Dear Evan Hansen in London: Hot Damn I Love this Showby Randi / December 12, 2019Man alive, if you didn’t hate England after last week’s election, you definitely will after seeing Translations, the classic play by Brian Friel that is basically the stage version of the quote “You be careful out among them English.” (The actual quote is ‘the English’ but most people remember it as ‘them English’ because it’s so much better.) Translations tells of the folk who run and attend a hedge school in the Irish community of Baile Beag in 1833. They seem to be having a grand old time learning and living their lives, until the English military comes in supposedly to map their area and record the right translations of the farm-county names. But you can’t trust the English, as they come to know, and as the ‘translations’ become ‘renaming’ their locales, and as ‘renaming’ becomes, well, executing English military control. With well realized characters and a captivating style and story, Translations is a fantastic show and this revival could not be better.
So, your first question first: a hedge school (according to our friend wikipedia because I never heard the term before) was a small informal (and I guess illegal?) school that secretly educated kids from ‘non-conforming faiths’ (catholic and presby/anything but Anglican). They generally provided rudimentary primary school education for children – historians estimate for up to 400,000 students by the 1820s. Sometimes, they provided a higher level of education, and our hedge school run by Manus (Seamus O’Hara) and Hugh (Ciaran Hinds, heyyyy) seemed a mix of both: their students shout out the Greek or Latin etymologies of words used in regular conversation, they quote the Aeneid and the Odyssey, they talk of Greek mythology like they are friends with the gods (and at least our loony old man student Jimmy Jack (Dermot Crowley) believed he was), but then they also work on their times tables. So a general school of all things, and eventually, because of the damn English, a school of hard knocks?
When the English arrive with their mapmaking plan, their translator for the local language is Owen (Fra Fee, one of the best names), Hugh’s son and Manus’s brother, back after years establishing himself in the big cities. Owen doesn’t seem to mind erasing interesting old Irish names, with histories that locals like to share with each other so someone remembers, for English-friendly boring shit like White Plains and River Cross or whatever bullshit they came up with to replace like Billarendy Kragger. While he seems to be missing any respect for where he came from in his desire to change/better himself and his country, his partner in mapcrime, Lieutenant Yolland (Jack Bardoe), has a well-meaning but overly romanticized notion of ‘loving’ Ireland and the language, and the two surprising positions make for interesting subtle conflict. I also loved the subtle showing of the students feeling inferior and uneducated in front of the Englishmen since they couldn’t speak English, despite their ability to talk about the Greek gods and Latin poets and word origins like its nothing and despite the Englishmen’s inability to even recognize a Latin phrase. How did this assumption that English people are smarter begin? That’s some white nonsense.
Making for not so subtle conflict is the romance between the Lootellan and Maire, my hair twin, who always seemed destined to marry Manus but things a-change when the English come a-courting. Unforch for all, the Lootellan goes missing, and his military buddies, like all military buddies, are not happy and so they threaten increasing amounts of action/crime/murder until he is found, the gd fascists. The rapid development of drama and terror in act two is alarming, especially since it so worryingly relates to those in power today. The final image is so harrowing, earning a rare ‘faaaaak’ from me in the blackout before curtain call.
But aside from the distress of connecting the action to our crumbling society, Translations is terrific theatre. All the acting was strong, and some of my favorites I didn’t even mention yet (like the mute-but-working-on-it Sarah, played by Liadan Dunlea). With perfect timing, there was so much unexpected humor, and laugh-out-loud moments with the back-and-forth translations. The world they created was full, absorbing, and epic-feeling right off the bat, and it felt important, especially in trying to understand English history. I feel like this is the show for Irish people who felt overlooked by The Ferryman.
INFORMATION
Unfortunately, this ends its run tomorrow, December 18. but there are tickets available for tonight and tomorrow night so hop to it.
This is playing in the Olivier theatre inside the National Theatre (there are a few theatres in there).
DO NOT bring bags bigger than like a sheet of paper? About? Or they give you shit and might make you check it. Luckily I remembered and brought a little bag.
