Let It Be

You could write a mathematical equation that expresses the wig-length to psych-out lighting ratio in this show, and as both of these elements shift upward through the gears Let It Be delivers all you'd hope for from a Beatles tribute.

The evening progresses more or less chronologically through the Fab Four's back catalogue like the compilation album 1, from the Please Please Me early days to the final hurrahs of Let It Be and Abbey Road via a more than liberal sprinkling of Sgt. Pepper era mind-expansion.  The outlandish costumes feel authentic, there's plenty of old archive footage of the Cavern Club and Beatlemania reaching its apex at Shea Stadium, and there's some very smart additional AV riffing on the classic LP sleeves as well as the 1968 animated Yellow Submarine movie.

We know it's all an act but it's fairly ruddy convincing.  Each performer is excellent as his duly designated mop-top, the mannerisms and facial expressions learnt almost as well as the songs.  Enthusiastic crowdpleaser Ringo and staid and stoic George are both ably embodied by Luke Roberts and Ian B Garcia respectively – Roberts smashing the drum break in The End right out of the Concert Hall and Garcia setting fire to the solo in While My Guitar Gently Weeps with such dexterity and feeling that he gives Eric Clapton himself a run for his money.  Standing ovations more than earned in both cases for these chaps.

Treading the line between the sardonic and the downright dour was Paul Canning's personification of John: “Would the people in the cheaper seats clap your hands.  And the rest of you, if you'd just rattle your jewellery.”  Acerbic wit and caustic delivery?  Aye, Cap'n.  Canning's musical highlights include Strawberry Fields Forever and a chilling performance of A Day In The Life.

And hats off to the infectiously good-natured and smiley Emanuele Angeletti, as relentlessly cheerful a Paul as you're ever going to see.  This Prince Charming was the glue that held the band together then and now.  Flawless vocals and top marks for historical accuracy, given that the right-handed Angeletti has taught himself to play bass left-handed for the purpose of this show – and he didn't miss a note.  By golly, that is no mean feat.

If you're lucky enough to be able to get Notts-talgic about the early Odeon Cinema gigs, or if you never got to see the real deal (perhaps you weren't yet an Apple in your mother's eye) but you want a worthy live surrogate, then Let It Be ticks all the boxes.  A driving pace, amusingly passable Liverpudlian accents, kitsch humour, some serious hippy-trippy lights (that wouldn't look out of place at a Pink Floyd tribute) – and justice done to the hits of the most important band in the history of rock 'n' roll.

Including, of course, the obligatory four-and-a-half hour rendition of Hey Jude.  Peace and love.

Let it Be plays at the Royal Concert Hall until Saturday 9 July 2016

Review by Ollie Smith