Director Felix Mortimer said that he never calls his work “immersive” and it crucially isn’t. Ushered around by two chaperons with varying degrees of improvisational ability the audience experiences the story of the murderous couple in short bursts. Several flats on various floors of the building serve as sets for the banquet, murders, fights and plotting. Michael Adams and Sarah Ratheram were the Macbeths on this particular evening and so close up they were particularly captivating. Still, there is something inherently problematic with the way audience and performers interact and how the narrative is driven between the scenes. Clearly separated from the action I was mostly an onlooker but not always, there was an palpable awkwardness about what my role as an audience member was at any given point. Am I supposed to interrupt when someone is being murdered or would that screw up a perfectly planned time table? Gavin Duff’s Banquo and Roseanne Lynch as Lady MacDuff manage to blur the line as their performance aura is more penetrable and their fate so bloody that compassion and shock eradicates all dramaturgical concern.

Alexander Luttley’s flirtatious Porter gives us rare interaction with a fictional character and there is an utterly creepy devised scene by Gruff theatre which should not be spoiled but it feels like it’s straight out of horror film. However, it’s all too brief and doesn’t entirely slot into the rest of the evening. Exploring and roaming is not encouraged and questions to where certain doors lead are blocked rather unceremoniously. I remain contained in the space and controlled in my actions to the point of frustration. After I was placed in front of a telly blaring out lengthy faux news material in a moment of unchaperoned free will I decided on a visit to the loo. It turns out to be bad timing indeed and I missed the tragic Lady Macbeth scene. Tuts and disapproval from the chaperons greet me and I feel guilty for what is essentially a structural weakness of the piece. On every staircase or behind every corner there are Bordurian stage managers and assistants with clipboards not so secretly directing groups of actors from one place to the next. What a logistical effort from cast and crew, sadly not one that convinces entirely. The borscht served at dinner was terrific though, it was red as blood and therefore matched the plan of our murderous couple perfectly.

A note on details in world building: the passport necessary to enter Borduria and which is never referred back to throughout the performance strictly states potassium – or Banana – consumption is not advisable when traveling through the rift, yet the trifle served at dinner contains bananas. Little details like this show that this mammoth project is ultimately a fractured project and instead of emanating new insight these fractures unveil the crumbling substance of the piece itself. The Bordurian substance then, a mostly consistent design reminiscent of the socialist GDR in the 70s, falters behind the drab facades and curtains.

It all has to do with expectations, really. Having experienced the meticulous location detail and research that went into other promenade shows (think Punchdrunk or Signa) this one disappoints. However, it has to be acknowledged that with its aim to be more than just a variation on a theme and actually follow the plot of the play the production has set itself a difficult task.

The tagline of the performance is “Does murder sleep?” and the answer to that is “Yes, very well, thank you.” Why I was made to stay overnight remains a mystery as the main action is all wrapped up by 1 am, no murderous shouts or midnight wandering. I suppose, there’s nothing like being woken up after five hours of sleep, made to climb up seven flights of stairs to stand on a wet East London roof top to witness the fizzled out after pains of a promenade performance. Astonishing clear view over London with a cup of coffee and Bordurian ramblings around me – odd, but definitely an experience. Clearer than anything else in this show is the potential of what could have been.

Jersey Boys tells the remarkable story of the rise to fame of the vocal pop band Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons. From their humble beginnings in a blue-collar neighbourhood in Newark, New Jersey, to their acceptance into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the band has contributed countless influential songs to the popular musical canon: “Sherry”, “Walk Like A Man” and “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”, to name only a few. Here, each of the four members Tommy DeVito, Bob Gaudio, Nick Massi and Frankie Valli share their different perspectives on the history of the band.

While some jukebox musicals only excel in awkwardly pressing previously released songs into thinly spun narratives, Jersey Boys, with its biographical story, handles the transition of chart hits onto the stage much more smoothly. In the same vein as Buddy – The Buddy Holly Story, personal anecdotes and tragic moments are interspersed with renditions of some of The Four Seasons’ most successful hits. For those who aren’t hardcore fans of the band, which was originally formed in 1960, there are several aha moments. For example, when the first bars of “Big Girls Don’t Cry” start to play, the audience suddenly becomes aware who actually penned the famous opening song from Dirty Dancing.

The cage-like set proves to be very versatile and can convincingly be turned into a prison, mobster hideout, a recording studio or even a church with only a few stylised alterations.
Atmospheric background projections inspired by pictures of American photographer George Tice or colourful Pop Art illustrations reminiscent of Roy Lichtenstein’s art help the fast-paced action, especially in the first part of the first act which seems a bit rushed and fragmented in places. Because of the distinct focus on telling the story and introducing a lot of characters, the music steps into the background. It is a bold decision for a musical, but one that pays off because it lends more gravitas to scenes of a more emotional nature later on. Half an hour in, the show settles into a more comfortable but still snappy pace and allows more space for story and songs to interlink.

Behind Frankie Valli’s “angelic” voice there are surprising things to discover about the Four Seasons. As many modern day pop stars can vouch for, coming of age in the limelight is not easy, and performer Dan Burton does a convincing job in portraying the impressionable 17-year old Francis Castellucio who grows into the worldly-wise entertainer Frankie Valli.

There’s a lot more going on under the hood of this musical than one would imagine from the outset and the glossy surface. The characters find themselves confronted with various figurations of family and delicate questions of friendship and loyalty. Themes of manhood and creative power struggles are explored and more than one relationship falls victim to success. Several poignant moments let us witness how show business is not always about glitter jackets and perfectly coiffed quiffs (and here the production and costume design deserves an honourable mention), but about broken hearts and broken promises too. There are also hints about the involvement of the mafia in the success of the group, and we even meet now famous actor Joe Pesci as a kid meddling with other people’s affairs (Ben Jennings in an eerily accurate impersonation), adding a splash of Italian-American attitude that television audiences have come to love in The Sopranos. In a way, Jersey Boys is as much a success story of a music group as it is a surprisingly unaffected retelling of the American Dream.

Matthew Wycliffe gives a beautifully understated and convincing performance as Bobby Gaudino, the band’s song writer. And there is a monologue in which he claims that they might not have caused a musical revolution like The Beatles, but in their time they were nothing less than the musical heroes of America’s working class.

However, even with all of the praise, it has to be mentioned that the show I went to see had a lot of understudies performing instead of the main cast, and there were some obvious technical difficulties with the sound mixing. For a show that has been running for over four years, this is simply inexcusable. Also, if vocal pop from the 60s isn’t your kind of music and jukebox musicals leave you cold, you’d better give this one a pass.

But, generally, it’s not hard to see why this musical has been showered with awards all over the world and this London production is no exception. It is funny, sometimes touching, has a great look and definitely a unique sound that’ll stay with you long after the last curtain call. “Oh What A Night” indeed!