“It was long ago, it was far away, it was so much better than it is today…”
Glenn Adamson, Katie Tonkinson, Rob Fowler and Sharon Sexton. Photo credit: Matt Crockett
Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, as they say in Heathers the Musical. In an attempt to recreate some of the atmosphere of Bat Out of Hell the Musical’s Australian arena tour, the cast in this latest UK tour sing from handheld microphones. This leaves only one arm free to do anything else whilst singing, and even more bizarrely, headset microphones are also in use. This isn’t, however, an arena tour, it is a theatre tour – albeit of something that is barely a theatrical production anymore, and seeing the likes of Strat (Glenn Adamson) and Raven (Katie Tonkinson) in intimate conversation behind closed doors whilst speaking into handheld microphones is utterly unconvincing.
Falco Towers is now a bungalow – indeed everything is now a bungalow in the fictitious city of Obsidian (a name that no longer appears in the show), with the upper level of the stage largely taken up by an on-stage band, another element inspired by the set up used in the Australian arena tour. Large chunks of the spoken dialogue have been excised, to the point where there is little context to practically anything that goes on. No proper explanation is supplied as to who ‘The Lost’ are or how they came to be, or if there is any way by which their predicament (whatever it is) could be resolved.
Of course, those (like yours truly) who have followed the show for some years understand the backstories. But I put myself in the position of someone seeing the show for the first time. Seeing Zahara (Georgia Bradshaw) suddenly appear towards the end of the first act in a nurse’s uniform, having not worn it before, because the dream suppressant is now supplied to Raven directly by her father Falco (Rob Fowler), you’d be forgiven for thinking she worked in a hospital or a hospice. Strat’s exclamation, “You work here – for Falco?!” is replied to, as ever, with, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Well, there’s a lot we no longer know about anyone.
Carla Bertran’s Tink gets more bike action than anyone else – by which I mean a pushbike. On the opening night of the 2025 tour, stagehands forced a motorbike on stage part way through the title number that appears just before the interval. It doesn’t move once in place. For ‘What Part of My Body Hurts the Most’ in the second half, Falco pushes a storage trunk on stage, which is apparently what he and his wife Sloane (Sharon Sexton, Fowler’s actual wife) use instead of chairs and sofas. Except Sloane doesn’t sit. She can’t. The top of the trunk is too high to be used as a seat. Tink, meanwhile, pops out of the trunk like a jack-in-the-box to commence negotiations with Falco for ‘ransom’.
Raven’s bed is also a storage trunk or two. Is this show on tour or something? Do they not bother unpacking anymore? The non-specific every-place staging, in which nothing differentiates, say, ‘The Deep End’ hangout place for members of ‘The Lost’ from Falco Bungalow, adds to the confusion. The choreography, perhaps always the weakest part of the production, is more exaggerated and unpleasant to witness than ever before, with those handheld microphones getting in the way all the time – you’d find more pleasure in watching a workout video on YouTube. You might even find more pleasure in participating in one.
The songs of Jim Steinman and Meat Loaf sound great, performed by this evidently talented cast, who do their best with what they are given. But they could do with one of the storage trunks being propped open and all the handheld microphones thrown into it. Iestyn Griffiths leads an eight-piece band with precision and passion. The simpler staging, somewhat ironically, makes the live videography largely redundant – there are now two screens, which sometimes show something useful, as it does during ‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light’, but other times has abstract imagery, which reminded me of background images supplied by Microsoft, if you’ve ever found yourself fiddling around with the desktop display settings on your computer.
For what it’s worth, I (sort of) get what they’re trying to do with the lighting, by making it clearer who is actually singing a solo line or verse in the big ensemble numbers. I'll still go, purely to enjoy the songs. Bat Out of Hell needs to decide what it wants to be – a dramatic retelling and adaptation of the Peter Pan story, or a tribute concert showcasing the Meat Loaf back catalogue. As it stands, it looks cheap and tacky, thrown together in a hurry, and a far cry from the magnanimous and larger than life production that once graced the West End. And I don’t say that to all the boys.
Two stars
Unfortunately I concur with every word and it gives me no joy to do so. This show has consumed a great deal of people’s lives for 7 years. Life long friends have been made and a love and appreciation for the cast still stands. However last night nearly bought me to tears and not in a good way.
I could go on but Chris has covered it all.
I will see the show again but only to listen and see the talented cast who we will follow beyond Bat.
Time for me to bow out.
Jim would be turning in his grave!