But this show ... relies on that catalogue of songs too heavily, which compromises the narrative journey and emotional force. Ed Curtis’s book features bite-sized scenes with neat bland soundbites. Knight blows us away with each number.
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The sound of the show ... is exquisite, Beverley Knight leading the way and raising the roof at points in the title role. Yet the dramatic balance doesn’t feel quite right yet. The changing roster of men in the line-up, and in Treadwell’s life, repeatedly woo us with calculated charm.
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Ed Curtis's book is rather less pioneering; in fact, it falls into all the worst traps of jukebox bio-musicals. Knight, of course, brings her own firepower, and the musical kicks into high gear whenever she has a solo number.
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Cheap laughs ... are woven throughout the exposition-heavy script, which darts between and rushes over certain storylines in an attempt to make the songs fit the scenes. As The Drifters and their girl, the cast work in harmony – here’s hoping they get the chance to do it again on a better-written show.
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And as a musical it certainly has its moments: basically any time Knight gets to sing. Her hardworking supporting cast ... are gifted multitaskers with fine voices. I couldn’t help but find ‘The Drifters Girl’ a bit tawdry. This is the jukebox musical genre at its most cynical.
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The staging is pleasingly simple ... [but] Ed Curtis’s script is awful. Ultimately ... this show depends on the quality of the music ... [when] Knight transitions into full-throated song, time seems to stop. Her four male co-stars deliver immaculate performances.
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There's not much dramatic engagement in the story; all the characters who wander through remain outlines rather than people. [However], Adam J Bernard, Tarinn Callender, Matt Henry, and Tosh Wanogho-Maud play every part and fill every voice. They are credited as co-creators and in truth, they make the show.
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It’s the performances that jerk tears, conjure smiles, make hearts swoon or ache – not the story. As a musical it flails, but every time the quartet layers up those coil-tight harmonies, or Knight lets rip, it’s heaven.
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