A riotous celebration of music, friendship and the great British pub
There are few theatrical experiences that begin before the curtain has even risen. The Choir of Man is one of them.
At Storyhouse, Chester, the familiar rituals of going to the theatre are swiftly replaced by something altogether more convivial. The stage becomes The Jungle, a traditional pub where the beer is flowing, the music is ready to begin, and the audience are invited to become part of the evening rather than simply observe it. Brimming with hits from artists such as Queen, Luther Vandross, Paul Simon, Adele, Guns & Roses and Katy Perry to name but a few, this is a pub like no other!
Created by Nic Doodson and Andrew Kay, The Choir of Man has become something of a theatrical phenomenon, and it is easy to understand why. This is not a conventional musical with a carefully constructed plot driving the evening forward. Instead, it is a celebration of the things that bring people together: music, friendship, laughter, storytelling and the simple pleasure of spending time with other people.
And, of course, there is beer.
Whilst the nine-strong cast are an impressively versatile bunch. Singers, musicians, dancers and comedians, they move effortlessly between disciplines, often picking up an instrument one moment and launching into a complex vocal arrangement or piece of choreography the next. The musicianship is particularly impressive, but it is the collective sound of the ensemble that provides the show’s greatest musical strength.
There is a wonderfully unpretentious quality to the music. Familiar songs are reworked into arrangements that allow the performers’ individual personalities to shine, before the ensemble comes together and produces the kind of rich, tightly blended harmonies that remind you just how powerful the human voice can be.
The quieter moments are arguably just as effective as the big numbers. Beneath all the exuberance is a show interested in what happens when people put aside the bravado and actually talk to one another. The pub becomes more than a drinking establishment; it becomes a place of refuge, friendship and belonging.
That gives The Choir of Man considerably more substance than its rowdy exterior might initially suggest.
The production’s celebration of male friendship is particularly welcome. These are men who sing, dance, joke and occasionally reveal vulnerability. The show understands that camaraderie doesn’t have to mean emotional restraint, and that there is strength in admitting when life isn’t quite as straightforward as the banter might suggest.
The result is a production that can switch tone surprisingly quickly. One minute the audience are laughing along with the performers; the next, a more reflective passage lands with genuine emotional weight. It never becomes overly earnest, however. The humour and sheer exuberance keep the evening moving.
Audience participation is central to the experience, and this is where The Choir of Man either wins you over completely or asks you to step outside your theatrical comfort zone. The fourth wall is thoroughly dismantled, with performers engaging directly with the audience and selected members being brought into the action.
For anyone who prefers their theatre strictly from the safety of their seat, this may sound alarming. For everyone else, it is part of the fun.
There is also an infectious sense that the cast genuinely enjoy performing together. That chemistry matters. The show works best when it feels less like nine performers delivering a perfectly polished product and more like a group of friends who have invited an entire theatre full of strangers into their local.
The choreography adds another dimension, with energetic ensemble sequences sitting comfortably alongside individual showcases. Nothing feels particularly precious. The production knows exactly what it is: a theatrical knees-up with considerably more technical skill behind it than the premise might suggest.
And that is perhaps the greatest achievement of The Choir of Man. It could so easily have become little more than a collection of popular songs, handsome performers and audience participation. Instead, there is a genuine warmth running underneath it all.
In a time when loneliness and social isolation are increasingly familiar experiences, the show’s message about connection feels especially pertinent. The local pub is presented as a place where people can meet, talk, laugh and simply exist alongside one another. Whether you are a regular pub-goer or someone who would rather drink coffee, the underlying sentiment is universal.
Sometimes people just need somewhere to belong.
The Choir of Man may not offer a traditional narrative, but it doesn’t need one. Its story is found in the people on stage and, increasingly, in the audience around them. It is about the shared experience of music and the strange, wonderful alchemy that occurs when a roomful of strangers start singing together.
By the final moments, the distinction between performer and audience has become almost irrelevant. What remains is a room full of people having a very good time. And isn’t that what a great night at the theatre should sometimes be?
VERDICT: A hugely entertaining, brilliantly performed and surprisingly heartfelt night out. The Choir of Man raises a glass to friendship, community and the enduring magic of getting together.
Reviewer: Kevin Eccleston
Reviewed: 18th August 2026
North West End UK Rating: