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Fletcher breaks through into the big time here: tuneful, thoughtful, tilting between cattiness and compassion, morality and devil-may care. Up there with Hamilton? No, that’s the point.
This musical version has its edgy moments, as well it might, given that many of these problems have only got worse in the last thirty years. But the tone of the vivacious pop-rock score, with its droll, snarky lyrics, is predominantly exuberant camp.
With a catalogue of fantastic songs and a belting cast too, Heathers takes schmaltz and sop and smashes them into smithereens with a blood-red croquet mallet.
However, if the screams in the stalls are anything to go by, this show is bringing in a new, excitable audience, partly that’s thanks to Carrie. Her personable demeanour on social media and YouTube make her relatable to – mostly – teenage girls, so she is the perfect fit to play Veronica.
But in making the tale so breezy, so incredibly loud, both literally and metaphorically, it shouts out all possibility for nuance and understanding.
The music is so generic it falls out of your memory as soon as you leave the theatre, with the exception of two lovely ballads.
And three, singer and YouTube star Carrie Hope Fletcher really is terrific in the role of Veronica, the protagonist and de facto fourth Heather, who finds herself torn between them, JD, and her conscience.