(seen at the afternoon performance on 28th May 2022)
Sometimes the monkey feels like the little boy watching the parade in the musical “Hans Christian Anderson.” This is one of those times. While all around admired the fine outfit, it wanted so badly to shout out, “look at the King, look at the King, look at the King, the King! the King!... the King is in the altogether”...
As the Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre proved so magnificently last year, classic Rogers and Hammerstein musicals can be re-invented for new generations with imagination and daring. The scores are not only strong enough to take it, but with the right polish will gleam anew in unexpected ways.
Daniel Fish had a massive hit on and off-Broadway with this re-imagining of their first, epoch-defining success. The monkey cannot for the life of it think why, beyond a segment of iconoclasts dictating the taste of an entire city.
Tough, but unyielding in decency, the sometimes bleak and precarious existence of 1906 prairie folk is made not just liveable but flavoursome by the community spirit and humour which exists among them. The beauty of the Rogers and Hammerstein adaptation of Lynn Rigg’s play is in distilling this essence in music, lyric and storytelling.
This mess strips away all that is sweet, innocent and wholesome about the show, the lives of the protagonists and the celebration of the people who fed and indeed are the founding communities of the modern USA. Had Fish replaced this point with a new and striking idea, that would be cause for wonderment, unearthing a fresh idea. Sadly, he does not.
What we get is glacially slow in places. The humorous by-play which zings between the characters and bounces the show along is gone, replaced by a modern introspection which is alien to their lives and very natures, which are here heart-breakingly shredded.
Perhaps the sequences of blackout which allow us to reflect on the wickedness of Fry’s personality are a relatively creative idea. Far more often, though, such moments of emotional depth are over-stated and add as little as projections used to accompany them.
Somewhat saving the show is the fact that the cast are universally wonderful. Anoushka Lucas as Laurey Williams has a voice which enchants, a warmth which radiates and her intimate duet with Arthur Darvill as Curly McLain is a highlight. Darvill himself uses his guitar skills to good effect, but so often that the novelty wears thin – particularly as without amplification half the words are lost as he turns to face a different direction.
Marisha Wallace’s powerful voice as Ado Annie is ill-served by an horrific “Can’t Say No” which is (of course, Mr Fish) modernised to remove the self-deprecation / celebration in favour of a weird meaningless cabaret approach. The young woman remains a cypher for the rest of the show as we cannot understand her simple “joie de vivre” as a purity of soul which allows her to tie men in knots yet protects her always.
James Davies as Will Parker and Stavros Demetraki as Ali Hakim tussle over her, the latter given the best of the dramatic as Parker is reduced to a little swagger with more sitting than a rancher may be expected to do – other than on a horse.
Jud Fry (Patrick Vaill) is a true brooding danger, a psychopath and proud off it, achieving one of the few real chills of the production.
By contrast, Liza Sadovy’s Aunt Eller is mostly sidelined in favour of a focus on the young; a little odd in such an achingly “inclusive” approach. What we see is the usual Sadovy flair, but precious little to rival the Maureen Lipman performance – simply because Sadovy isn’t allowed the same scope.
The production reaches its nadir in the “Dream Ballet” opening of act two. To a heavy rock beat a young dancer wearing a white “Dream Baby” T-Shirt struts about for several minutes. John Heginbotham’s choreography is inventive but incongruous. Worse, it destroys an important reflective moment and creates a curiously cold atmosphere for the second half.
It is hugely noticeable later on how the longer dialogue scenes - left untouched - work brilliantly. The final joyful sequence is alas ruined by a smart but horrible special effect, and an after-image both unnecessary and brattish as a toddler’s tantrum.
Laura Jellineck and Grace Laubacher’s set design is straight out of “The Producers” – it is “theatre in the square – nobody gets a good seat.” The monkey couldn’t see or appreciate half the show, nor could anybody much outside a few seats in the centre of the auditorium or in the balcony above.
Combined with having the actors mostly static or slouching around for a few inches, the space felt both crowded yet unanimated and did little to draw us into their lives.
On the plus side, Scott Zielinski’s lighting design is award-worthy, in several sequences the monkey couldn’t see even how they were being achieved, but was deeply impressed by the effect as dreams, daylight and darkness swirled and leant meaning to an otherwise sterile event.
Some have dubbed this show “Wokelahoma”. It isn’t. It is simply a director’s vision which is more of a nightmare. A show which should be joyful and uplifting simply stamps on the American heart without explanation. Disrespectful, inexplicable and truly not OK.
2 stars.