Shirley Valentine review: Sheridan Smith gives off enough warmth to heat the theatre by herself

On stage at least, I sometimes find Sheridan Smith to be a bit much. She was great in the early days in the likes of Into the Woods, Little Shop of Horrors and Legally Blonde. But she gave off-puttingly arch performances in Funny Girl and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat that practically screamed ‘Love me!’ at the audience.

She is, however, superb in the revival of Shirley Valentine that is currently playing a limited run at the Duke of York’s Theatre. Maybe director Matthew Dunster had a quiet word. Maybe it’s because Willy Russell’s script is a perfect fit for her bubbly personality. Maybe it’s even because, at age 41 (playing 42), she’s in a much better place emotionally and physically after struggles with alcohol and mental health.

Either way, she’s not playing Sheridan here, she’s 100% Shirley – a loveably Liverpudlian working class Scousewife who yearns for adventure. She’s a middle-aged mother of two whose best friend is the kitchen wall, which she talks to when making dinner (chips and egg, of course) for a husband who no longer excites her.

She talks to the audience, too, in what is a gift of a part for any actress able to tap into its humour and grit. Smith is hilarious when musing about the clitoris as she glugs wine as “a posh way of getting pissed”. And she gives off enough northern warmth to heat the theatre by herself.

Russell’s script sings with great lines and melancholic meditations on being stuck in a rut. It requires a lot of its leading lady and Sheridan is more than up to the job. It’s a one-woman show in which she does not just Shirley’s voice but also those of her husband, son and daughter. And not only those; she does her younger self at school, a high-class sex worker she mistakes for an air hostess and assorted friends and neighbours.

In act two Shirley plucks up the courage to defy her husband and head off on a two-week holiday to Greece. So we get the voices of disgruntled Brits abroad, Greek waiters and a randy taverna owner named Costas. The latter’s cheesy come-ons prompt her to declare “Aren’t men full of shit?” in what becomes a heartwarming voyage of discovery.

In a nice touch, in the first act Shirley’s pink jumper and light green trousers match the kitchen decor – showing just how entrenched she is in her confining surroundings. Then she’s in shorts and a T-shirt as she lazes on the beach with a rock rather than a wall for company.

It’s a lo-fi production but there’s no call for fancy scenery when you have such a star turn at the centre. Finding her true self in Greece, our heroine calls herself “Shirley the sensational”. I left the theatre thinking Sheridan was sensational too.

Rating: 4/5

Shirley Valentine is at the Duke of York’s Theatre, London, until 3 June. Get tickets here.