The Sapphires

This homespun Motown musical has such a huge heart, you want to forgive its every flaw. Inspired by his mother’s life, writer Tony Briggs tells of four aboriginal siblings who sing their way from Melbourne to war-torn Vietnam. Each also carries her own brand of love trouble into the heart of the jungle.

But the most fascinating aspects of this scenario are consigned to the programme. In lieu of any hint of political bite, real cultural context, or much dialogue, Briggs is bombastically determined to milk a feel good triumphalism in his book. But this tactic relies on your understanding of the exclusion and disadvantage that blighted the lives of these women and their latter-day counterparts: this, the show fundamentally fails to provide.

The design doesn’t help: garishly hyper-real, it knocks any trace of realism from the stage, and the choreography is depressingly lacklustre. Director Neil Armfield seems unable to modulate the emotional pitch of his production and the crassly-staged warfare scenes bomb.

What salvages the night is the passion and brio of the four female performers. Casey Donovan, Ngaire Pigram, Lisa Maza and Megan Sarmardin deliver increasingly raw, spine-tingling renditions of Motown classics, generating an irresistible, rare, and real rapport on stage. But in the end, it only serves to highlight the vast opportunity that’s been missed.