Lenny Henry, by now, is a household name to anybody who keeps even mildly up-to-date on their popular comedians. We’ve seen him play countless roles in myriad personas, from chefs to (more recently) Shakespearean twins. Although he has played a few musically inclined characters in his TV shows (Delbert Wilkins, anyone?), what has been little known for a long time is that before he started down the path he is now on, he had high aspirations to actually be a musician, but as he grew up in a poor Jamacian family in England there simply was not the money for lessons, let alone to tune the piano in the middle of the lounge.

This show is Henry’s look back at his failed dream, his musical influences and a glimmer of hope that he might be able to make a go of a career as a crooner one day.

That’s not to say he hasn’t tried. His career was actually launched by a winning Elvis impression on a talent show (which got him the role in the very first all-black 70s British sit-com The Fosters) and along the way he sang backing vocals for Kate Bush (sneeze and you’ll miss them though!), got rejected by legendary producer Trevor Horn in the 80s and barely even blinked at by Simon Cowell when he tried again in the 90s. Now, after deciding it’s now or never, twelve years of piano lessons later, Henry puts it all on the line for us in a night that encompasses all of the above.

He’s certainly got a great voice. When he belts out ‘Jailhouse Rock’ or does a striking impression of Beyonce, even when hamming it up, he hits every note perfectly and retains the wit and warmth we love and admire of this well-seasoned performer. Maybe a musical could be in store for us soon in Henry’s broadening of his career as a thespian?

The stories he has work their way in and out of various periods, moods and styles, always with a slant to keeping us entertained and with Henry’s particularly pointed brand of brash observation. His stories weave and bob around each other nicely and through the designs of Musical Director Ken Bowley, which helps to set a perfect pace in the first half that pays off in the second. Characters (both the musical motifs and personifications of his family, inspirations and even observational animal impressions) are set up and paid off in much the same way throughout.

On this night in Auckland though, he seems a little distracted. This could be down to the pre-show heckler wanting the show that’s already a good twenty minutes late to get a move on, could be the delayed flight earlier in the day, could simply be the strain of mid-tour starting to take its toll. Nonetheless, as the consummate professional entertainer, once he has us in the palm of his hand, he takes us on his merry journey and barely lets up, enthralling his fans with stories and quips that seem to keep most wrapt. 

Strangely, the finale of his show is to get behind the piano and plunk out his rendition of ‘Blueberry Hill’ in honour of his father. We’re asked not to clap along as this will distract his already tenuous grip of the tune and he kind of mangles it as he goes, chastising himself for the mistakes and talking to his deceased Dad as he goes. Are we supposed to laugh at this, feel uncomfortable or sympathise? It’s a difficult moment but he pulls back up from the falling pathos by rousing an audience sing-along that gets some of the fans to their feet for the curtain call. 

Henry’s programme notes for the show are extensive and examine several seminal albums that have woven through the story of his life. He claims, though, that “It’s the hardest show I’ve ever had to do – it’s more like a play than a stand up.” There’s not really much here to raise this beyond Henry’s usual iconic stand up brand here though, despite the nicely timed slideshow and impressive snappy sound design.

That said, I cannot fault Henry on his showmanship and ability to keep an audience immensely amused for a full two hours. The expectations are high for a performer of his calibre to deliver and in this he rarely fails. 

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