Ride the Cyclone is one of those musicals that’s probably best enjoyed if you don’t stop to think about it too much.
In the moment, it’s enormous fun. The songs are infectious, the performances are consistently excellent, and the production embraces its wonderfully bizarre premise with complete confidence. Yet, walking out of the theatre, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling of “Is that it?”
The story follows six members of a school choir who are killed when the Cyclone rollercoaster derails at a run-down amusement park. In purgatory, they meet Karnak, a fortune-telling automaton with a razor-sharp deadpan delivery, who offers them an impossible choice: one of them can return to life, but only if they can prove they deserve it more than the others.
It’s an intriguing concept, but one that never quite develops the emotional stakes it promises. Despite the characters literally competing for a second chance at life, there is surprisingly little sense of urgency. The competition often feels more like a framing device to string together a series of character showcases than the driving force of the narrative, making it difficult to become fully invested in who, if anyone, should survive.
Thankfully, what the show lacks in emotional depth, it more than makes up for in sheer theatrical energy.
The Southwark Playhouse production fully embraces the show’s eccentricity. The dilapidated amusement park setting is wonderfully realised in an intimate setting, with twisted rollercoaster tracks creeping into the auditorium and a revolving set that keeps the action fluid throughout. A carnival-style curtain is used to great effect, while imaginative props, from umbrellas and clouds to coffins and miniature houses, allow each character’s fantasy sequence to burst vividly into life.
Interestingly, whenever one character steps into their imagined world, the rest of the cast joins them without hesitation, fully committing to each fantasy before instantly snapping back into reality. It’s a clever theatrical device that reinforces the strange limbo the characters occupy.
Nathaniel Purnell is a delight as Karnak. His bone-dry sense of humour and unwavering poker face provide much of the show’s comedy, anchoring even its most absurd moments with effortless confidence.
Rebecca D’Lacey is wonderfully infuriating as Ocean, capturing every ounce of the character’s relentless overachievement and self-righteousness without ever making her feel one-dimensional.
Grace Galloway’s Jane Doe is mesmerising. Her haunting vocal performance is easily one of the evening’s highlights, effortlessly navigating dizzying scales and intricate arpeggios with astonishing precision. Every appearance feels otherworldly, making Jane’s mystery all the more compelling.
The individual character numbers vary in emotional impact. Ricky’s (Jack Maverick) explosive fantasy sequence feels like it could have been lifted straight out of The Rocky Horror Show. It’s gloriously ridiculous and one of the night’s most entertaining moments.
Elsewhere, the quieter songs prove far more affecting. Constance’s (Robyn Gilbertson) number carries a genuine sadness, perhaps because she’s the only character who seems to have reached a sense of peace with her death. Rather than desperately clinging to what she’s lost, she reflects on what her life has already given her, making her acceptance surprisingly moving.
Mischa’s story is equally heartbreakingly portrayed by Bartek Kraszewski. Beneath his aggressive exterior lies one of the few characters who truly understands everything he’ll never get to experience, and it’s in those quieter moments that Ride the Cyclone comes closest to delivering an emotional gut punch.
Josh Butler shines as Noel, whose showstopping number is among the strongest of the evening. Yet even here, the writing occasionally undercuts itself. His longing feels rooted more in nostalgia for a romanticised past than hope for a future, making it difficult to believe that returning to life is something he genuinely wants.
Every performer is fully committed, every musical number lands, and the production itself is imaginative, inventive and often hilarious.
But when a musical asks its audience to decide who deserves a second chance at life, it also has to convince us why that life matters. Ride the Cyclone never quite gets there. Instead, it dazzles with spectacle, humour and wonderfully weird ideas, leaving the heart of its story just out of reach. For a story about young people mourning the futures they’ll never have, it rarely pauses long enough to make us mourn them too.
***
Katie Reviews 