Drugs, dodgy men, a voice of painful, soul-aching honesty. Yup, 50-odd years before Amy Winehouse, the world was being wowed by the powerhouse vulnerability and gripping back story of Edith Piaf. Heat magazine wasn’t around in those days of course, so Piaf had the added allure of mystique. In light of our ongoing obsession with the supernaturally talented royally messing up their lives, Jamie Lloyd’s production of Pam Gems’ play Piaf, is indeed timely.
Having played to rapturous reviews at the Donmar Warehouse, and now settling into a stint at the Vaudeville, Piaf is a slight but never less than enthralling journey through the icon’s mysterious life. Even if you only have a passing knowledge of the songs and that distinctive rasping voice, Elena Roger’s performance as Piaf is worth the ticket price alone. Detailing Piaf’s ascent from Parisian street prostitute to diva addict, Roger is uncanny in her vocal impersonation and captivating in her portrayal of Piaf’s bedevilling unhappiness, reliance on men and electrifying personality.
Soutra Gilmore’s minimalist set is compellingly claustrophobic in the madness, only becoming serene when Piaf is in the spotlight and her voice takes flight. Gem’s script undoubtedly takes second billing to the acting on show here, although it does have its inspired moments, particularly when Piaf and Marlene Dietrich (Katherine Kingsley) are in tandem.
So what price on a Winehouse play of similar content in 50 years time? Perhaps knowing the whole story already renders it rather pointless.
Dan Pilkington
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