David Bowie's Lazarus at King's Cross Theatre

Lazarus
King's Cross Theatre, 13 November 2016

David Bowie was certainly busy in his final days, recording his last ever album Blackstar and penning a musical sequel to his iconic role in the film The Man Who Fell To Earth. His last ever public appearance was at its premiere in New York last December and, despite leaving many critics a bit baffled, the show's short run sold out in minutes. Luckily for me it is back, this time playing in his hometown of London with Michael C. Hall (he of Dexter fame) resuming his role from the NY run.

The idea of Bowie and Dexter (I was a huge fan of that show) in one show obviously held huge appeal to me so I got a rather lovely surprise when my brother bought me tickets for the show for my birthday (I'm very lucky I know), but of course I had no clue what to expect. Even the venue was strange: King's Cross Theatre isn't a real theatre at all, but a makeshift theatre housed in a superior tent outside of King's Cross station originally (and still) created for The Railway Children production which uses a real steam train (apparently). The show wasn't produced on the same stage of course but the seating left much to be desired, as I strained to see through the heads in front of me, so I wished they had opted for something a little more traditional for that part at least. That said, I still did very much enjoy the show.

When we entered the theatre Michael C. Hall was already lying on the floor in front of a big static filled screen, obviously meant to be a TV, while the band was positioned at the back of the stage behind glass. Hall plays Thomas Newton, Bowie's earth-stranded alien, now in self-confinement in his New York apartment, dreaming of his lost love Marylou and his far-off home and unable to die, aided day-by-day by an assistant, Elly, who feels she is slowly losing herself and turning into Marylou. Newton finds himself visited by a small, white-haired girl who only he can see and wants to help him achieve his dream of going home, all the while a malevolent figure called Valentine with sinister intentions grows closer.

The story, co-penned by Enda Walsh, is pretty slight and definitely a little confusing at times, but the feel was certainly other-worldly and suitably strange, but it was the songs that were the real saving grace here and they were always beautifully performed and exciting, even if sometimes their connection to the script was a little tenuous. The Bowie songs took in the whole of his career, starting off with the song Lazarus from Blackstar and working its way through tracks such as The Man Who Sold The World and Life On Mars? 

Some of my favourite musical moments though came courtesy of some less obvious Bowie tracks such as This Is Not America, Absolute Beginners (one of the best moments for me), It's No Game (Part 1), a very poignant Where Are We Now? and a wonderfully sing-along All The Young Dudes. Heroes is also used beautifully to close the show. In addition to this there are three new Bowie songs, all of which sounded wonderful, in particular one near the end called When I Met You, which I can imagine could have been another hit for Bowie.

Cast-wise, Hall was fantastic as the lonely, desperate and strange Newton and also turns out to have a rather incredible singing voice. My brother had already seen him in the lead role in the New York production of Hedwig & The Angry Inch but I had never heard him before and it times he actually sounded very like Bowie himself. Also great was 15-year-old Sophia Anne Caruso, who plays the ghostly girl helping Newton. Reprising her role from the NY production, I feel lucky to have seen her and much of the New York cast.

The staging, by Ivo van Hove, was very simple but hugely effective, with the screen in the middle of the stage showing images throughout from newsreel footage to animations and even allowed characters to seem like they were stepping from it. At one point a film of Hall destroying his room were projected against the white background, which looked incredible and lights and music was used to make the stage look like outside of a club, which nicely made me think of the cover of Ziggy Stardust.

I suppose you could call Lazarus a jukebox musical but Bowie and Walsh created something so much more interesting and unique than that. There's depth here that left me pondering the real meaning of it all long after it ended but most of all it was a joy to hear Bowie's songs performed so well in such a compelling way. I loved it and how incredible that Bowie continues to intrigue and impress us with new works even after his death.