Act one of Fangirls opens with a motorbike chase, fight scene and cinematic moment of togetherness. From there, it launches its audience into a world of social media chatrooms, school playgrounds, teenage bedrooms and even the mosh pit of a boyband arena tour.
The plot follows Edna, a lovestruck teenager who worries for the mental health of popstar Harry from the carefully manufactured and internationally famous Heartbreak Nation. His lyrics pour into her ears when she’s lonely and provide her, and her entire friendship group, with never-ending joy, gossip and social media content that inspires passionate fan fiction. It’s a story of toxic creativity, fragile friendships and love in various guises.
Evenly paced, this isn’t a show that rushes to its conclusion so needs a very tight ensemble to propel it forward. Thankfully, it has an exceptionally strong cast with every vocal, physical and comedic talent put to effective use throughout. Certainly, an ensemble of characters (although occasionally veering towards caricature) each has multiple moments to shine and share their own viewpoint.
As Edna, Jasmine Elcock commands the stage in a beautifully unassuming way, making it easy to believe she really is 14. With such a portrayal, it would be hard for even the hardest of heart not to root for Edna as she tries to stop being the underdog in her own story. And of course, by the law of all teenage dramas, she must have bitchy and ditzy friends—Mary Malone and Miracle Chance flounce it up marvellously as Jules and Brianna delivering teenage pettiness in spades.
As Edna’s mum Caroline, Debbie Kurup gives a powerhouse of a performance, so it’s a shame that her character’s backstory is underdeveloped beyond being a strong single mum.
Fangirls sits in the grand tradition of teen trauma musicals with shades of Mean Girls, Spring Awakening and Dear Evan Hansen present in theme and choreography. It stands alone in tone, however, revelling in being slightly ridiculous without minimising the experiences of its characters. It brushes with serious themes but doesn’t explore them too deeply, which may be frustrating for some but is perhaps the point. In a noisy world full of information, voices get overlooked and circumstances glossed over—a constantly updating newsfeed distracting the eye.
And for those with a short attention span, there is plenty to keep you engaged here, from consciously brash lighting to the use of video screens, plenty of quick and trendy costume changes and even a spot of audience interaction to open the second act. The staging may appear minimal, but it’s carefully honed.
Lyrically, there are some visceral moments alongside affectionate Gen Z clichés from a cast that are certainly not afraid to sing out. Songs such as "Learning to be Lonely" and "Disgusting" capture teenage angst sensitively and are in stark contrast to the often-aggressive numbers from the choir of fans who all profess to love Harry in a way no one else understands.
All in all, this is a fabulously fun, slick and flashy show which will appeal to anyone who’s ever loved a boyband (and perhaps some Swifties too). With impressive vocals, message of empowerment and plenty of laughs I’m sure it’ll gather its own fangirls during the run.