Act one is one hour and 20 minutes. Act two is under an hour and the 7:30pm curtain ended at 10:05pm.
There are toilets on the mezzanine level between the stalls doors level and the circle doors level, and these are always crowded because the people going up to the circle don’t realize that there are more toilets once you enter the circle doors and it’s awesomeeee. If you know. which I do. I also think the circle is better for this theatre because it’s a GD BARN (enormous) and you get a better view. Also if you sit in the front row of the circle your view begins at the tip of the stage, which is incredible for my blood pressure because it means you can’t see anyone in the stalls using their phones, the English bastards.
Also at one end of the circle bar now there’s a water machine for filling your bottles or cups! Whee! The line for that at the interval was longer than the bar line which like good for the world but bad for me.
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Young Marx at London’s Bridge Theatre: Who Knew Communism Was So Fun?
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about “Young Marx” at the Bridge Theatre in London, running until December 31 so hurry up!
Apparently, communism is a (mostly) joyous romp that provides a ton of comedic fodder. I didn’t know this, but now that a play about it made me laugh for two hours, I might be sold! “Young Marx” at London’s brand new Bridge Theatre, under the south bank side of Tower Bridge, impresses by being both dramatically solid and comedically hysterical. I would not be surprised if the runner-up for the title was a Jeb! The Musical-inspired “Communism!” I realize that nothing about this is related to Borat, but I can’t help hearing him say “Great success!” in reply to that equally valid title.
Apparently, communism is a (mostly) joyous romp that provides a ton of comedic fodder. I didn’t know this, but now that a play about it made me laugh for two hours, I might be sold! “Young Marx” at London’s brand new Bridge Theatre, under the south bank side of Tower Bridge, impresses by being both dramatically solid and comedically hysterical. I would not be surprised if the runner-up for the title was a Jeb! The Musical-inspired “Communism!” I realize that nothing about this is related to Borat, but I can’t help hearing him say “Great success!” in reply to that equally valid title.
“Young Marx” tells the story of Karl Marx, famous anti-capitalism pro-socialism philosopher and writer &c., during his time living in London. It sounds pretty dull, at least to me, not really knowing anything other than the widely known basics about Marx. But you don’t have to know anything to enjoy this, and it is so damn enjoyable. Sure there are tons of little jokes that, if you are more familiar with his work (or with the German language) you might give a little (silent!) nod of recognition and appreciation, but even the most uninformed simpleton (me) off the street would be able to not only keep up the pace but also be fully invested in the show.
The clever play comes from writers Richard Bean and Clive Coleman, who I would take a chance on assuming knocked a couple back while writing this, but then again they are British, so that’s not really an assumption at all. But it really seems like they had fun with this, which lets the audience have fun too. And they’re no strangers to comedy. Richard Bean wrote one of the funniest plays I’ve ever seen – “One Man Two Guvnors” – which put James Corden on the map for Americans (should we thank him or….), like really a spit-take kind of show. Then again, he also wrote “Made in Dagenham” which I virulently despised with every fiber of my being…but I guess that’s kind of funny! You didn’t mean for that to be so terrible, did you! But it was! That’s funny!
As for Clive Coleman, this just in he has the career path I want: he was an English lawyer, then became a legal correspondent on the news (the news!), and then starting writing for sitcoms (TELEVISION!) and comedies and now has this very decent credit to his name in a theatre with amaaazing bathrooms (see below). I MEAN, here’s the path, let’s follow it. “The way is clear! The light is good!” &c.
Honestly, speaking of one, I could see this being a musical. There aren’t many new musical comedies with a classic feel. It could be so funny, although I don’t know how open to having Karl Marx jump into a tap break the snooty London theatergoers would be.
But jump around he does, in all sorts of hilarious twists and hijinx. Karl is played by the great Rory Kinnear, who you would definitely 100% recognize but I would say about 90% of you would be like ‘oh I know him from…what do I know him from?’ He’s one of those faces that you know but he’s not exactly a household name outside of the UK. Anyway, you know him from the three Daniel Craig James Bond films. He’s one of those guys that isn’t Bond or Judi Dench.
