Six, Lyric Theatre, review: a beacon of hope for the future of British musicals

Before I point out the bleeding obvious – namely that Six is a marvellous show, dripping with invention and intelligence, and one which brings not just happiness in the moment but hope for the future of the British musical – I need to attack the fatuous.

Its composers Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss completed their witty, magpie-minded sonic onslaught on behalf of Henry VIII’s wives while in their final year at Cambridge (2016-17); it has since become a theatrical phenomenon and they deserve the riches, opportunities and acclaim that have come their way.

Cambridge University, you will be aware, has recently been at the centre of a freedom of speech storm. The governing body has just voted – crucially – for “tolerance” of differing views rather than required “respect” for them, a means of upholding/ensuring academic freedom and fairness.

That message should be instinctive to the university’s graduate diaspora and amplified by it. But in a lamentable episode last month, Marlow and Moss cancelled an interview with Graham Norton on his Radio 2 programme because they “didn’t feel comfortable being on the same billing as JK Rowling”; they were reluctant to “feature as guests on a show where she is promoting her work until she has made significant efforts to make amends with the trans community”.

A snub, then; a quasi-boycott. Given that Six has transferred from the Arts to the (beautifully refurbished) Lyric, you wonder how they sleep at night; after all, it’s only a short stroll along Shaftesbury Avenue to another Nimax theatre, the Palace, home to the (Covid-suspended) Harry Potter. Eek!

I jest. But, seriously, theatre upholds diversity of opinion and the right to dissent, or it is nothing. There’s an onus on those who work in it to fight against, not uphold, cancel culture. Minor though it might seem to disdain contact with a fellow writer – and Rowling is insulated by her queenly wealth – it’s part of a trend of treating even reasoned opinions as heretical, worthy of excommunication. And there’s an added irony here. Laying aside the fact that Henry’s appalling record as marriage material stemmed from the perceived usefulness – or otherwise – of his spouses as reproductive vessels, the winning thrust of Six is about letting muted, marginalised (female) voices be heard.

The evening is an 80-minute irreverent blast from the past aimed at setting the record straight. The format is mock Tudor talent-show, with us in the imaginary position of Simon Cowell-like judges. The sextet (in combatively playful, period-allusive attire – think Vivienne Westwood meets Valkyries) vie with each other, via vocal prowess and potted autobiography, to assert their claim to have had it the worst, and gain victimhood’s crown.

There’s ample room, then, for comic cat-fights – preening, posturing and backchat. But the superficial bling carries a deeper sting. Who, actually, did suffer the most? Is it no contest if you got beheaded? What about the broken heart, the dashed romantic dreams, the death caused by child-birth? Taking modish liberties to articulate the "real" experience of these corseted characters, the show demands we put ourselves in their restrictive place: would their mindsets – their outrage, their hurt – be so very far removed from that of their sisters today? History is flipped on its head to become herstory and you’re left wondering if Henry’s fame owes much, if not all, to them (his reign in fact the sideshow).

The production (directed by Moss, and Jamie Armitage) is more polished than ever – the choreography and lighting so synchronised it’s like the deftest human embroidery. None of the cast (invidious to single them out) misses a beat – or impish wink – as they hurtle through Hamilton-like rap, heart-stopping soul, Hi-NRG beats and girl-power anthems. Covid alas prevented Broadway from seeing Six – the curtain fell on opening night. Albeit the guillotine of Tier 3 hangs over London, the West End can still be royally pleased with itself for pulling off this riotous, life-affirming act of restoration.

Booking until April 18; nimaxtheatres.com