Heathers - back for more Big Fun

★★★

I wrote it in my last review, and I will write it again: Heathers has the best score of a modern musical. Period.

The cast of Heathers, photo by Pamela Raith

It is part of the reason that audiences go cornnuts for the show. Like Rocky Horror, there are unspoken rules when visiting Westerberg; you must cheer at the first sight of the Heathers, clap enthusiastically for the chosen Steve, and where possible, wear plaid. The theatre is awash in bold primary colours, but that is the only thing elementary about the show, which focuses on suicide, eating disorders, sexual violence, and mass murder.

If you’re new to Sherwood, Ohio, Heathers follows outcast and anti-heroine Veronica Sawyer as she navigates a high school ruled by three teenage wrecking balls known simply as the Heathers. When she strikes a toxic relationship with new boy JD, the duo clock up quite the body count by bumping off their classmates and leaving behind forged suicide notes.

Kevin Murphy and Laurence O’Keefe's piece holds up against its 80s setting and is so sharply confident. But, for the first time, the quick quips and comebacks didn't stick the landing as they have with previous casts. Perhaps it's Heathers fatigue or just the way the characters were played. As Veronica, Gerardine Sacdalan is peppy, while Louis Hearsey's JD is unconvincing and feels absent at times.

The first act is filled to the rafters with big earworms, but the second half really came to life thanks to some delicious vocals from Lou Henry as Heather McNamara and Sophie Manners as Martha. They shone a new light on the slow burners "Lifeboat" and "Kindergarten Boyfriend". Meanwhile, Markus Södergren and Beau Jackson almost overplay the terrible twosome jocks Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney, but with almost slapstick comedic effect. Separately, I'd like to "Shine a Light" on Veronica Carabai's marvellous turn as Ms Fleming.

Lighting (Ben Cracknell) and sound (Dan Samson) come together to create freeze frames and slow-mo moments that capture the rollercoaster ride that is teenhood, while David Shields' simple yet nifty set pieces become lockers and 7/11 shelves. The choir of students wears paper 3D cinema glasses as spectators of death, while performing angular choreography (Gary Lloyd), and coloured spotlights establish hierarchy. It's an almost faultless production; durable and satisfying to take in.

Heathers fever is truly still doing the rounds; that much is clear. It just didn't explode like it used to.