A Conversation with Anna-Jane Casey
on Follies, Sunday in the Park with George, and Family Guy
It was a real treat to sit down with Anna-Jane Casey ahead of her debut as Sally in Northern Ireland Opera’s upcoming production of Follies (13-20 September). We spoke about that production, as well as her time as Dot in Sunday in the Park with George, the importance of artistic mentorship, and her appearance in Seth MacFarlane’s Family Guy. Our conversation begins below:
It’s so great to be talking to you ahead of this production of Follies at Northern Ireland Opera. Is Sally a role you’ve had your eye on for some time?
When I first came to London, there was a production of Follies on at the Shaftesbury Theatre. I was doing Cats, so this is the late eighties. I remember the amazing poster: a silhouette of a lady with a headdress on. And I remember thinking, I wonder what that show is. I could tell it was about showgirls, but I had no idea beyond that.
My absolute personal favorite human being is Imelda Staunton. I think the woman can do no wrong, so knowing that she’s played Sally gives me thrills and tingles—but it’s also terrifying, because she’s amazing. I am very much looking forward to finding my Sally, but I’ve never seen the show. I know that Sally is a showgirl. She’s of a certain age, and she’s still wistful for the past. But it’s a good thing that I’ve never seen the show, because I don’t have a fixed impression of what I want her to be.
I’m going to be completely honest with you. As a woman who’s made most of her career in musical theatre, unless I’ve already done a show, or I’ve seen it, I know almost nothing about it.
That’s fascinating, because when I look at your career, there’s so much musical theatre history you could plot just with the shows you’ve been in. But in each case, you’re coming fresh to these pieces. Do you enjoy that freshness of approaching each show like a new work?
Oh, totally. I absolutely do. I love what I do, but I don’t go home and listen to musical theatre soundtracks. I listen to heavy-ass rap in my kitchen. I always joke and say I’m going to get T-shirts made that say “What I do is not who I am.” I love my work, and there’s nothing better than standing on stage and singing a fantastic song. But I go home and listen to Stevie Wonder, and rap, and soul.
Have you ever sung “Losing My Mind” in a concert setting?
Weirdly enough, I haven’t. In terms of Sondheim that I do sing within my own cabarets, I sing “Not While I’m Around,” but I sing the Jamie Cullum jazz version. Very different. And it’s a beautiful version. But “Losing My Mind” I’ve never sung. I know the Liza and Pet Shop Boys version very well, though. But I’m really looking forward to singing that.
Is there something especially appealing about doing Follies in an opera house?
Definitely. My very dear friend Rebecca Caine—I call her Dame Rebecca Caine, because she should have been knighted—she’s our original Cosette, and she’s a wonderful woman. She worked a lot after doing Les Mis and Phantom and all those things in the eighties and nineties, and she graduated towards more opera stuff. We’re very good mates. She lives not far from me out in Kent, and she was saying to me, “You’ve never worked for an opera company?” I was like, “No.” She said, “You will be treated so differently.” I’m really excited because of the kudos that a space like that carries, the weight that it carries. It has real gravitas to it.
And the other cast members in this production are incredible. To stand beside Lesley Garrett, I’m going to lose my marbles. I’m going to be her biggest fan. But the level of skill and talent that is going to be involved on that stage… We’re all going to have to bring our A-game, which is so exciting. And Cameron [Menzies]’s productions through Northern Ireland Opera have been so lauded. It’ll be brilliant.
Casting for the younger cast members—the “ghosts” or former selves—was announced recently. It must feel special to be part of a company where some colleagues have such a wealth of experience, and others are just starting out on that journey.
Yeah. I do a lot of teaching, including at the brilliant Performers College in Essex. There is nothing better than working with younger folk. I’m in my fifties now, but to work with 20 to 30-year-olds who are just starting—there’s nothing better. And of course, they’re teaching me as much as I’m teaching them. Theatre is a collaborative art, and it’s such a wonderful thing to work with people that span all ages. I’m very excited about that.
I’m also probably going to be stealing all the clothing of the younger person who’s playing me, because I want to be dead fashionable. I’ll be nicking their T-shirts.
Sondheim’s work has intersected with your life in a pretty amazing way: you met your husband on West Side Story. When you look back at a show like that now, is it possible to separate the work from the experience and the relationships that came from it?
That is a brilliant question. Do you know what’s wonderful? You can. Of course, I have a very long history with it. When I was a kid, I used to do dance festivals. I did loads and loads of dance festivals from the age of 10 to 16, until I came to London. My song and dance was “America” from West Side Story. I used to sing that song from the age of 13, 14, 15—awful, bronzed, with awful hair tied back. I looked like a right wally. So that song has been in my life for a long, long time.
I think I was 13 when I did Baby June, too—probably not even realizing that it was Styne and Sondheim. I was just going, “This music’s great, and this show is great, and the film’s lovely,” but not delving more into it.
