Nottingham Theatre Royal played host this week to a slick, stylish production of Chicago that didn’t just dazzle—it made you think. This wasn’t just jazz hands and fishnets; it was a biting, blackly comic commentary on celebrity, corruption, and the machinery of fame, wrapped in Fosse flair and delivered with ferocious precision.
Janette Manrara, stepping from Strictly Come Dancing to the stage, brought real dimension to Roxie Hart. Her Roxie wasn’t just a wannabe starlet with a pistol—she was calculating, self-aware, and disturbingly charming. Manrara’s dance pedigree gave her an edge in the choreography, but it was her comic timing and self-satisfied smirks that sealed the deal.
Djalenga Scott’s Velma Kelly was a masterclass in control—icy, ambitious, and endlessly watchable. She slithered through each number with the coiled energy of someone who knows the world owes her something and plans to collect. Her “I Can’t Do It Alone” was a highlight: part plea, part threat, wholly compelling.
Brenda Edwards as Matron “Mama” Morton brought down the house with “When You’re Good to Mama,” equal parts gospel growl and political manifesto. We first saw Edwards years ago in We Will Rock You, belting her way through the role of Killer Queen. Seeing her again in Chicago was a thrill—still a vocal powerhouse, still commanding the stage, this time with a sly, transactional charm that made her Mama both magnetic and mercenary.
Meanwhile, Joshua Lloyd’s Amos Hart turned the show’s emotional undercurrent into something quietly profound. His “Mister Cellophane” wasn’t just funny-sad—it was a pointed reminder of what society values (and what it doesn’t).
The on-stage orchestra, perched like a Greek chorus of brass and bass, set the tone for a show that never let you forget it was a performance. That’s the genius of Chicago: its Brechtian wink. The minimalist set, the monochrome costumes, the actors breaking the fourth wall—it all serves a story where justice is theatre, headlines are currency, and truth is negotiable.And the choreography? Pure Fosse. Angular, sexy, ironic. “Cell Block Tango” landed like a punch, each vignette a little tragicomic masterpiece. “Razzle Dazzle” lived up to its name, all glitter and grin with just enough menace beneath the sparkle.
This production understands Chicago isn’t about glamour for glamour’s sake—it’s about the brutal efficiency of performance, onstage and off. In an age where fame is still bought and sold, Chicago remains not just relevant, but eerily prescient.Smart, sharp, and unapologetically seductive, this was Chicago at its best—and Nottingham knew it.
