What an odd confection this touring show by Jason Donovan is. It’s ostensibly about the midlife crisis the ex-teen heartthrob is experiencing as he hits 50. But that’s barely discussed, save for an overlong video-and-voiceover at the start. And then I realised: this isn’t a show about Donovan’s midlife crisis, it’s an audacious dramatisation of that crisis, as the tensions between youth and maturity, past and present, sobriety and gaiety play out on stage.
The first half finds Jason in elder-statesman mode, and is a bit dull. He opens with an acoustic but showy version of Any Dream Will Do, before discussing his recent treatment for vocal strain. Presently, he sits down with a mysterious interviewer, here “to help me navigate the next 40 minutes”. A conversation ensues (first question: “Crisis? What crisis?”) that barely pretends to be spontaneous. (The show toured throughout the spring.)
Donovan struggles to transcend the format. He’s no great raconteur. One story about inviting the Neighbours dog, Bouncer, to a gig with him peters out before the punchline. Nor is he insightful, or very articulate. And, as the conversation marshals us through a Wikipedia-lite account of his awards, sales and achievements, he is given to Hallmark-card cliches. (“My growth”; “the arc of my talent”.) He is endearingly blunt about his foibles, but that is not enough to bring this stilted faux-interview to life.
That changes with a screening of his 80s videos, which supply a powerful charge of nostalgia to anyone who was there at the time, and act like rocket fuel for Donovan. He’s on his feet, ring-leading the mainly female crowd, whipping off his slacks to reveal ripped jeans. Next, he dons a gruesome orange coat from his 1989 promo When You Come Back to Me, then a blond mullet wig, the better to resemble his 19-year-old self.
As he flaunts his Smash Hits award and sings Too Many Broken Hearts, it is startling how much more alive Donovan is as a teenager than a half-centenarian. The show – crummy, exploitative, affecting – proves the old Coward adage about the power of cheap music, and cheap TV, to tap into our wonderment at the passing of time. I didn’t know whether to be sad at how desperately Donovan still wants to be that teenage heartthrob, or happy that – in all the meaningful ways – he still is.
- At Assembly George Square, Edinburgh, until 26 August. Then touring.
- Read all our Edinburgh festival reviews.