So can I separate it? Yes, I can, because I listen to the new soundtrack—with Rachel Zegler, and my favorite, Mike Faist—and I just think how phenomenal it is. I do a lot of concerts, and the orchestra will often play the the mambo. On their own, those pieces are just remarkable.
And the same is true with Sunday in the Park with George. I can remember looking out at the audience one night, watching Andrew Marr. You know, the ex-BBC political editor? He was there, and he was weeping. It was when I was singing “Move On.” And that is the beauty of Sondheim. So many people were openly weeping during Sunday. I don’t think you can put your finger on it with Sondheim. It’s a feeling you get in your chest. You feel that thing, and that’s the beauty of it—and that’s why I can separate my own experience from the work itself.
For people who might not know, the Sunday production you’re talking about is the now quite iconic production at the Menier Chocolate Factory, in which you played Dot. I’d love to know about any other memories you have from that time.
It was beautiful to watch it all be put together. It was so hard to learn. But that’s the great thing about any form of expressive, creative art: whether you’re an artist or whether you’re a dancer, or whether you’re a writer, it’s the difficulty that makes you better. It’s the difficulty that makes it worthwhile. And at the Chocolate Factory, the audience was on top of us. They were all over us. It was great.
Did Sondheim come to the Menier production? Do you have any memories of him as a person?
Weirdly enough, the show was already open, and a rehearsal was called. It was nothing out of the ordinary that we’d have a rehearsal, but the timing was a bit strange. I thought, “We’re doing all right, aren’t we?”
We were all on stage, doing “Color and Light.” It’s a tiny theatre, as you know, and at the very back there was somebody who came in and sat down. A very good mate of mine was standing next to me, and she just went, “Sondheim.” I said, “You what?” She said, “It’s him.” He was a man of very few words. He watched the rehearsal. He watched us do “Sunday.” At the end he stood up and he came down. He said, “You all sound great,” and that was it.
He came to see the show that night. Somewhere in this madhouse of mine, there is a picture of me with Stephen Sondheim, and he’s got his arm around me. But I don’t think I fully realized the majesty of the situation at the time. I was pregnant as well. I was quietly pregnant, which is why I never went on to then do the show in the West End, and why the lovely Jenna Russell took over. She’s brilliant.
I think you’re the only person I’ve ever spoken to that has appeared in Family Guy. I know you worked with Seth MacFarlane on those brilliant John Wilson Proms. Did you keep in touch after those concerts?
I’m a big Family Guy fan. I go home, I have a cup of tea, and I watch the telly. I listen to rap and watch Family Guy. I remember lovely John Wilson saying to me, “There’s going to be this singer coming. He’s called Seth MacFarlane.” And I was like, “I know who that is!”
Seth is the quietest, most unassuming man. And of course he’s an animator at heart, so that makes sense. But as we know, he’s got the most phenomenal voice. There were times when we’d sing together in various concerts and Proms, and he’d be stood next to me, and I’d think, “It’s Brian the dog!”
Of all the things I’ve done, and I’ve done some lovely things in my life, so many people will go, “What was it like on Family Guy?” It’s iconic. I literally said four lines, and I’m thrilled.
Finally, you’re also playing Mrs. Lovett soon—and that production of Sweeney Todd, like Follies, will really foreground younger talent alongside more experienced performers. Do you have any words of wisdom for actors just starting out?
Mentorship is something I think is really important. I wish I’d had somebody when I was 16, 17, 18, in my first couple of shows, to be that person for me. Even if we’d just had a designated rehearsal where the older members of the cast, people who were over 40, would step up and say, “This is what we’re going to do,” it would have been so inspirational.
I’ve done a lot of masterclasses at various colleges in Great Britain and over in Ireland, and it’s so lovely to be able to give kids encouragement. It’s scary to stand up and expose yourself as an artist. To expose your soul, to sing and to dance and to act and to step in front of a crowd, is terrifying.
And I want to impress on any young person, whether that’s the younger cast of Follies or the Sweeney Todd people, we’re all pooping our pants. Everyone is terrified. Don’t ever think that because I’m standing here at the front that I know what I’m doing. I’ve just been on the planet longer, and I’m faking it better.
I’m going to name-drop now. I did a show with Sir Ian McKellen a couple of Christmases ago. The man is worth millions. He’s been knighted by the Queen. There was one night that he stood and held my hands in the wings. He was 81 years old at the time. He said, “I’m terrified, AJ. I don’t want to go on. I’m terrified.” And I had to hold him. I’m holding onto this giant of a man going, “You’re Ian McKellen! They’ve come to see you. Now get out there.”
I always tell that story to my young students, because we always think that people have so much more charisma and bravado about it, and we don’t. And that’s the beautiful thing about doing a collaborative theatrical art. You can teach these younger ones, “I’m as scared as you are, but I will hold your hand, and we will do this together. And you will feel so empowered at the end of it.” What I do is not who I am, but I love my work so much. I really do.
Follies runs at Northern Ireland Opera from 13-20 September 2025. Click here for more information, and to buy tickets.