William Russell

There is, indeed, lots to shout about in this sparkling little revue featuring the songs of the sixties and the ladies who made them famous.

Devised by Philip George, who was responsible for 12 editions of the infamous Forbidden Broadway revue in New York, and David Lowenstein, it is a hymn to the divas of the decade when London was swinging - Petula, Shirley, Sandy, Cilla, Nana, and, above all, Dusty. Although at times it gets rather too close to being one damn song after another - the linking material is not as sharp as it might be - the show is a reminder of how good the songs were. Come back Tony Hatch and Jackie Trent.

The cast of five contemporary divas seize their chances, hit the high notes with brio, and generally remind us what dolly birds, much more fun than today's It girls, were like with their hand jive, mini skirts, and insistence on not going all the way.

The agony aunt, Evelyn Home, comes in for considerable stick with her coy advice to girls to service their man's needs come what may, and, of the divas, Shirley Bassey fares worst, with a devastating rendition of Goldfinger which reveals all the Dame's tics and essential tackiness.

Choosing between Sophi-Louise Dann, Hilary O'Neil, Catherine Porter, Lizzie Deane, and Gemma Wardle is an invidious task. They all shine. They should each be leading a major show of their own.

Revel in 24 Hours to Tulsa, go Downtown, Don't Sleep in the Subway, Stop Feeling Sorry For Yourself, and believe that Anyone Who Had a Heart would know The Look of Love and know You Don't Have to Say You Love Me. Those Were The Days, indeed.

7/6/01 2:26:33 PM

REVIEW BY COPSTICK

I want to take anybody and everybody who is involved with the appalling All You Need Is Love production and strap them into the front row of the Jermyn Street Theatre. There they will see how a compilation show is done when it is done brilliantly.

Actually, I just want to take anybody and everybody to this FAB show. Shout! is the best thing to happen to sixties music since Mary Isobel Catherine Bernadette O'Brien changed her name to Dusty.

It is simple - lots of those great, great songs that were girl-powered like a Spice Girl's wet dream, peppered with tiny flashes of sixties girl culture from adverts and agony aunts. And it is, as another sixties girl once said, 'practically perfect in every way'.

Direction and choreography are tighter than Geri's botty (and twice as watchable), Phillip George and David Lowenstein's delightful, intelligent musical choices are in the hands of Paul Knight, Paul Knight - whose arrangements are so good, I've named him twice - with his two man band of Bret Vanderburg and Dominic Colchester and the whole thing is just about the most fun you can have in London sitting up.

There are five other reasons to see this show : Sophie-Louise Dann, Lizzie Dean, Hillary O'Neil, Catherine Porter and Gemma Wardle. To have even one of these exuberantly, extravagantly talented women on the stage would give an audience a reason to strain a tricep applauding, to have all five makes it feel like you have died and gone to entertainment heaven on Sixties Night.

I am told that the idea for the show germinated when co-creator Phillip George found himself in a Soho bar watching grown men sob-along-a-Dusty the day her death was announced.

Dusty, girlfriend, you did not die in vain.

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Review from 'The Stage'

Review from 'Time Out'