Karl’s wife, Jenny von Westphalen, was a member of the Prussian aristocracy. Her family was maaad. She and Karl and their babies and their maid lived in squalor, with bailiffs coming every day to take more of their possessions to put against his debt. The show opens with Karl trying to hock one of his wife’s most prized possessions, a silver Argyll teapot or something (they just refer to it as the Argyll is that a thing) worth more money than he’s probably ever seen (or wants to see! Money evil burn the money burn the witch! I need to reread him I guesss) in order to pay off some of those debts, or maybe to buy food for his family. But the pawnshopper thinks he stole it, this poor man coming in with a piece like that, and calls the cops on him, but of course Rory hops around this way and that and hijinkilly outsmarts and outruns the cops. Jenny, obviously long-suffering but fully committed to fighting for socialism (which means, from the looks of it, simply living in squalor), helps her husband hide from the fuzz repeatedly in a manner it’s obvious has been done hundreds of times – in the fireplace, then in the cupboard, to very amusing result. Jenny is played by Nancy Carroll, who did a very good ‘ugh I hate having to give these bailiffs all my fancy dresses when I could still be rich af in Germany but ughhh I guess it’s for a good cause hooray for communism but also I’m going to flirt with this other rich guy just to make my husband feel bad about not providing for me despite that being impossible to do without buying into the capitalist system’ wife.
My favorite character was Oliver Chris’s (two first names!) portrayal of Friedrich Engels, Marx’s partner in crime and coauthor on a bunch of important works that I’ve definitely read. Engels was depicted as kind of suave and kind of goofy at the same time, indulging Karl’s way of life (poverty) by giving him money (Engels was loaded from his family, it appeared) whenever his children needed to eat or see a doctor and stuff so Marx would never need to get a real job and could just write and drink and smoke. Engels later goes to work at his father’s mill so he could keep sending money to Karl to support him while he worked, which is all kind of telling right, like that he needed an influx of cash from the capitalist pigs to let him keep writing about how terrible capitalism is? (Hypocrite, hypocrite tell you what he do.) The camaraderie between Karl and Engels was clear and fun and portrayed as kind of bros like they were Paul Rudd and Jason Segel in a movie. They played amusing little ditties on the piano while singing variations of what would be their Saturday morning cartoon theme song. Loves it!
“Young Marx” is so interesting because everything pretty much was true. And because it’s true, it wasn’t all happy fun. Like he has an affair with his maid and gets her pregnant, which is you know not the best thing to do to his unsmiling wife, and his young son Fauksy dies of illness, which I did NOT appreciate coming in a mostly comedic show. I wasn’t prepared for that shit, and it kind of didn’t pack the emotional punch they intended it to because it wasn’t an integral part of the plot. Sure it showed how much of an ass Karl could be, when he was late for his own son’s funeral, but it felt out of place. It was true though; Karl’s son Edgar died at 8, so sad. Even sadder, he had 7 children in real life (we only meet two) but only 3 survived to adulthood. Even sadder, they named four of their children Jenny. Communism is not creative, I guess.
Rory does an excellent job of carrying this show, proving why he is such an important actor here in the UK. He gives off a much more youthful vibe than I’m used to with him, I guess because the title calls for it, but it is very surprising and effective. Marx is not really that young in the time depicted but Rory gives off a youthful energy and enthusiasm in Marx that works to show his drive and zeal. He may not have shown the best work ethic or moral standards, but his passion for his beliefs was undeniable.
I was confused a little when the characters close to Marx kept referring to him as ‘Moor’ but apparently that was a true thing, and quite racist: His intimates used the nickname ‘Moor’ because he had a dark complexion and dark curly hair. I learned so much! What really stood out, though, was how clever Nicholas Hytner’s direction and staging were. In these scenes between Karl and his intimates, they would speak fluent English in their regular English accents. But as soon as a bailiff or someone not privy to their personal lives would enter the room, Marx & friends would start speaking broken English in German accents. So when they were shown to be speaking fluent English in the privacy of their home, we were to assume that they were really speaking German. Such genius! It worked so well, and showed so clearly how important it is for direction to elevate plays beyond what’s simply written on the page.
