From the tender age of eight, when his aunt took him to see a matinee performance of Salad Days, Sir Cameron Mackintosh knew that he wanted to be a theatre producer. Little could he have imagined that his childhood ambition would be achieved so spectacularly! The first British producer to be inducted into the Broadway Hall of Fame, Sir Cameron has produced some of the world’s most successful musicals, including Cats, Miss Saigon, The Phantom Of The Opera and Les Miserables. He recently took time out of his busy schedule to talk to What’s On about his revival production of Barnum, which stars Brian Conley and visits two Midlands venues in 2015.

What lies behind the decision to bring Barnum back to the stage, Cameron?

I’ve got a very long connection with Barnum which is fairly tenuous. One of the first musicals I did, back in 1973, was called The Card, which was written by Tony Hatch and Jackie Trent. I was discussing having the lead played by Michael Crawford, who ended up doing another show called Billy instead. So I was wracking my brains to think of who I would get to do it. Suddenly I remembered that I’d seen a young Jim Dale do a marvellous show called Scapino at the Young Vic. So I put him in The Card and he was terrific. The show was a reasonable success, and the great American producer David Merrick came and saw it. David had been asked about producing Barnum in the US. He put Jim Dale in the show as Barnum, and this unknown Englishman became the toast of Broadway. The show was wonderful, and because of my connection with Jim, I went to see it and fell in love with it. It’s always been there in the back of my mind - and, of course, there’s a bit of PT?Barnum in me as well. 

So how does this new staging differ from the original?

If you know Barnum at all, you know him of Barnum & Bailey’s Circus - but he didn’t join the circus until he was sixty-five. Before that, he was a great showman. He was also quite an influential politician, in first the Democrat and then the Republican party. In fact, he was one of the first people involved in getting Abraham Lincoln elected. He fought for very many causes - the emancipation of women, the abolition of slavery and all sorts of things, all of which are touched on in the show. It’s essentially about these amazing dreams that Barnum had, and about his very practical wife, Chairy, who made his dreams come true. There’s a real love story about a very extraordinary couple in the middle of this incredible fable about a man who can’t help thinking up these wonderful ideas. Those are the themes that have haunted me over the years. I was idly playing the music one day and thought, it’s funny that we haven’t heard this show for twenty-five years, because it’s such a wonderful, life-affirming score and a really lovely story. What I wanted to do was actually strengthen the love story between Barnum and Chairy, so I did some reworking with American theatre director and producer Mark Bramble, rebuilding the second act of the show. The rebuilding’s worked really well. 

My first memories of watching the show with Jim Dale was of a very unknown Glenn Close playing his wife. I never thought that the role of Chairy was as good in any subsequent shows I saw, because Glenn - being a phenomenal actress - brought something really special to the part. Thereafter, Barnum was always thought of as a one-man show - very entertaining but not much of a story. I think having someone as good as Linzi Hateley playing Chairy, and rebuilding the emotional core of the show, works really well. We’ve put some new numbers into the show for when she dies and Barnum has a nervous breakdown. It’s had this fantastic reception from the audience since it re-opened in Leicester a few weeks ago.

You’ve re-worked Miss Saigon, The Phantom Of The Opera and now Barnum. What are your main considerations when setting out to re-work a very well-known show?

I re-imagined the staging for the new Phantom and Miss Saigon. In the latter, Claude-Michel and Alain wrote a new song for Ellen, but we didn’t really change the structure of the show at all. It was literally that. We looked at the language for the new London production and we tightened it up. It was written twenty-five years ago and we wanted it to have a bit more edge. Basically, both Saigon and Phantom were the same shows that were written twenty-five years ago. With Barnum, I felt it needed a much more radical re-think, to put the love story of the husband and wife more central stage to the telling of Barnum’s tale.

Broadly speaking, Miss Saigon is historical, Phantom is fictional, Barnum is biographical. What draws you to a story? Are there common themes and elements to a story that you choose to bring to the stage?

Most of the shows I’ve done have been based on adaptations of classic material, whether it be Dickens, PL Travers, Hugo or whoever. I don’t normally do biography musicals, and I don’t know whether I would have done it originally. The connection I found in Barnum is that, being a showman myself, I understand how important it is to have a relationship. It’s not all about the work, it’s about how you live your life. That’s the theme that I found in it. I normally produce much more serious musicals, like Oliver! and Miss Saigon. With Mary Poppins, I always thought PL Travers’ book had considerably more depth - there was more to be got out of it than the original film had presented. I loved the film, and I thought that the music written for the film was brilliant, but it was of its time. I had no interest in putting it on the stage. Nor would PL Travers - who never wanted the book to be turned into a film - ever have allowed it. She was ninety-three when she gave me the rights. I said I would never want to do it on stage unless I could bring the best of the music from the film into the stage score and create a new show, which I think is the reason it’s been such a great success. It’s a mixture of the best things from the film and the best things from her book. Out of two existing things we’ve made something new; something which continues to be a great success around the world.

