★★★★★
As a feminist and a Mancunian, the concept of Sylvia couldn’t be more enticing. Only a few miles down the road from the birthplace of the women’s suffrage movement, and in another turbulent period of global politics, its message couldn’t be more relevant.
Marking the centenary of the 1918 Representation of the People Act, the show was first workshopped in 2018, making its official debut some 5 years later at the Old Vic.
This hip-hop musical focuses on the life and politics of rebellious middle child to trailblazer and WSPU founder Emmeline Pankhurst, particularly her dedication to shining a light on the marginalised voices of the silenced working-class men and women, much to the dismay of her peers.
Kate Prince’s direction is inspired, transforming what could have been a bleak political musical into a striking modern masterpiece. Under her supervision, Sylvia has become part of an existing sub-genre of musical theatre, reframing historical narratives through a modern lens and shaking things up with a contemporary musical palette and witty music, meme and slang references. Like Hamilton, Six, and Bridgerton, it also casts people of colour as historical figures, adding depth and relatability to its characters while providing more opportunities for people of colour to perform in historical dramas.
There’s an empowering fervour at the heart of Sylvia, Josh Cohen, DJ Walde and Kate Prince collaborating to create grippingly energetic music that captures the raw, unfettered frustration of a silenced generation (with additional lyrics by Tachia Newall, who returns to the show after appearing in its workshop).
Its sung-through premise is a little disjunct towards the beginning, with rhythmically delivered dialogue and (occasionally forced) rhyme schemes not quite finding their footing until a few songs in. Nevertheless, their scores are uplifting, powerful, and emotionally charged, channelling the history of resistance rooted in hip-hop, spoken-word, rap, and soul music to reflect the rebellious spirit of 20th century feminism and working-class activism. Sown throughout are a range of farcical male-led anti-suffrage raps, Sylvia’s enrapturing spoken-word monologues, a witty roast-packed rap-battle, and some chilling changes in pace during particularly harrowing moments.
Prince’s choreography is breathtakingly unique, blending interpretive dance with hip-hop and contemporary street dance.
Reprising her Olivier Award-winning role, Beverley Knight returns as Emmiline Pankhurst with jaw-dropping powerhouse vocals and a passionate, head-strong performance. Naomi Katiyo delivers one of the most heart-felt and gripping performances of the evening, her gorgeous rhythmicality and hauntingly emotive tone matched only by her effortlessly soaring vocals and an unshakable resolve. Their chemistry is palpable, as are their gorgeously melting riffs and some sumptuous emsemble harmonies across ‘You’ve Changed’ and the roller-coaster ride that is the uplifting ‘March Women March’ and the harrowing stand of solidarity in ‘Be the Change’. Its one of the few times I’ve been left utterly speechless (and holding back tears) by the interval. It’s visually and audibly striking. Powerful, raw, revolutionary, and poignant. It’ theatre at its finest.
The set and costume designs by Ben Stones are largely minimalistic with a monochrome palette and varying combinations of long skirts, petticoats, suit-ties, a set of epaulettes, and numerous oversized bows: a colourless hue for a black-and-white way of seeing and strict, rigid attire for their militaristic campaign. Andrzej Goulding’s animations harken back to Sylvia’s artistic talents, strokes and splashes of paint covering a collage of newspaper fonts depicting the time, place, and key phrases like a detailed scrapbook featuring a collage of her memories. The colour palette may leave something to desired but they strike a fascinating contrast with the bold pops of a rebellious red that crop up throughout Sylvia’s life, from Labour leader Mr. Hardy’s scarf and stockings to the animated headlines, her handmade newspapers and her manifesto sleevelet. She’s torn between her beliefs and her mother’s respect, thus the colours fracture and oscillate between the two. It eventually culminates in a myriad of loose pink and red aprons, representing her new life of freedom and hope while fighting for the working class from the East End.
Despite the serious topics, Kate Prince and Priya Parmar’s book is incredibly intuitive, capturing the uplifting air of rebellion, while balancing heart-breaking losses with rib-tickling jokes and farcical characters, ensuring you never feel bogged down by depressing storylines or political jargon. The onslaught in manosphere adjacent “intellectuals” was a particularly amusing addition, Churchill becoming a hilariously hammy mummy’s boy and King George III-like villain, “intellectuals” presenting exaggerative PowerPoints on female inferiority, and rowdy blokes shouting non-sensical insults. It was well-played although it is startling to think that these viewpoints still persist today.
Equally, Prince and Parmar offer a cohesive and digestible interrogation of 20th century feminist and socialist discourse, assessing the differing perspectives of mother and daughter since the war for the vote wasn’t won by one woman but numerous organisations and approaches. Where some shows trivialise with simplistic girl-boss narratives, this show builds complicated multi-dimensional characters and beliefs. It sympathises with both women’s frustrations, acknowledging the militaristic and disruptive qualities of Emmeline’s WSP (bombings, hunger strikes, the derby incident) alongside the necessary publicity and fighting morale that it incited, but also praising Sylvia’s pacifist protests and the physical improvements to the East End in her fight for the working class. It’s a nuanced look into the discourse around women’s suffrage and the different forms of protest, never taking a definitive stance, but allowing audiences to think critically.
However, I think it’s also important to acknowledge the dark side of the Suffragette’s that is mostly underplayed or ignored in the show. Not only were the suffragette’s responsible for numerous attempted bombings, arsons, vandalisms, and assaults, but several founding members held pro-colonial and/or fascist views, omissions that create a rose-tinted outlook of the party’s morals especially given the positive ending. Arguably, the omittance unintentionally sanitises the past, allowing historical figures to be protected from scrutiny, which to some extent Emmeline Pankhurst has historically benefitted from as a feminist icon. Of course, their contribution to women’s rights is undeniable, but should the show omit the Suffragettes’ dark ties and problematic beliefs? As with Hamilton, casting people of colour in these roles creates something of a political whitewash. I think Sylvia focuses on the positives to inspire. It’s a poetic piece of radical reclamation, focusing on creating discussions, building connections, and inspiring change that transcends all boundaries.
Ultimately, Sylvia has shaken me to my core. A dazzling cast, energetic fusions of music and dance, slick purposeful designs, and a ground-breaking message of hope and solidarity. It truly is a musical revolution.
