The Aroma of French Bread in the Chocolate Factory
What a ‘bouffée d’air provençale’ the music and lyrics in Stephen Schwartz’s The Baker’s Wife offers its audience. After seven years in Paris anything French carries a wave of nostalgia for me, and from the moment we stepped into the theatre, to the final notes, this was one big dive into all things French: the chink of ball hitting ball on the village pétanque piste, the temptation to sniff the fresh lavender à table, the net curtains and fading paint on every wall around the village square in which we found ourselves… We’d been transported into Sainte-Cécile – or at least into a theatre the other side of the Channel. The opening spiel about taking one’s seats was all French, followed by a heavily accented “Mobile Off”. Joyously welcomed into this other world, a little cut off from civilisation, we awaited the arrival of the new baker, writes Eleanor Thorn.
In France, bread is important. No baker, no bread, just a community beside itself with desire for that everyday commodity. Here we are in a timeless village with wonderful music and songs, and a script reinvented by Joseph Stein from the 1938 film. “Small events can be big, can change your life, even,” we’re promised, and so we know that something, even if only small, is afoot…
Debates between strait-laced teacher(Mark Extance), moneyed marquis(Michael Matus) with his three ‘nieces’, priest(Matthew Seadon-Young) craving a peaceful life (“But you can’t choose your neighbours”) are as exciting as life gets until the long-awaited baker arrives, newly-wedded to a woman more than half his age, both excited about their “new life, a sweet life” – though he a little more love-struck than her.
Morning madness then comes with the irresistible aroma of fresh, warm bread that has drooling villagers in a rugby-like scrum at the door. The breaking of bread goes into surreal slow motion, like slowed footage of a rugby line-out: crotchety neighbours united in desire, singing “Daily bread” with gospel church passion.
The barmy air, the bread and the beauty of the baker’s wife drive handsome villager Dominique(Joaquin Pedro Valdes) to distraction; he serenades baker and wife at their balcony but once baker’s back turned, offers temptations too great for Geneviève(Lucie Jones) and off she takes before the next batch is in the oven.
The village is breadless again, for the baker can bake no more. United by their ongoing desire for bread, bickering villagers, “victims of that woman’s lust”, congregate and vow to bring her back whether it be through logic, a sense of religious obligation or mayoral authority.
The second half could be entitled ‘reflections on a marriage’ and on a rare outing with my husband with our daughter home alone for the first time, this seemed apt. Villagers warming to the plight of the cuckold bring comfort and hilarious cheer: he’s the “luckiest man” as the drudgery of marriage hasn’t had a chance to set in.
When Genevieve ponders her options in song from her balcony, the soundtrack sadly overpowers Lucie Jones’ wonderful singing. But this is made up for by Clive Rowe living up to his character’s name, Aimable, in delivering a marvellous solo, full of pathos, that results in us all falling a little bit in love with this big-bellied not-young-any-more baker.
Wine-infused reflections shared amongst the women of the village on the café terrace ensue. Enemies become friends and big decisions are made. The ‘bouleversement’ of the baker’s arrival, then his wife’s return, with the ripple-effect on the lives of the people of Sainte-Cécile make for an incredible tonic and you’ll leave the show feeling a little more romantic. Fluid and inventive changes of scene, superb singing by a joyful and convincing cast make this musical a must before a holiday in Provence this summer.
Menier Chocolate Factory, Southwark Street, SE1 until 14th September.
020 7378 1713 (£2.50 transaction fee per booking)
Website: www.menierchocolatefactory.com (£1.50 transaction fee per booking)
