Michael Griffiths gives us an hour of unadulterated pleasure, or maybe, considering much of the biographical content of the show, that should be adulterated pleasure. Any hint of the existence of Michael Griffiths isn’t evident until the end of the show, so completely does he assume the persona of the great song-writer himself.

Entering the auditorium in full house lights from one of the audience doors, as if also a member of the audience, Mr Porter struggles lamely (his legs were crushed in a horse-riding accident at the age of forty-six) to the piano stool and warns us in song that, tonight, ‘Anything Goes’.

But nothing else about this captivating show is remotely lame. It’s difficult to describe the show without a few spoilers. He begins by introducing us to his crippled legs, each named as if a damaged, but indispensable, woman. One “a bitch”, the other more accommodating. Porter’s impeccable, if overly affected, manners are initially manifested through his requirement that we, the audience, greet each leg, first Geraldine then Josephine, by name.

The interaction with the audience is frequent and natural, giving us the impression that we are in the very presence of the man himself. Local references are so effective, relevant and seemingly spontaneous that we almost believe we are watching the composer-lyricist’s creative process at work before our very eyes.

Bit-by-bit Cole Porter reveals snippets of his extraordinary life, which are then reflected in some of his most well-known songs. Each song flows naturally from the biographical context and heightens our insights into the reality of the man before us. This is a remarkable achievement, especially in retrospect, when Griffiths reveals his own (Australian and energetic) persona at the end of the show. It’s almost as if a different person is standing before us. 

Having been musical director for three of Porter’s shows in the past (Fifty Million Frenchmen, Anything Goes, Kiss Me Kate), I have personal experience of many of his songs, but was surprised at the number of others that I was familiar with. Towards the end, Griffiths has genuine trouble remembering a line of the lyrics of ‘Night and Day’, arguably his most famous hit-song. Without at all losing his incarnation of his subject, or us our willing suspension of disbelief, Griffiths makes us feel that we are present at one of Cole’s fabulous parties, “the most coveted invitation in town”, and we are relaxed about the engaging informality of his memory lapse.

The hour was over surprisingly quickly and I leave feeling buoyant after seeing two different shows in two different venues in quick succession – a real festival scenario. Rangiora and Lincoln now have an opportunity to witness this superb show as the last two days of the festival play out.  

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