Sunny Afternoon

Ray Davies (music and lyrics), Joe Penhall (book)

Sonia Friedman Productions, ATG Productions

Palace Theatre, Manchester

October 11-18, 2025; 2hrs 45 mins

(also Sunderland Empire, November 4-8; York Grand Opera House, November 11-15; Leeds Grand Theatre, February 24-28, 2026, Blackpool Grand Theatre, April 28-May 2; Liverpool Empire, May 19-23)

Danny Horn, Oliver Hoare, Zakarie Stokes and Harry Curley are The Kinks in Sunny Afternoon. All pics: Manuel Harlan

There are all sorts of reasons for loving a jukebox musical. Reliving your youth is the usual one - and there was no shortage of 1966 originals among the Sunny Afternoon audience at the Palace Theatre.

Hearing iconic songs played well by a superior tribute band is another. Then there's the back story: seeing a dramatic telling of the band's trials and setbacks on its way to the top.

In theory, Sunny Afternoon, directed by Edward Hall and choreographed by Adam Cooper, has all of these. But this production only gets one of the three really right.

The songs, of course, are everything. Most of us knew most of the words: Sir Ray Davies has a crystal clarity in his writing and diction that meant even in 1964, when pop music output was limited to pirate ships and Radio Luxembourg, we could easily learn the wry, sharp poetry coming from our tinny transistors.

Whether the sound designer (Matt McKenzie) intended to replicate this poor quality audio is unclear, but I suspect not. Last night the output from the head mics was patchy, so some of the dialogue was lost, and the overall sound quality had my neighbours (it wasn’t just my ears) shaking their heads in dismay.  Ironically the set, designed by Miriam Buether, is entirely made up of banks of 1970s-style speakers, a giant version of my age-appropriate brother-in-law’s music room (his artist of choice, though, is Shirley Bassey…).

The first half of the show is, frankly, a bit dull, but with the puppy-ish enthusiasm of a high school production. It rattles through the poignant background of the much-loved older sister who died of congenital heart failure; the cramped second-floor flat in Muswell Hill, North London, and the relationship between the brothers (more tolerate/hate than love/hate) with an almost disrespectful speed.

And what of these two siblings, who set the bar so high for rivalry and discord that it took 25 years before their like was seen again in the warring Gallaghers of Oasis?

Danny Horn as Ray had the nerves, the stammer, the meek capacity to do as he was told, but somehow not the poetic soul. Oliver Hoare as Dave – arguably an easier role, involving as it does a great deal of charging about drunk, swinging from chandeliers and wrecking things – again looked the part.  He had great hair, (by Carole Hancock) and impeccable "Dedicated Follower of Fashion" 1960s gear (also Miriam Buether), but exhibited little depth.

The arguments, the fisticuffs, the world cup celebrations, the trashing of equipment on stage by Dave the Rave is all there, but somehow sanitised. The disastrous attempt to make it in America is as confusing as it was at the time, while the souring relationship with the other band members feels superficial.

But as I said, this is all about the songs, which included one surprise for me – I hadn’t known the Pretenders’ Stop your Sobbing was written by Ray Davies. You live and learn.

They save everyone’s favourite singalong until last, of course. The sight of rows of men of a certain age belting out a paean to transvestites is both weird and heartwarming, and however bittersweet their other triumphs, The Kinks will always have the cultural phenomenon that is Lola. 

More info and tickets here