Here and Now - The Steps Musical (touring) ★★

Jukebox musicals are the theatrical equivalent of fast food – highly processed, suspiciously artificial and often remarkably bland. However, their popularity remains undiminished.

While variations of the genre existed before, when Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story got box office tills ringing in 1989, it alerted eager producers that there was gold in them there back catalogues. Take a bunch of songs from a favourite artist, thread them through an easily grasped storyline (staunchly refusing to use the word ‘plot’) and kerching, you have a winning formula. But soon unwary punters discovered that results may vary. Mamma Mia, with its page-turner storyline, its tongue firmly in its cheek and a soundtrack of ABBA’s finest (and significantly theatrical) songs, remains god tier of the jukeboxers. We Will Rock You, while slated at the time, ran in the West End for 12 years of bonkers glory. Tina! The musical and Sunny Afternoon have proved recent enjoyable forays. But, truth be told, against these successes, there have been some truly risible efforts. Desperately Seeking Susan offered the songs of Blondie rather than Madonna and was remembered by its own writer as Desperately Seeking The Exit. Our House took the hits of Madness and shoehorned them into an underbaked morality tale – like a ska Blood Brothers with fewer jokes. Perhaps the worst being the Jennifer Saunders’ back-of-a-fag-packet scripted Viva Forever, which sank the Spice Girls musical to a resounding Zig-a-Zig-Nah!

Here and Now – The Steps Musical does have a potent, extensive and, importantly, well-known discography to call upon. The poppiest five-piece of the late 90s certainly has plenty of well-loved pop ditties with conveniently generalised lyrics and mildly angst-ridden undercurrents.

“I thought we had it made

I thought you’d never go away

But now you’re suddenly like a stranger

And you’re leaving our love behind”

from ‘The Last Thing on My Mind’ – almost tailor-made for a none-too-deep jeopardy.

But there is a bit of a catch with their musical canon: songs seem to split towards either giddy, toe-tapping fluff (‘Stomp’, ‘Summer of Love’, and the execrable ‘5, 6, 7, 8′) or towards the cloud-pulling emosh-goosing ballad-ette (‘One For Sorrow’, ‘After The Love Has Gone’, ‘Deeper Shade of Blue’). Not as obvious in a concert, the division of intent becomes noticeable when they try to make a cohesive narrative soundtrack. There’s no reason both can’t co-exist harmoniously with judicial placement in a carefully storied show.

Set in a (curiously customer-free) seaside supermarket, ‘Better Best Bargains’ follows four of the staff members who pledge on a pineapple that this will be their summer of love. And they will all take a chance of a happy ending. If you didn’t catch that Premise™, don’t worry: you’ll be reminded of it throughout by song and script.

Caz (Lara Denning) is waiting to hear about the results of her application to adopt a child with partner Gareth (Chris Grahamson) – but wait! He’s having a midlife crisis and is leaving her, putting the adoption in jeopardy. If you’re worried that this sounds like a flimsy, emotionally manipulative plot, don’t worry; there will be another 5, 6, 7, 8 along any minute. Neeta (Rosie Singha) fancies co-worker Ben (Ben Darcy) – but wait! She’s too afraid to tell him because of…reasons. Vel (Jacqui Dubois) is in a rut and wants to finish with car park supervisor Lesley (John Stacey) and face up to who she really is – but wait! He finishes with her first and leaves the supermarket. Do you see a pattern? And young Robbie (Blake Patrick Anderson) yearns to be loved – but wait! He can’t risk commitment. So far, so soapy. And that’s not mentioning a clandestine affair or the secret plot to sell the supermarket and turn it into luxury flats…

If that sounds like writer Shaun Kitchener has grabbed some random narratives from the middle aisle of Lidl on a late-night shop, it’s hard to find evidence to the contrary. Nothing that a few glasses of Prosecco won’t help you through.

But, as the show’s unexpected trigger warnings disclose, the script includes child loss in the mix. Caz is revealed to have had a son who was “born sleeping” thirteen years previously. A stillborn story is of a weight and a sensitivity where treading lightly is required. Instead, such care is stomped on, with the loss of her child packed and unpacked with unedifying speed whenever an upcoming song needs an emotional hook to hang the lyrics on. Kitchener gives no space to let Caz’s heartbreak breathe. As a narrative organ stop, it is used way too disposably, leaving Denning to perform all manner of screeching gear changes that Lewis Hamilton would find challenging. Despite wearing a cardboard cactus hat some minutes before, she does find something resembling a genuine sentiment in ‘Heartbeat’. But when it is rinsed again for ‘One For Sorrow’, this obvious emotional manipulation feels cheap and unearned. The big notes ending, so reminiscent of The X Factor, that bastion of histrionic faux emotion, is simply too, too bad.

The biggest problem Here and Now has is it never decides what a “Steps musical” should be. It has levity but rarely is funny. Poor Sally Ann Matthews, who is a fine actress with a natural flair for comedy, as Patricia, the store manager, is trapped in the kind of witless, overblown comedy caricature that should have been outlawed years ago. Delivering lines like “You should see the size of his…P.60”, she is lumbered with dud after dud that couldn’t get a laugh if nitrous oxide were piped into the theatre.

The wonderfully grounded Jacqui Dubois and Lauren Woolf fare best on the laughter front with welcome, warm, everyday banter. They offer a tantalising glimpse of how good the show could have been if the script, instead of ramping every comedy moment to breaking point, had just kept it pure and simple. Sorry, wrong pop group.

Musically, there is an unpredictability about what songs work and which are strictly B-list at Capital. Some of the newer tracks fare surprisingly well: Scared of the Dark and What the Future Holds have a kinetic energy and freshness. Elsewhere, Better Best Forgotten and Deep Shade of Blue lose their way, interrupted by pesky storylines, robbing them of momentum. Tragedy is an inevitable crowd pleaser even though it is tethered to some “save our store” chanting, desperately trying to find a reason how it fits into proceedings.

The moment where Here and Now comes alive and delivers comes randomly in the second act with Chain Reaction. Going wildly off-piste, local drag queen and object of Robbie’s affection, Gem stages a showstopper dressed as a bag of frozen goods. River Medway, despite seemingly being a recent graduate from the Katie Price School of Vocals, yass-queens the whole show into a joyous camp fantasia, demanding and deserving the thunderous applause from the audience.

For a musical, there are a surprising amount of vocal issues in Here and Now. Awkward head-to-chest voice transitions, uncomfortable key changes in the middle of verses, and distinct moments of pitchiness in Neon Blue, Something In Your Eyes and It’s The Way You Make Me Feel. Claire Richards, Steps’ vocal powerhouse, has an effortless and impressive vocal range, not least as evidenced by her performances in the 2011 ITV show Popstar to Opera Star. Her understated vocal command disguises how tricky some of the band’s songs are. Lara Denning carries the bulk of the numbers, equipping herself with the necessary belt, if not quite matching Richards’ ability to find nuance along with volume.

Here and Now is a jukebox musical that will divide opinion. One person’s fun night out is another’s Ninth Circle of Hellish Forced Jollity with a megamix tacked on. If you think this show might be for you, then it could well be. For others though, their best hope of a happy ending could well be a fire alarm going off.