Who would the Fab Four be without their fifth member? Would Beatlemania have existed at all? Would their US success have even been possible? And those albums – would they have given it all up before they’d had the chance to create the likes of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band or Revolver?
In Tom Wright’s play, the band steps back from their microphones, allowing the spotlight to fall instead on Brian Epstein – their manager, and the man who first discovered their raw genius and propelled it into global superstardom. Tracking his discovery of the band at the Cavern Club, Wright’s bio-drama shows us the belief Epstein had in the band from the very beginning, as well as the role he played in shaping them into the group the world came to know. But as the Beatles rise – playing bigger shows to ever more frenzied fans – Epstein falls, descending into a life fuelled by sex and addiction.
Most of all, Please, Please Me is a kind of love story between Epstein and John Lennon. In fact, Lennon is the only member of the Beatles we actually see on stage in this production, directed by Kiln boss Amit Sharma. When Epstein first sets eyes on the band, it is Lennon’s shadowy figure that emerges, lit by the stage lights and dressed in leather. While the other ‘boys’ are mentioned in passing, this is an all-blinkers on exploration of Epstein’s infatuation with Lennon.
Of course, creative licence shapes the central relationship. But Epstein was a gay man at a time when homosexuality was still illegal, and Lennon did once describe their relationship as ‘almost a love affair, but not quite’. Whatever the truth, Wright’s interpretation makes for compelling theatre. After all, Epstein was the man who gave the Beatles their image and hearing the secrets from inside a band’s hotel and dressing rooms will always have a draw.
Calam Lynch acts for his life as Epstein, moving from a stiff shouldered record shop owner, to an LSD-loving, word-slurring drunk. From their first meeting, he is entranced by Noah Ricketts’ Lennon, who settles into his soft Scouse tones as the evening unfolds, and together their scenes pulse with will-they-won’t-they, what the hell is this, chemistry. Best of all, though, is Eleanor Worthington-Cox, who shape-shifts between roles, from a note-perfect, instantly recognisable Cilla Black (who was also managed by Epstein) to Lennon’s naïve wife, Cynthia.
Some factual stuff drifts in and out of the script without really being contextualised or having an obvious impact on anyone. When Epstein signs away the Beatles’ merchandise rights, Lennon mentions it and laughs, then moves on. And, when his briefcase, full of cash and pills, is stolen by his lover, Epstein’s anguish never plays out on stage.
This creates a somewhat jumpy trajectory; one minute Epstein is all smiles, the next he is drinking himself into oblivion. Nevertheless, this is a compelling piece of music history and well worth it if you’re a fan of the band.
