The Last Five Years is the Ustinov Studio’s Christmas show for 2025. I was very excited to see it as a long-time fan of the 2015 film adaptation soundtrack, starring Anna Kendrick and Jeremy Jordan. By Jason Robert Brown, it is the semi-autobiographical story of the relationship between Jamie, a newly successful writer, and Cathy, an aspiring actress, and won the 2002 Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Music and Lyrics. However, the two leads move through the story in opposite directions, with Cathy beginning the story at the end of their relationship and working backwards, and Jamie at the beginning moving chronologically. Given its minimalist set-up and ensemble, it’s essential that both of the two leads are stellar as there’s nowhere to hide – not achieved by Nick Jonas in the recent Broadway revival, but conquered by Jonathan Bailey in a pre-Bridgerton role and by Cynthia Erivo in a one-off 2016 fundraiser to support gun control. (To complete the Wicked triad, Ariana Grande also performed a song from it during a virtual concert during the pandemic.) 

The Ustinov Studio is a compact space which seats a hundred and twenty, and feels comfortingly intimate. There’s a raised square in the middle of the stage, with horizontal rectangles on the back and sides, interrupted at the back with a semi-transparent screen through which the characters can be seen. Set and costume designer Ethan Creek writes in the programme about his intention to create a sense of transience, which he certainly does; it is left to the actors to bring the dreamlike staging back to emotional reality, with Martha Kirby and Guy Woolf starring as Cathy and Jamie. Kirby begins the show, reeling with shellshocked grief at the end of her relationship (‘Still Hurting’); she has a huskier, more soulfully rounded voice than Kendrick which is lovely. Woolf’s Jamie, by contrast, is immediately high energy and expressive, with more chaotic flair than Jordan’s vocals. Jamie absorbs the initial sombreness and pain of the first song by bounding onstage afterwards, fresh with the excitement of meeting Cathy five years ago (‘Shiksa Goddess’), and we’re off. His delirious song as his career takes off and he moves in with her (‘Moving too Fast’) is vigorous and great fun. There is quite a bit of deliberate unsynchopation from Woolf, though I might have noticed this more because Jordan’s version is quite unexperimental; he and Kirby both option up throughout. ‘The Schmuel Song,’ in which Jamie tells Cathy a story he’s written about her, is the first time we see their tender and convincing chemistry, and her unbridled admiration of him pairs well with his excited energy. 

The wedding scene (‘The Next Ten Minutes’) is beautifully touching, with excellent staging touches by Creek and use of the semi-transparent panel that makes it feel pure and transcendent; and most importantly, making us forget momentarily that we know how the marriage works out. Jamie’s subsequent temptation by other women felt more sudden that I expected, but given that the narrative takes place over five years, it is necessarily perhaps more of a series of snapshots; but it would be interesting to see more of this transition. As the show progresses – it’s just under an hour and a half with no interval – Jamie’s mood shifts darker as Cathy blooms and returns to the optimism of the beginning of their relationship. Kirby’s ‘I Can Do Better Than That,’ is beautifully soaring and bittersweet, coming as it does when Jamie is close to ending things. His narrative feels more visceral as things come to a close because of it moving chronologically – perhaps also reflecting Jason Robert Brown’s natural affinity with the role – and it leaves Cathy feeling vulnerable and remote, while Jamie is raw and almost too close for comfort.

It’s impossible to discuss the impact of these emotional and tonal shifts without mentioning the actual music, brilliantly realised by an incredible four-person band of musicians including piano cover Tim Jasper, who fits in seamlessly. Their playing is truly exquisite, and their additional roles as party guests, audition panels and general sounding boards are not overdone; there’s an especially fun moment when they play an ensemble to a dispirited Cathy on the road (‘Summer in Ohio’). The musical itself has held up well, although there are occasional references that reflect its age (I had to look up who Linda Blair was, and Tom Cruise is less of a pin-up twenty years later). But the music is stunning, and it’s thrilling to hear such a pretty soundtrack live – as with West Side Story, the strings especially shine in a way that’s hard to match on a recording, and it’s lovely to notice musical themes returning in different contexts and keys. The more recent Two Strangers Carry A Cake Across New York, in which a cheery Brit and a jaded New Yorker share a romance, certainly shares some of the same creative DNA, being a two-hander and the female lead feeling lost and unappreciated in comparison to the male lead’s lighter self-confidence, leading to conflict and imbalances in their relationship.

I had extremely high expectations for this production, and it really felt transcendent and beautiful. It’s a complex piece, and manages to straddle the line between emotionally charged, painful moments and genuinely catchy, joyous songs – the actors, musicians and creative team have created a festive jewel.