“Incredibly joyous and bound to leave a smile on your face”
Anyone fancy a pint? “The Choir of Man” rolls into Nottingham, bringing with it a pub filled with entertainment, friendly faces and incredible talent. Once the pints have been pulled (yes, there’s plenty of free booze on offer), audiences settle down for an evening filled with covers of all sorts of rock and pop hits, all performed by a cast of 9 men, in a celebration of male friendship and the importance of the pub in British culture. Everything from Freddie Huddleston’s choreography to Jack Blume’s musical direction makes the evening feel spontaneous and natural – nothing is overly polished, yet performed with such precision that it is all immaculately put together. Music is interspersed by monologues written by Ben Norris, sheer poetry that explores our love of the pub and a good night out, and why it holds such importance in our lives.
“The Choir of Man” is a series of scenes, or vignettes, some funny, some more heartfelt, each one allowing a different cast member to take centre stage. The purpose of each segment is never overly spelled out. There is a clear commentary on men’s mental health here – there is an undercurrent of loneliness and grief running through the entire performance – but we are not bashed over the head with heavy-handed themes or messages, everything is left open to interpretation. This is a clear dramatic choice, and speaks to the wider context of the play – the idea that men often struggle to express themselves, rarely connect on a deeper level or open up about things that are bothering them. The men we see on stage are real, and therefore the focus is on their performance and their ability to build a house of cards, rather than hearing them deliver monologues that might feel fake, unnatural or overly theatrical.
Having said that, there are moments that hint at more emotional aspects to the men we see on stage. Sam Walter performs Adele’s “Hello” whilst the other men crowd round a TV screen to watch a game, a clear demonstration of feeling isolated despite being surrounded by others. Paul Simon’s “50 ways to leave your lover” hint at romantic turmoil for Jack Skelton, and the show concludes with a rendition of Scottish folk song “The Parting Glass”, as actors/characters raise a glass to those we have lost, to the friends and family that we long to share one last drink with. We don’t need to know any more about the men we see on stage – we don’t need to know who they are mourning for, or why their relationship is on the rocks. By retaining this ambiguity, we inevitably fit these moments to our own lives, helping every single person in the room relate to the show in a slightly different way. It is a notion that I haven’t ever really seen before in theatre, and one that leaves you with a profound sense that what you have just witnessed was put together specifically for you.
It is hard to separate the characters from the actors here. Each character is referred to onstage by the actors’ real names, and the programme reduces them to simple characteristics – Levi Tyrell Johnson is credited as the “Hard Man” and Ben Mabberley as the “Joker”. The poetic interludes are delivered by Oluwalonimi Owoyemi, which help to reiterate the importance of the pub. Owoyemi makes clear that everyone is welcome here, inviting audience members onto the stage for a pint of beer – or a J2O for the non-drinkers, there’s no judgement. The pub isn’t about drinking, it isn’t about singing or watching sport, it’s about being together – and that is the core message of the show. At one point, Owoyemi gives us a brief description of where each cast member comes from – and these are true stories, talking about their childhood, and what home means to them. Again, this is nothing too in-depth, it is superficial but that’s what makes it important – “home” is being scared of granddad’s chickens, playing games with your brother, or swallowing Kung Po prawns whole. Those small hits of nostalgia that you get whenever you return to the places you grew up.
Audience interaction is handled magnificently, every audience member that is welcomed onto the stage treated with respect regardless of their levels of confidence or embarrassment. There is nothing here that is trying to make fun of people, the cast welcome the audience onto the stage with gentle smiles of encouragement to just “be themselves”. Rob Godfrey serenades a female audience member with Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”, and Aaron Pottenger teams up with a male audience member to build the perfect house of cards whilst singing Frank Sinatra’s “The Impossible Dream”. Gustav Melbardis leads the audience in a sing-a-long of The Proclaimers “I’m Gonna Be”, and Joshua Lloyd hunts for his next romantic conquest as the rest of the cast sing Queen’s “Somebody to Love”. It is all incredibly joyous and bound to leave a smile on your face.
The talent on display is incredible – Jack Skelton performs a superb tap-dancing number, and each cast member plays instruments, making the stage come alive in a variety of different ways. Yet the standout moment is when the instruments are put aside, and an acapella version of Sia’s “Chandelier” is performed. In each location of this UK tour, the production teams up with local choirs to accompany them in this rendition, so following an extraordinary performance by the 9 cast members, we are then treated to a performance by 250 local singers, in Nottingham from The Collaboration Choir, Pipes, Liberty Singers, Beeston Voices Community Choir, and Totally Vocally Acapella Choir. The choir members are all in the audience, so when they stand to sing, you find yourself surrounded by voices of all different ages, genders, pitches and ability. It is a beautiful moment, and one that perfectly encapsulates the feeling of community that sits at the heart of this production. As the choirs sing “I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist”, they already are.
Every Sunday, I meet up with my old school friend Chris for a drink at our local pub. Now, we live on opposite sides of the city, so we alternate between a pub near his and a pub near mine. We talk about family, work, politics, mutual friends and the latest episode of ‘The Apprentice’. Our conversations are never particularly in-depth. Sometimes we just sit and play cards. It is an incredibly small moment that on the face of it seems rather insignificant amidst life’s bigger events. Yet “The Choir of Man” celebrates those moments and tells us just how important they are. This is a production that doesn’t try to tell a big story, doesn’t go out of its way to make you feel something or make you question something, it just exists to make you smile and to make life a little bit more enjoyable. So, Chris – same time on Sunday?
Tom Morley, June 2026
Review Round-up:
All That Dazzles: The Choir of Man – 5* from ATD reviewer Rosie Holmes, who calls this “a reminder of the true power of theatre with hundreds of strangers, laughing together, singing together and occasionally wiping away tears together”
Northern Arts Review: The Choir of Man – Also 5* from Norther Arts reviewer Lauren Powell, who calls this “one of the easiest five stars I have ever given”, saying she “laughed”, “cried” and “clapped so hard [her] hands still hurt”
Lisa in the Theatre: The Choir of Man – 3* from Lisa in the Theatre, who says “it’s cheerfully entertaining, but there’s not much to it”
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