizet’s “Habanera” being used to underscore Luca’s flirtatious entrance to Harmony, but Davies’ own work proves equally as exciting and creates just as much investment in the story being told. With Davies also on hand as orchestrator, the score sounds sensational and truly lends itself to Bourne’s dramatic and effective storytelling.



For the Sheffield opening, the role of Lana was danced by Cordelia Braithwaite, as thrilling to watch here as she was in Bourne’s The Red Shoes only months before. Partnered by Harrison Dowzell’s Luca, she brings a brashness and seductive energy to the role which allows the shocking plot twists to feel organic as part of her performance. Likewise, Dowzell is so commanding and present in his work that his descent in the second half is so much easier to connect with, and his introductory antics mocking his fellow workers is endlessly watchable and genuinely compelling. Alongside Danny Ruebens’ very funny, and later very frightening, appearances as Dino, the pair present a thrilling affair onstage, their sizzling chemistry a strong match for their mesmerising movement.


Acting once again as both director and choreographer, Bourne continues to demonstrate his singular talents as a creative powerhouse. While there isn’t total silence from the company, there is no scripted dialogue in any traditional sense, but Bourne’s storytelling through movement is second to none, and there is rarely if ever doubt in what is supposed to be happening. When Lana first locks eyes with Luca, her immediate response can be read clearly at the very back of the room, but under Bourne’s careful guidance the show’s intimacy and sense of genuine eroticism never waver. Every movement, be it a dance step or simply a character walking around in the background, is so precise and fully thought out that it feels organic, as if this near-wordless world is coming to life before the audience’s eyes. 



Rounding out the leading players, Kurumi Kamayachi does a fine job in the part of Rita, bringing contrasting senses of naivete and knowing to the younger of the sisters. Meanwhile, Leonardo McCorkindale’s fine work as Angelo brought great depth and sympathy even to the character’s earlier, more one-note victimhood, before morphing into something utterly unsettling in the darker second act. Surrounding these leading roles, the ensemble are endlessly skilled, bringing to life all manner of scenarios and instilling every moment with whatever touches of laughter or passion they may require.


This being a Matthew Bourne production, the dancing itself is obviously first-rate. Every member of the company is in fine form, bringing the requisite musculature and physicality which make much of Bourne’s work so compelling to behold. Seductive and spectacular when called for, nuanced and delicate when not, Bourne’s choreography shows no signs of ageing, and his blend of classical ballet and modern technique continues to prove fresh and exciting, more than two decades on from The Car Man’s premiere. Bringing this set of characters to vivid life, this is dance at its most characterful, and at its most commanding.



Bourne’s immaculate command of narratives through movement is aided by the production’s bold visual identity. Lighting designer Chris Davey bathes sultry scenes of passionate lovemaking in a deep red, an effect even more impressive when this same hue is used to denote a retelling of a deadly crime, carefully placed to cover only those involved in the flashback in that bloody red even as dancers in the present overlap them. Elsewhere, Davey brings the hot summer days to rich and brilliant life, and allows night to descend starkly yet authentically over Harmony as nocturnal dalliances threaten a delicate equilibrium.


Lez Brotherston, designer of both sets and costumes, adds well to this visual persona. Dino’s Diner, in particular, is brought to life in rich retails while allowing plenty of space for Bourne’s daring choreography, and a moment of drag racing among the mechanics and factory girls is brought to life through a dynamic mix of his and Davey’s work. The costumes are just as impressive, denoting a change in financial situations for the second act after rooting the story firmly in a working class community from the first act’s earliest moments.



A welcome return for a show whose reputation absolutely precedes it, this revival tour of The Car Man cements both its own and its creators’ legacies in reshaping how modern audiences view dance productions, and stands tall as a fine example of how well-told a story can be through dance alone. Directed by a master of his craft who seems poised to continue moving from strength to strength, this immaculate remounting is truly not to be missed.


The Car Man plays at the Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield until July 25th, before opening at London’s Sadler’s Wells Theatre




Photos by Johan Persson

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