Street Cries

Dylan Thomas set his classic Under Milk Wood in the fictional Welsh town of Llareggub (“Bugger all” backwards), exposing the unspoken anxieties of sleeping villagers. Mitch Féral's dark musical comedy Street Cries shifts focus to Logodom: a post-riot version of London where there’s a banker in every Ferrari and a junkie under every overpass.

Writer and lead actor Féral shares Thomas’s love for the sound and shape of words, although this is more explicitly satirical. It shows an admirable contempt for subtlety. The opening transitions from Dick Van Dyke cockneyisms to grim modern day, then touches on everything from homelessness to the royal wedding in broad, dingy caricature. There is a certain charm to the relentless bile, the relentless charmlessness.

The music and verse effortlessly switch from Ian Drury-esque odes to commuting to a tango for arms dealers. Indeed performers Féral and Kelly Craig deserve special praise: this is a slick production anchored by their versatile talent. At its best and starkest Street Cries is funny and truly memorable, even moving.

Yet the targets—bankers and hoodies and Chelsea girls—are too familiar, too easy. Street Cries offers no new approach beyond tunefulness. Worse, it occasionally dips into earnest proclamation. The result is unintentionally funny and makes the show seem condescending without warrant.

This is a shame. The quality on show here deserves more fundamental thought underpinning it. As it stands, Street Cries is a droll tour of modern day Logodom, with insight that is closer to Llareggub.