Sunny Afternoon - The Kinks rewrite jukebox musicals

★★★★

Even before the show starts officially, the band is up on stage tuning guitars and pianos, hitting cymbals and gearing up.

The cast of Sunny Afternoon, photo by Manuel Harlan

It’s hard to tell whether they’re part of the backstage touring crew and legit techies or if they’re in costumes. With one hand tucked in a pocket, the other is used to swig beer. Black turtlenecks and straight-leg denim jeans are the uniform here - that is, until Tory upper-class managers take the reins and have this new band from London dressing in matching green suits.

From then, Sunny Afternoon chronicles the turbulent rise and fall of the anti-Beatles, and makes a comparatively light touch of a sibling rivalry (you can tell real-life Ray Davies had a hand in writing the show with Joe Penhall) that in the papers made the Gallaghers look like Jedward. At the heart - and the headache - of the band is the commanding leading man, (an equal presence by Danny Horn) and younger brother Dave (an enigmatic Oliver Hoare), alongside bumbling Pete (Harry Curley) and cocky Mick (Zakarie Stokes), all excellent. While Ray is a do-gooder haunted by the sound of his dead sister, scrappy Dave goes off the rails with his cool swagger, turning to stagger as he wields axes and takes anything in sight.

The tried and tested rags to riches jukebox story is elevated here in that despite a meteoric rise, the band still wind up without a pot to piss in. It's a commentary of the time (where almost 60 years later, little has changed) where graft doesn't line the pockets. After a disastrous tour of the US - think fines, fees, and the worst headaches known to man - the four end up being the only band at the time banned from the country. Director Edward Hall has channeled that raucous energy with Hoare spraying the crowds with champagne and swinging from a chandelier while the ensemble plays in the aisle and stage heads wheel props onto Miriam Buether's effective studio set. Kudos to them; they get the final bow.

This is no ordinary jukebox musical. It’s electrifying. Everyone is firing on all cylinders. The musicianship in the company is first-rate, with everyone playing multiple instruments. As Rasa, Lisa Wright has a honeyed voice, while a gorgeous a cappella rendition of "Days" provides a moment of solace amid the chaos. I've never heard a show as loud or as clear as this, credit to Matt McKenzie's effective sound design that carries over to hand-held mics. Adam Cooper has choreographed snappy sequences for the group's backing dancers, who also double up as yappy groupies and sisters in Alice bands and knee-high platform boots. Everything about the production is slick and stylish. That includes the comedy; the script is packed with zippy one-liners about 60s pop culture from the World Cup to Yoko Ono, and classist remarks.

Clocking in at a weighty 2hr 40 run time, the pacing isn't perfect. There's a lot of talk of Muswell Hill, but not much time spent there. Anticipation is thick in the air after teases of the meaty riffs, but the adrenaline is truly unleashed during the extended encore bows, where the floor rumbles with the live band.

Sunny Afternoon takes the modest jukebox musical to new heights and higher decibels.