Five Guys Named Moe

With nary a storyline to speak of, save for the fantastical dream of a lovelorn drunk, plus a niggling concern that many in the audience are here chiefly to see Lester Freamon from The Wire, there’s plenty to dissuade one from catching this 20th anniversary revival of Five Guys Named Moe. Yet for sheer spirit-infusing fun, Clarke Peters’ high-energy musical framed around the tunes of jazz legend Louis Jordan is difficult to beat.

Lamenting the loss of his Lorraine, rheumy-eyed, rummy Nomax (Peters) is holed up in some godforsaken motel when he’s spirited away to the realm of Big Moe, Four-Eyed Moe, Eat Moe, Know Moe and Little Moe, the Wizard of Oz allusion reinforced by his ruby red Converse All Stars. Bewildered, Nomax initially resists the entreaties of the Moes to shape up and treat his woman better, while finding a few kindred spirits when he voices his frustrations with the fairer sex.

Peters has modified his book to include reference to reality television, which seems slightly pointless considering nostalgia remains the show’s overwhelming appeal - the draw of Jordan’s tremendous compositions, and the occasional sexism all delivered by the five guys who can truly hoof and sing. As the action shifts to the Funky Butt Club and Nomax takes time out to observe, the musical really starts to swing and you’ll be humming the tunes for weeks afterwards.