You’ve obviously got an incredible radar for a good story. When you’re pitched an idea, how quickly into the pitch can you say ‘no, this just isn’t going to work’?

To be honest, I’m never interested in having an idea pitched to me. On the whole I only agree to do something if the writers have been inspired to do a draft of it. At the point at which they’ve finished the draft - or maybe half draft - I come to it and go “Oh yes, I see what you’re doing’. For instance, with Miss Saigon, Claude-Michele and Alain didn’t even tell me what the title was. Then, one day, they said they’d done the first act and had a recording of it - all in French, of course. They gave me an outline of the whole show. Then, when they told me it was Miss Saigon, I knew immediately that I wanted to do it. With Cats, Andrew Lloyd Webber had been setting these poems that he loved from his childhood to music. There wasn’t any script at all, it was just the poems. Everyone else he’d played it to had thought it was a terrible idea, but when he played it to me, I knew there was something there. I didn’t know what it was going to be at that point, but there was enough there to say ‘yes I’m going to do it’. With Phantom, yes, I suppose I thought the idea of doing The Phantom Of The Opera was a good one. There were several other versions about, and originally we were just going to produce it. Andrew didn’t want to write it, but the more we got into it, the more we saw there was a terrific show there. Thank God Andrew relented and decided to write the score, which has turned out to be one of his greatest works. 

Usually I would never have thought of doing Les Miserables. It was the fact that I heard the original French concept album and had an idea of the story; that’s what grabbed me by the throat and made me say yes. Again, with Mary Poppins, I was inspired by the film - so much so, in fact, that I’d been trying to get the rights for thirty years. I just felt that there was something in the writing that made me want to try and get it. So it’s generally the characters and the story that make me want to do a show.

And is there a story that got away?

I did try and pursue Dr Zhivago for quite a long time but the rights were never available. Someone’s had them for many years and keeps having a go at it, but I believe it may end up on Broadway next year. That’s a show that I seriously did look at. I love the David Lean film and it’s a fascinating book, but I think it would be a tricky one to do.

Are audience expectations more of a challenge to meet these days?

I don’t think so. If you look at the biggest hits in London at the moment on the musical front, they’ve come from left field. The Book Of Mormon - nobody could know what that show was until it opened in America, and it’s had an equal success in London at the Prince of Wales. It’s an original musical, a pastiche of many things and is wickedly funny, but it’s taken audiences by surprise. I found with Les Mis and Miss Saigon, by re-tooling them, a whole new audience who’ve never seen them previously are coming to see them. 

It remains to be seen which of the new musicals coming this season will actually last. Certainly the Royal Shakespeare Company’s Matilda has been a completely unexpected success. So you really never know. There are unlikely shows that succeed. Look at Wicked. When it opened in New York it got terrible reviews. It actually built its audience over the first six months and became a huge hit; it wasn’t an overnight success. There was no expectation before the show opened - and that’s something which has happened throughout history. Two of the most famous shows on both sides of the Atlantic - Oklahoma in the States in the 1940s and Oliver! over here - both opened with no advance at all. Legend has it that they couldn’t even fill the theatre with free seats on the opening nights of either show, but they’ve both gone on to become a phenomena. It’s really weird how it goes. Not all shows open like Cats and Phantom or Les Miserables, becoming a huge success immediately. 

Is it the case that the bigger the name, the greater the expectation? Andrew Lloyd Webber, for example, has produced all these fantastic shows, so do audiences feel that every subsequent production of his should be of the highest standard?

If Andrew or, to a lesser extent, I myself do a new show, because we’ve been at it a long time, we might be one of the few names that the general public have heard of. That may get the show a bit of attention, but the public won’t buy in advance. That’s what Andrew discovered with his last show - in the end it only ran for a short amount of time. It’s the show that matters. The most that a famous name can do is generate publicity. A famous name doesn’t get you people - unless you’re a bonafide star, in which case they’re not coming because of the writer or the producer but because of the star.

So where does musical theatre go from here, Cameron? How would a brand new show in, say, thirty years’ time differ from what’s being presented today?

