In
2006 Desmond O’Connor and Andrew Taylor pulled off an amazing feat with
Failed States, as a powerful,
intelligent indictment of Britain’s anti-terrorism laws… in the form of
a stage musical. It has taken them some time to follow up that
small-scale success. The title of
Toxic
Bankers suggests a likelihood of satire (it might be rhyming
slang, yes?), but not the certainty; the show itself is likewise
irresolute.
Fiona, a junior number-cruncher for an ethical hedge fund, notices
something amiss in the transaction records; meanwhile, the boss has
employed a concierge service to take care of all his employees’ life
hassles, but there is clearly more to these smiling flunkies than meets
the eye; meanwhile, Fiona has deeper emotional problems (one of the
show’s upbeat numbers comes when concierges sing to her of the wonders
of “Fluoxetine”, a.k.a. Prozac); meanwhile, so in their sketchier ways
do her colleagues; meanwhile… By this stage I felt like Peter Shaffer’s
Emperor of Austria, complaining, “Too many notes, Mozart!” The
inevitable corporate wickedness, which one more or less expects to be
the climax of the plot, is both revealed and aggravated before the
interval (with lines such as “We currently own 40% of Greece”), leaving
the second half free for ever wilder and more fantastical developments,
except that these need to be interwoven with moves towards at least
Fiona’s personal resolution, resulting in even greater diffuseness of
focus.
One cannot fault the ambition of Taylor’s script, though, nor of
O’Connor’s songs. He scarcely ever cops out with lazy rhymes,
demonstrating instead an Ira Gershwinian lyrical facility; he also
shows a fondness for layered vocal counterpoint, right from the opening
number in which all four of the hedge fund’s staff sing distinct
working-day words and melodies. Hazel Gardner makes a sympathetic
Fiona, Jonathan Dryden Taylor a powerfully greedy boss. But the
production (Andrew Taylor also directs) feels cramped in a number of
ways, not just in the postage-stamp-sized basement of what is already
an underground venue. Video clips help cover scene changes but also
suggest even more plot than is dealt with onstage, and an hour each way
of playing time feels overmuch given such limited resources. If it lost
half an hour and two or three plot strands, it would hit fewer targets
but hit them harder.
Written for the Financial
Times.