Sister Act

When Tony, BAFTA, Golden Globe and Oscar-winning star of stage and screen Maggie Smith departed this mortal coil on September 27, the wave of social media adulation celebrating her life’s remarkable work was tear-jerking, rabble-rousing and chuckle-inducing in equal measure. In the mix was, of course, her withering wonder as Mother Superior, trained on Whoopi Goldberg’s lounge singer on the run and in disguise as a nun in 1992’s cinematic Sister Act.  

 

Joseph Maher’s Bishop O’Hara reminds her of her duty, “You took a vow of hospitality for all in need,” as she tartly replies, with only the most meagre hint of regret, “I lied.”

 

One of the wittiest lines in the film, directed by Dirty Dancing helmer Emile Ardolino, receives a show-stealing twist in the goofily splendid musical. Helpmann Award-winning actor Genevieve Lemon scored one of the biggest laughs of the night when she stepped into Mother Superior’s habit on opening night of the Melbourne staging, held within the hallowed hall of the Regent Theatre, opposite Australian Idol alum Casey Donovan as irrepressible singer Deloris van Cartier.

 

They’re a mighty double act playing off each other with abundant charm in this musical version that’s been transplanted from Reno/San Francisco in the ‘90s to Philadelphia in the ‘70s, replacing the original soundtrack with a funkier soul train thanks to mellifluous music from EGOT-winner – Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony – Alan Menken, cheeky lyrics by Glenn Slater and a sassy book by Cheri and Bill Steinkellner. Playing out in a circular stained-glass framed set designed by Morgan Large, with radiant light cast onto shadowy church arches, this staging transforms into a Saturday Night Fever-style club in a jive-talking minute thanks to revolving panels laden with blazing lights trained on glimmering disco balls.

 

Gusty 9 to 5 lead Donovan brings heaps of heart to the Doloris role, a woman spurned by her musical manager/lover/gun-happy gangster Curtis (James Bryer) and cruelly gifted his partner’s cheap dyed-blue ‘fur’ coat as a kiss-off after the bopping opening number ‘Take Me to Heaven’. Gathering her dignity together, she turfs that rag in the dumpster out back, only to unwittingly witness Curtis in the act of another kiss-off, gunning down a henchman he suspects of whispering to Raphael Wong’s good cop steady Eddie who, it happens, had a crush on Doloris in high school. Spotted when she shrieks, the tuk-tuk chase that follows sets in motion Eddie’s ploy to pop her in witness protection at the comically named Our Ladies of Perpetual Sorrow until a much-delayed court case against Curtis can be held.

 

The movie came to life when an initially grumbling Doloris, resurrected as Sister Mary Clarence, takes it upon herself to whip their shambolic choir, out of time and tune, into angelic shape. The same is true of Menken’s jaunty musical, with particular props for an always-game Rhonda Burchmore as the bass-shuddering Sister Mary Lazarus. Bianca Bruce and Sophie Montague also shine as Sisters Mary Patrick (adorable Kathy Najimy in the movie) and Mary Robert, flourishing under the wing of the convent’s newest novice. Before long, a delightful Damien Bermingham’s Monsignor O’Hara has fully embraced Doloris’ Donna Summer-channelling, fusing into a new form halfway between Elton John and Liberace.

 

Soon, no one’s blending in, not even sweet, bashful Eddie. With their swinging swish splashed across newspapers and, in a very fun visual flourish replete with ‘70s appropriate ashtray ‘n’ fag, on TV too, it’s only a matter of time until Curtis and his cronies darken their doors, setting in motion a screwball showdown.

 

As directed by Bill Buckhurst and set to Alistair David’s snappy choreography, glorious spirit abounds in this devotedly daggy toe-tapper in which Donovan excels. Confession: there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that in these trying times. Not every musical has to rewrite the good book. Sometimes maximising the soul-enriching silly is all that’s required. Props, too, for not simply photocopying the film’s hymns, instead going in a new direction that climbs from the communal joy of the sister’s banger ‘Raise Your Voice’ to show-stopper ‘Spread the Love Around’, replete with spangly new sequinned habits, care of Large’s costumes. Even Mother Superior’s stony walls begin to crumble with the choir in full flight, as is right and proper. Praise be, indeed.