God knows! I’ve no idea. I never know what’s going to be a hit anyway. I treat every new show I do as if it’s the first one. Yes, I know there are certain things which would be stupid mistakes to make, but I think there are no rules about what makes a success. I’ve always followed the dictum that you do it for yourself, you do it as well as you can, and hopefully other people will like it. I have to fall in love with the material. The shows which have been successful have been successful because the authors believed in them. The reason that Matilda’s been a success is purely because of the brilliance of Tim Minchin and Dennis Kelly’s writing, and the show’s been very well done. That said, I do think it’s unlikely the show would’ve done quite so well if it had opened cold in the West End. The fact that it came out of the RSC, as happened with Les Miserable thirty years ago, helped build an audience-awareness and appreciation for it.

Have shows like Matilda filled a gap for younger audiences?

Yes. It’s the younger market which keeps Phantom, Les Miserables and, particularly, Miss Saigon going. What I’ve seen is a shift over the last fifteen years. The main demographic is that late teens to people in their thirties make up the main bulk of the audience, whereas it used to be thirty-fives to fifties. I think the audience has got hugely younger for those shows that have staying power. Younger people have discovered the excitement and the thrill of musical theatre. This is one of the reasons why theatre is thriving. Not every show, but the good shows are thriving because the audiences are much younger, they’re contemporary and they like it. 

Does theatre’s popularity with younger audiences re-affirm people’s perception of theatre becoming more accessible?

Absolutely. It’s now totally accessible. I think its popularity is partly to do with the fact that people have to stare at a screen with their jobs all day. Therefore, when they have leisure time, they want to do something that’s live, whether it’s a pop concert, the theatre or sport. Nowadays the live event is worth more than the recorded event. As we know with DVDs and CDs, people will flock to the concert much more than buy something to have at home now. And via all these TV programmes searching for new talent, people see that not only is theatre enjoyable, it can also be a very good profession to go into. The contribution of the entertainment industry is huge and right up the scale. It’s a real place where you can get a job; if you’ve got a talent and get a break, you can make it. There aren’t that many jobs in the world where you can do that, no matter where you come from.

What’s the greatest ever single piece of advice that you’ve been given, and is it the same advice that you’d pass on to an inspiring Cameron Mackintosh in 2014?

Do something because you believe in it and not necessarily because you think it will make money. Do it passionately, do it as well as you can, and then hopefully the public will come to share your taste.

You’re the richest producer in the history of musical theatre. How do you remain grounded?

To be honest, as I spent so many years wondering if I could afford the petrol to go from one theatre to another, I’m constantly amazed that I can afford to do whatever I want. My sense of value is still there and I don’t spend all my time in the theatre. When I started out, I wanted to make a living and I wanted to be successful, like anyone does in any business, but I never thought of making lots of money. So the fact that I’ve ended up making more money than I could ever have imagined is something quite surreal. I’m only occasionally reminded of it. I live in nice houses and I can more or less go wherever I want and do what I want, but I love living in the country. I love showbusiness, but I don’t want it to take over my life. I’m as interested in building houses as putting on shows. I’m not caught up in the web of showbusiness glamour; in fact, I rarely ever do it. I throw a good party for opening night but I’m not interested in being in OK magazine and all of that showbusiness stuff. I think that’s helped me. Plus, I’ve got some very good people helping me - they do most of the work that keeps my empire around the world ticking. They may have to choose their moment, but they know me well enough to tell me not to be an ass. I like to think I don’t give them too much of an opportunity to do so, but we can all get carried away at times and need people to say to us “Stop it! That’s not right”. But the trappings have never interested me; I’d much rather be spending time at home. I’m quite reclusive - and interestingly enough, so was PT?Barnum, the greatest showman of all time. He would only go and do the hoopla when it was for his own show. Otherwise he built himself nice houses and went home and had a kitchen supper. So I think we share a few more things in common.

What’s your favourite way to wind down?

To be honest, the luxury is having the time to myself and being with my friends. I’m equally happy wandering the hills in Scotland or the lovely countryside in Somerset. I switch off very easily and I’ve never had a problem relaxing and swimming and lying on the beach reading a tawdry book. I remember that even when I was twenty and didn’t have two pennies to rub together, I would never not go on holiday. I’ve always thought that that was as important as doing the work. That’s what’s kept me sane. I still go shopping. I enjoy doing that and seeing the prices of things. Yes, I can afford a private jet and from time to time I’ll take it - mainly to save time - but when I don’t need to, I get on the shuttle or go Easy Jet or whatever, because there’s no reason not to. Also, I find there’s part of me that feels it’s worth knowing what things cost; to know what the price of a theatre ticket means to the people who’ve given me this fortunate lifestyle. I think it’s very important, and that’s why I’m fanatical that a show - wherever it’s going - is not only as good as possible but also hopefully better than what audiences have heard.  

