The Baker’s Wife - Review

The pétanque pitch and pilot oven light have been primed to welcome the audience, and promised new boulanger, to a far-flung Provençal town in this new adaptation of Stephen Schwartz and Joseph Stein’s, The Baker’s Wife.

Wafting delights, reminiscent of a Proustian tea-steeped madeleine, caress the taste buds of the audience and gust your senses with the accompaniment of a wonderfully crafted and embellished, underrated score at the London’s Menier Chocolate Factory.

Genevieve’s (Lucie Jones) voice rises as high as the leavened bread, elevating to the challenge of the commanding leading lady, whipping and icing the air with perfectly balanced yet emotive and nuanced, powerful performances of “Meadowlark” and “Where is the Warmth?” Problematically, however, these notes rise higher than the stakes of the plot. Without a rooting of her past, her relatability and likeability become muddled with her fickle nature. It is querysome that she would settle for the baker (Clive Rowe) as a spouse, and even more puzzling for her to turn down the opportunity for a vie a la Parisienne at the start of Act II.

We are left at odds with the motivation and drive behind the lead characters, with questions remaining unanswered that take more than a roving imagination to solve. From whence do the baker and his wife hail. How remote is this town where bread seems to be a luxury, not a commodity? What is the financial constitution of the characters? For all accounts, we would presume that the Marquis, gracefully and comically played by Michael Matus, would be able to drive into the neighbouring town in his celebrated Peugeot to collect the daily order of bread in this pre-War, pre-rationed era of rural France.

Dominique (Joaquin Pedro Valdes), the culprit behind the cuckold, gracefully masters the notes of “Proud Lady” with poise and control but fails to seduce the audience to run away with him. He slides his finger down his smooth, bare chest as he sings, “Next time I go to get the bread, I know exactly what I’ll wear, A belt that’s tight, a shirt that’s red, And open just enough to show a little hair.” We are left searching for the hair and waiting to be gripped by irresistible, tormenting passion.

Gordon Greenberg’s piece finds its footing in its levity, however lingers at the opportunity to exploit and expose the more farcical elements of Marcel Pagnol and Jean Giono’s original story. The rousing number “Bread” is hammed up to comedic perfection, while the implied frissons between characters, and the baker’s demise with alcohol and a vat of flour, could be kneaded further. The village idiot, Phillipe (Jack Gardner) and narration by Denise (Josefina Gabrielle) set the correct foundations for comedic disrepair.

With a clearer direction as to purpose and not shying away from the dark humour of the book, this countryside romp plays better as a comical satire than a cautionary tale of circumstance and romance.