City Of Angels (1989) is a smart blend of past and present in both its subject matter and its approach thereto. In its first major London revival since its 1993 West End première, it is given a staging by Josie Rourke that is both vibrant and an admirably astute example of shrinking a large-scale musical to the all-but-chamber size of the Donmar.
    
Composer Cy Coleman’s concept was to write a musical in the style of a 1940s film noir. He and scriptwriter Larry Gelbart created a story-within-a-story structure, in which the Chandler-pastiche gumshoe’s case is seen being uncomfortably adapted for an amoral, bottom-line-fixated movie mogul. Screenwriter Stine (no first name) tries to maintain both his own integrity and that of his fictional surrogate Stone (likewise), but he fights a losing battle. The double-level perspective offers scope for both movie classicism and more contemporary mordancy (although why “contemporary”? Even the mega-cynical original movie of Sunset Boulevard dates back to 1950). Coleman’s score, too, has period jazz flowing through its veins, and the punning extremes of David Zippel’s lyrics are at home in either era, as when producer Buddy explains his Hollywood philosophy by observing, “Let’s face it, I’ve been through DeMille”.
    
Rourke uses a narrow gallery above the Donmar stage to allow differentiation between the real and reel worlds; more often, they melt into one another on the main stage, but without causing confusion. Stine’s typed script unfolds as a series of video captions, driving Stone and the other movie characters and also offering a handy opening credits sequence; when the levels (inevitably) clash, with Stine and Stone arguing for the upper hand, the two men seem to push the white dividing line between fact and fiction across the stage at each other. Most astutely, Rourke casts the Angel City Four backing vocal quartet from black performers then uses them as a range of menial characters, allowing them to personify a wordless sardonic commentary upon events and attitudes (one thing you never see in a noir movie is a noir face).
    
If the ultimate spark of magic fails to ignite, no matter: this may not be love, but it could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
     
Written for the Financial Times.