Review: Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others

The Smiths have long provided the soundtrack for my life. Which is why I suppose the thought of a musical based upon the songs of Morrissey and Marr is not really as bizarre an idea as it may initially sound. I was curious to see how the creators would set the lives of their fictional characters to the songs of The Smiths, and to have these songs, which have always had such personal meaning for me, communicate something drastically different from my own experiences and interpretations. It was this curiosity (and of course, simple Smiths fanaticism) that found me seated at the Lowry on a Monday evening after a long day at work, doing my best impersonation of a theatre-goer.

It was not a convincing one, I assure you. My first mistake was, when purchasing my ticket, thinking in terms of a concert rather than a film, and getting a front row seat. I could touch the stage from where I sat, and my neck was going to suffer for it before the night was out. Would I be able to see anything (besides what is happening in the wings)?

Thankfully, when the curtain rose, I was easily able to see... everything there was to see. What was not so easy was understanding the meaning behind what I was seeing. The only reviews I had read were those printed on the flyer, which had exclaimed "The fabulous arrangements are playful, dark and lush" (The Guardian), "The music and voices are superb" (Independent on Sunday), and "The songs lift and soar with the impeccable vocals of the six strong company" (Time Out). They all focused on the vocal performances and the music - which were, without a doubt, absolutely amazing - but perhaps this meant I was not the only one without a clue as to what was actually going on onstage?

It opened with a monologue about the intangibility of our realities (I think). Then suddenly a gun is fired, and the music begins. A startling and effective way of seizing the audience's attention right from start.

The winding path the company then leads you down becomes increasingly dark and murky, through a series of frenetic scenes, heavy with symbolism, interwoven around a central theme of domestic abuse.

I had already had the pleasure of listening to The Section's string quartet tribute to The Smiths, and so the novelty of hearing classical versions of classic Smiths songs was not as striking as it might have otherwise been, but the arrangements were still very beautiful, and the songs lend themselves surprisingly well to this style of music. Interestingly, the string quartet was made part of the show rather than simply providing a musical backdrop, as their sheet music was often 'stolen' by the actors, and at one point they took a lunch break onstage, ignoring the various goings-on of the actors. And there was always very much going on; my eyes were constantly darting back and forth in an attempt to take it all in. At times it felt as if there was a large ensemble cast performing

rather than a company of only six. All throughout the performance video images of a boy were played behind the actors on a large screen, reflecting the mood of that particular scene.

Many of The Smiths songs already feel like mini vignettes unto themselves, complete with storylines and characters, but the scenes in Some Girls... never went for the obvious, and instead used The Smiths' songs in new and unexpected ways. 'Unlovable' as a self-help group mantra. Shocking, simulated shagging to 'How Soon Is Now'. A large burly man tap-dancing to a flamenco version of 'Barbarism Begins At Home'. Will I ever recover?

The storyline of the musical, if it could be called such, is, to my understanding, one of abuse. A male character, as represented by two male actors (or was he his son...?), molests his young daughter. We then explore the inadequacy and guilt the man feels, when, for example, he sits down to dinner with his absent family, but must frantically race back and forth to acquire the proper dining set, only to eventually give up and have a drink instead. "Guilty" is painted across the set, and his stuttered delivery of the line "my only weakness is (*slap*), my only weakness is (*slap*), my only weakness is (*slap*)...nevermind" displays a halted attempt to communicate these feelings to the audience.

Three of the female performers portray various aspects of the mother of the family; suffering wife, woman in denial, and vengeful, protective mother, who ultimately kills the father figure for what he has done. Throughout the performance one of the women is constantly writing, gathering and compiling notes, which I believe represent an awareness of the abuse which is taking place, and once they are aIl gathered and read, the mother finally confronts what has been going on in her home. I also suspect that this is the reason behind the title of the play - besides being the title of a song by The Smiths (which is notably absent from the production), "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others" also describes the mother character, with her many roles and their personifications.

The play reaches its climax with the song "I Know It's Over", which, besides being a powerful scene of accusation, confession and revelation, is also enjoyable as what seems an (intentionally) hammy, drunken karaoke number.

It concludes with the cast in a heap, and the daughter character climbing atop them, a survivor of the abuse, to sing 'Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want', finally able to assert herself and demand that her needs be met. The mother characters then provide the denouement with a touching rendition of 'Well I Wonder', as sung by a mother to her child, presumably after having been separated from her for having killed her father.

It closed with the same monologue with which it opened, asking "Could a man be dead and not realise it?" I would ask him, "Could a dead man really tap dance like that?"

Overall, the performances and music were spectacular, and my only complaint is that it was seemed unnecessarily obscure for obscurity's sake, which strikes me as rather ironic, considering Morrissey's lyrics, although often ambiguous, were always intended to be direct and accessible. However, it may simply be that I'm not very perceptive. Regardless, I was left feeling a bit perplexed and inadequate, but such feelings are nothing new to me, and were easily dealt with in my typical manner: by listening to The Smiths.