I’ve always loved musicals about musicians, especially when they feature original songs. It’s a delicate balance: a show must be theatrical enough for those who come for the story, and feel like a gig for those who come for the music — while offering something unforgettable for those, like me, who come for both. It’s this dual appeal that makes a musical about musicians truly compelling, and Sunny Afternoon did not disappoint.
Now, there are tour stops – and then there are moments of genuine cultural symmetry. When Sunny Afternoon arrived at New Theatre Oxford this week (10 February 2026), it carried more than its four Olivier Awards and a reputation as one of the UK’s most successful jukebox musicals. It returned to the very city where The Kinks made their official debut.
On 01 February 1964, Ray and Dave Davies, alongside Mick Avory and Pete Quaife, stepped onto the stage at Oxford Town Hall under their newly adopted name, having shed The Ravens. More than sixty years later, the musical that charts their rise returned their story to the city where it all began — and the resonance was immediate.
Featuring an original story with music and lyrics by Ray Davies, and a book by award-winning writer Joe Penhall, Sunny Afternoon traces The Kinks’ euphoric highs and agonising lows. It is a portrait of youthful ambition colliding with fame, creative friction, and the turbulence of 1960s Britain — a decade Davies has described as bright and exhilarating after the shadow of the Second World War.
From the outset at New Theatre Oxford, the production’s strength is clear: the music. You Really Got Me crashes in with electric force; All Day and All of the Night bristles with defiance; Waterloo Sunset floats with lyrical tenderness; Lola lands with playful knowingness; Dead End Street and Sunny Afternoon capture both grit and melancholy.
The audience’s response was immediate and infectious. Applause punctuated the opening bars of almost every number; feet tapped, heads nodded, and smiles spread across the rows. By the final stretch, restraint had dissolved entirely, and the atmosphere had shifted unmistakably from theatre to gig – a communal celebration of sound, story, and the timeless energy of The Kinks.
That vitality is no accident. Ray Davies has admitted that seeing his life translated to the stage was “daunting at first.” He spent years shaping the storyline, wary of producing “just another jukebox musical.” For him, the story was already embedded in the songs. “The songs were written in such specific moments of my life,” he has reflected. “Now they’ve been reinterpreted, given new context. It’s humbling… proof that the music still has a pulse.”
Penhall and Davies resisted the temptation to “cook up some filler to cash in.” Instead, they aimed to create a show “every bit as good as a great Kinks record — the same power to move, the same sophistication, emotion and wit.” Penhall recalls early workshops with just a piano, a handful of actors, and tambourines, learning Waterloo Sunset note-perfect. That intimacy and the collaborative trust between writer and musician underpin the show’s authenticity.
At its dramatic core lies the combustible relationship between Ray and Dave. Creative rivalry, familial loyalty, and bruised egos intertwine as the band navigates management battles, financial strain, and the infamous American touring ban. Davies has spoken of initially distancing himself from the material — “pretending it was about somebody else” — while Penhall and director Edward Hall “held up a mirror” to events, expanding and interrogating his memories.
The result is a narrative that avoids hagiography. The Kinks are presented not as untouchable legends but as driven, flawed young men from Muswell Hill, grappling with class ceilings, artistic identity, and sudden global attention. As Penhall observes, they were “the perennial outsiders — punk before punk — ‘Misfits.’” That outsider spirit resonates today: questioning authority, pushing against class constraints, and chasing authenticity are struggles that feel timeless.
The live band and ensemble are the beating heart of the production. The actors double as musicians, switching instruments fluidly, layering guitar riffs over harmonies, and driving the narrative through music rather than exposition alone. Each performance captures the immediacy and rawness that characterised The Kinks’ early gigs, making the audience feel as if they are witnessing the band live in 1964 London — or at least as close as a modern theatre audience can get.
Visually, the production balances momentum with period texture. Fluid set transitions, costumes evoking Swinging Sixties Britain, and dynamic lighting shifts create a sense of movement that mirrors the band’s rapid rise. Nothing feels static or artificial; the aesthetic never overshadows the performers but frames them, enhancing the story while keeping the energy taut and constant.
The Oxford run is particularly meaningful. These performances are not simply another date on a tour; they reconnect the city with a pivotal piece of its own cultural history. Audience reaction reflected that awareness: there was palpable pride, spontaneous cheering, and an audible sense of joy when the band’s first Oxford debut was referenced. It is rare for a musical to carry such historical and emotional resonance simultaneously, but Sunny Afternoon achieves it with apparent ease.
The show also succeeds in balancing the universal and the specific. While rooted in a very particular British story, the struggles of ambition, sibling rivalry, and artistic integrity are instantly relatable. Davies has observed that every generation experiences its own rebellion. “The 60s were our revolution,” he said, “but the spirit of that time — questioning authority, chasing authenticity — never really disappears.” That universality is part of why the show continues to resonate with audiences, young and old.
Penhall notes that very little has changed in the production since its original West End premiere more than a decade ago. If anything, he suggests, it feels “more powerful and resonant since Covid.” Scenes that once felt historical now feel immediate. Moments of national euphoria — such as the 1966 World Cup celebration depicted on stage — carry fresh parallels in the present day. Fractious American episodes also strike contemporary chords.
Ultimately, Sunny Afternoon succeeds because it honours both the music and the humanity behind it. The songs are living artefacts, capable of speaking anew to each generation. For newcomers like myself, it was a revelatory introduction to a band whose music remains vital; for long-time fans, a joyous celebration of their legacy. Davies has expressed that he hopes audiences leave humming the tunes but also reflecting on a story “about resilience… about keeping your head when the world’s spinning too fast.” That hope is realised.
More than sixty years after four young musicians first stood on an Oxford stage under a new name, their story still resonates — loud, rebellious, and unmistakably alive. And judging by the response at New Theatre Oxford, it always will.
Sunny Afternoon is on at New Theatre Oxford until Saturday 14 February 2026
The post Sunny Afternoon – genuine cultural symmetry as the story of “The Kinks” comes home to Oxford appeared first on The Oxford Magazine.
from The Oxford Magazine https://ift.tt/dfH5O2x
via IFTTT
Comments
Post a Comment