EdFringe Review: One Man Musical

I went into Flo & Joan’s One Man Musical with no shortage of enthusiasm. Who doesn’t enjoy a good roast, and what better way to skewer musical theatre’s ultimate boss than with a musical comedy?

The show arrives at the Pleasance Beyond on quite the wave of success. An ambitious Fringe experiment, it snowballed into a West End run and massive critical acclaim in 2024. Now, Nicola and Rosie Dempsey are back!

It begins so well. Flo & Joan open the 70-minute one-act as ‘The Man’s’ two-piece band, singing a deadpan disclaimer. They explain that ‘The Lord’ has been forced to play himself because no other actor dared take the gig and its accompanying legal jeopardy. So far, so fun.

Thus announced, so cometh ‘The Man’. Edward Easton avoids literal physical mimicry — the show isn’t aiming at an accurate impression. Instead, he plays Andrew Lloyd Webber (ALW) as a frenetic, unhinged megalomaniac in a velvet jacket. Complete with a slightly plumby, rather wheedling accent and a towering heap of self-regard, his intro number, ‘All About Me’, is a cracker of a potted childhood autobiography. He facetiously reprises it at opportune moments thereafter.

Easton provides a masterclass in tuneful character acting throughout. He is not about to steal a lead role on Broadway, but he has the chops to deliver a song with real pizzazz and precise comic timing. It’s not all bombast, however; there’s a touch of pathos here and there. Sitting at a tiny piano, he sings that he was an ‘unusual boy’ who found safety because ‘nothing bad ever happens in the theatre.’ That empathy will mostly disappear thereafter, returning in more defiant form to see the show to lights out. It’s enough to stop the piece from feeling like a (total) theatrical hit-piece.

Flo & Joan’s Satirical Take on Andrew Lloyd Webber

From there, no prisoners are taken. ‘The Man’ introduces a bag of rice to stand in for Tim. He charts their run of glorious, biblically themed success, noting they were fast becoming the ‘Lennon & McCartney’ of songwriting. Into the 80s, the show gilds tales of Cats, the ‘train musical’, and Phantom with spikier numbers, including the synth-pop anthem ‘P-U-S-S-Y’ for obvious reasons. ‘The Man’ is quick to clarify he definitely never touched drugs; his only love was making musicals.

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Director Georgie Staight nails the staging. Easton bounces off the walls while Flo & Joan sit stoically at their instruments. They project disdain for their creation while executing welcome vocal harmonies, synth and percussion. They do well to skirt copyright issues as well, their original score mimicking Lloyd Webber’s signature tropes—heavy octave leaps and bombastic crescendos. They might not demonstrate his gift for an earworm melody in the show, but that’s not really the nature of this beast.

Beyond the vibrant staging, the script itself is rich with cracking lines. We get withering explanations of why orchestras should be strictly under-stage and not seen, plus catty references to Sondheim. He also quite accurately eviscerates the impossible geography of the Pleasance Courtyard.

The narrative merrily targets his private life too. He sings love songs to his ‘technically legal-age’ first wife, switches the lyrics to suit ‘Sarah 2’, and forgets that wife three isn’t a ‘Sarah’ at all. Another comic highlight sees him wishing he were Lin-Manuel Miranda. He continually replaces the Hamilton composer’s name with rhythmically matching malapropisms. It is hilarious, though one suspects any real professional envy flows the other way.

“Easton provides a masterclass in tuneful character acting throughout. He is not about to steal a lead role on Broadway, but he has the chops to deliver a song with real pizzazz and precise comic timing.“

Ultimately, Flo & Joan use this ALW caricature to speak to all artists’ fears of becoming irrelevant with the passage of time. The political satire is dialled in, underlining his closeness to the odious Margaret Thatcher and his very curious vote to cut working tax credits whilst visiting London to open a production of Cats (he made only one other vote of note: in favour of legalising gay marriage).

Yet, let’s acknowledge that the script relies on some selective history. It suggests Andrew’s run hit a wall after Phantom; 1994’s Sunset Boulevard would like a word. They nod to his philanthropy, but suggest he isn’t supportive of new musical creators. That is a bit churlish, and not true. There is plenty you can nail him for, which they do extremely well, without embellishing the charges.

I also don’t think it would make the show any less funny to acknowledge his musical gifts and towering successes. Sure, the critics haven’t always loved ALW, but you better believe that Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat will sell out theatres every time it goes on tour. Like it or not, millions of people love his work. If I’m reading the show’s final moments right, I think its creators might even be conflicted members of the fan club — I think that could be a hilarious source of nuance.

Ultimately though, I get it: Flo & Joan came not to praise Caesar, but to bury him, and they do that in fine, musical style. This is a ferociously funny, well-sung hour of comedy.