Dream a Little Dream is the story of The Mamas and The Papas, the 60’s pop group who, more than any other band of musicians from that delirious decade, was responsible for the migration of the hippie culture to California, inspired by the lyrics of California Dreamin’.  The poster describes the show as ‘The nearly true story…’ indicating that some poetic license is being used in order to tell its tale, but other than condensing certain events and streamlining others, you’ll leave the theatre with a solid knowledge of what happened during those turbulent years.  You’ll also walk out of the Phoenix on a theatrical high, running many of the scenes over again in your head, wanting to hear most of those songs replayed and wishing you hadn’t donated your old Mamas and The Papas albums to a garage sale.

The show opens strong; on a mostly darkened stage we hear the almost ethereal sound of the opening lines to Dedicated to the One I Love floating out from somewhere in the middle of the set.  Once the song kicks in with all voices, the set lights up revealing the four familiar shapes and sizes of the band members who made up The Mamas and The Papas, and it gives you goose-bumps.  From there, under Michael Barnard’s smart direction, the show takes us back five years to the beginning of the story.  It moves sharply along from one scene to another with such theatrical pizzazz you could actually close your eyes and listen to the whole production as if it was an audio only presentation without losing a moment of enjoyment

The production isn’t without its problems, however.  The trio of singers that make up a kind of Greek Chorus commenting on the moral behavior of the band members while rehearsing in the Virgin Islands feels out of place.  The scene is a glimpse of something from a different show with a different rhythm.  There’s also a moment where Denny Doherty walks into a London nightclub and bumps into John Lennon.  Portraying famous people talking to each other is often awkward, particularly when those famous personalities are as well known as John Lennon, and here it comes across as simply odd.  Plus, cast member Beau Heckman’s portrayal of Ed Sullivan is so over the top with exaggerated Sullivan ticks and mannerisms, he’s not really doing an impersonation, it’s a parody.  It’s funny but it doesn’t feel right.  In of themselves, all of these scenes are perfectly fine in a different context, but when Dream a Little Dream has done such a wonderful job of recreating a sense of sixties reality, these moments break the spell. 

But the plusses are legion.  All four actors who make up the group have their characters nailed.  Michael Sample does the almost impossible task of making John Phillips – a massively creative talent but a dictatorial task master and an irresponsible person – likeable.  Evan Siegel gets the tone of Denny Doherty so right you fall into the trap of occasionally thinking you’re seeing the real thing.  His characteristic head tossing while performing is perfect.  Tori Anderson’s Michelle Phillips is not only the epitome of the attractive, California blonde but, in truth, she actually possesses a finer singing voice than the real thing.  But the centre of attention is Alisa Schiff Warner as the larger than life - in more obvious ways than one - Mama Cass.

The unique talent of Mama Cass was that she could not only blend in with the group’s harmonies when required, but her powerhouse voice was undeniably front and centre when singing lead, and she sang those lyrics with such refreshing, simplistic clarity she made us believe it was easy for all of us to sing that way, until we tried.  Alisa captures that essence of Mama Cass in both looks and sound.  Her rendition of Wild Women is a knockout, and her Dream A Little Dream – a song sang after we’re told that Cass has passed away – is a moving testament to a sadly missed performer with lyrics that, given the circumstances of the scene, sound more like a plea, “Dream a little dream… of me.”  The moment is both haunting and devastating when you realize that what we’re hearing is an echo of her final performance at the London Palladium; you may never think of  the song in the same way again.

When it comes to standing ovations, I tend to be a curmudgeon.  A standing-O should be reserved for something extra special.  Valley audiences tend to be generous in this respect by standing for almost everything.  If you go to the theatre often enough you’ll soon notice that not every presentation deserves such a demonstrative act of recognition.  With Dream A Little Dream I couldn’t wait to leap to my feet.

For more information regarding times, dates and tickets, CLICK HERE to go directly to the Phoenix Theatre website.