And that people think it’s money well spent?

Exactly! And that’s why I’m thrilled with all the reaction to Brian and Linzi in Barnum. We’ve received lovely letters from people who’ve said they loved it with Michael Crawford but that they also love the differences, and that this production is just as good but in a different way. It is different to the original production and that’s what I wanted it to be. 

So what makes Brian Conley a good choice to play Barnum?

There’s a line towards the end of the play about my kind of showbusiness being dead. In a way, that means a throwback to an old-fashioned showman - and that’s Brian. He’s a showman - and yet he’s also a very good actor. He doesn’t often get the chance to show that - although he was a very good Fagin for me two years ago when he toured England in Oliver!. Interestingly enough, he chases me for the parts that he feels he can do, and says “Look, I’d like to have a crack at that”. Brian takes a tremendous pride in his work. There are so many elements in this show - being able to act it and, obviously, technically sing it - but Brian also knows how to break that fourth wall with an audience. Midlands audiences will have seen that year after year in Birmingham, where he’s been one of the great pantomime stars. There’s an element of that in Barnum too - in the way the show is constructed, with this man introducing us to all the people who made his life story. I think that’s why he’s so terrific. He’s also very moving when he has his breakdown and loses his wife. I think it’s probably the best part Brian’s had since Jolson, who was another showman. There’s something about those roles that he has a fairly unique handle on, because of who he is and how his professional life has come about.

Also, Linzi - who I’ve known since she was sixteen - has such strength and such humour and is a real rock on that stage. You completely understand how Barnum needed her, and why, when she went, it was such a terrible loss - a loss which was only made up by having another, different kind of partner in Bailey for the last great adventure of his life.

Back to you. Where does being inducted into Broadway’s Hall Of Fame rank in terms of career highs?

As a little boy of eight who wanted to become a producer, having a show in London was on my list of dreams - but this never was. I believe I’m the only English producer who’s been given that accolade, so I was very, very touched to have that. I’ve had, and continue to have, a wonderful career in America, which has been a very important part of my life. 

And if you could change one rule in theatreland, what would it be?

I would probably want to rehearse the actors and so rehearsals never stop, I suppose.

If you could choose one single scene from one of your shows to watch in your final moments on earth, which scene would you choose and why?

I think it would probably have to be the finale of Les Miserables, because it’s such a wonderfully uplifting piece of music. It’s about coming together, the past and the future. It’s about the people in your lives being forever young once you go beyond the barricade. As a piece of music, it’s very embracing. 

And what will be your lasting legacy?

Because of my very fortunate career, I’ve worked on - or become the father figure of - at least half a dozen of the greatest musicals ever written. They’re all classics and are going to live on with new audiences long after I’m forgotten. Plus, I know that with the theatres I’ve bought and the work that’s been done to them, they’re going to last another hundred years. What better legacy could I leave?

We doubt you’ll be forgotten, Cameron...

Nobody remembers who produced Showboat, nobody remembers who produced Oklahoma, and there’s no reason to. It’s the authors who should be remembered. Sure, authors need producers, but none of us have a job unless authors come up with something that’s exciting and inspirational. In the end it’s the authors who’re the continuing life blood. A few people may know Burbidge’s name but, on the whole, everybody knows Shakespeare, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve obviously been blessed to be good at musicals and I enjoy every aspect of it. Probably that’s the reason I’ve had more successes than anybody else has, but my greatest gift is being able to spot the writers who have a unique talent, and being able to work with them. My second greatest gift is knowing what I’m not good at. That’s something that often gets overlooked in life. It’s really good to know what you’re not good at, and then to find the person who can do that thing instead of you.

So what is it that you’re not good at?

Even though I interfere with direction and things like that, I could never be a director. I can often come up with some smart direction once something exists. I’m very good in every department of going ‘No, you need to do this, not that, and what about that?’, and I can talk to actors about interpretation - but only once it exists. I could never put it up fresh; I don’t have that gift. That’s why I turned down directing. A number of producers, like Hal Prince, have become directors, and very successful directors -  but I know I wouldn’t be one of them.  

Is there anything else at which you’d like to have a go?

No, I’ve got the best job in the world. I’m very happy that that eight-year-old boy is still doing what he dreamed of doing. The only question in my life is whether I’ve grown up enough...