Hytner clearly considered his direction here, and it paid off with impeccable staging and clever decisions that gave the show so much of its dynamic energy. And it’s a good thing he worked so hard, because Hytner is a founder of the Bridge Theatre. And this is the first show ever playing at the Bridge! So much riding on this, and everyone did a fantastic job. I really am surprised at how much I enjoyed it. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and a future production or perhaps a transfer to the West End would be wise to make a few minor edits, but overall it’s an incredibly entertaining two hours about communists, people who don’t exactly scream ‘I’m so much fun’ but are shown to be just that.
INFORMATION
“Young Marx” is playing at the Bridge Theatre until December 31. Now that it’s open, the Bridge is the best physical venue in London. The bathrooms are well designed – there are SO MANY stalls, and so there was no intermission line. And, unlike most West End theatres, the line for the toilets does not go past the sinks, blocking everyone who needs to wash their hands from doing so. God whoever designed all the other theatres is REAL DUMB. AND, unlike ALL other West End theatres, the toilets actually flush. (The plumbing in this country is abysmal why does no one talk about it? Fix it! Anyway, point is, the Bridge is spectacular. There is a great lobby and bar on the main floor, with wifi (which they display the information for, so smart again) AND there are water taps with cups around. I hope this theatre does well and continues to have great shows because I would go just for the water and the toilets.
Fun Home Brings Its Magic to London
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about the musical Fun Home, which is playing at London’s Young Vic until September 1.
I haven’t been this nervous about a show in a long time. Experiencing the original Broadway production of Fun Home in 2015 was one of the most magical theatrical moments I’ve had. Everything about it was absolute perfection, including the first truly great use of the Circle in the Square Theatre’s setup in the round. I worried that the show would lose some of its power and emotional depth without that original cast that I so adored, without the circular theatre, without the extra tinge of greatness that Broadway musicals tend to have. Fortunately, Fun Home is in good hands at London’s Young Vic theatre, such good hands that I was dehydrated for days from all the crying.
I haven’t been this nervous about a show in a long time. Experiencing the original Broadway production of Fun Home in 2015 was one of the most magical theatrical moments I’ve had. Everything about it was absolute perfection, including the first truly great use of the Circle in the Square Theatre’s setup in the round. I worried that the show would lose some of its power and emotional depth without that original cast that I so adored, without the circular theatre, without the extra tinge of greatness that Broadway musicals tend to have. Fortunately, Fun Home is in good hands at London’s Young Vic theatre, such good hands that I was dehydrated for days from all the crying.
Fun Home is the musical adaptation of Alison Bechdel’s 2006 autobiographical graphic (autobiographical maybe?) of the same name, in which she delves into her childhood and her relationship with her father, who she learned was gay soon after she herself came out, and shortly before his suicide. The musical features Alison at three ages – as an adult, a new college student (Medium Alison), and as a 10-year-old kid (Small Alison). Now age 43, Alison, the ‘lesbian cartoonist’, as she calls herself, is sorting through her father’s old belongings and other mementos from her old house and her family’s funeral home in order to form her graphic novel. The adult Alison, played by a solid Kaisa Hammarlund, is prodded into memories as she looks at these belongings, and the moments from the two earlier stages of her life play out on the stage before her as she remembers them and starts to document them in her cartoons.
Hammarlund’s Big Alison carried the structure of the play well, with the memories eliciting reactions from her ranging from angry to embarrassed to remorseful. Her anger came when we saw her father stopping Small Alison (Harriet Turnbull) from expressing herself as she wanted to, or from her father’s quick temper and, sometimes, rage. Her embarrassment often came from truly hilarious moments of seeing her college-aged self try to sound smart but end up completely mortified. The great thing about getting different and unique incarnations of this show now is that different characters will shine the brightest depending on the cast and the interpretation. On Broadway, the discovery of the extraordinary Sydney Lucas, a one-in-a-million phenom of a child actor, stole the show with her natural, moving Small Alison and her showstopper ‘Ring of Keys’, where she first sees the kind of butch lesbian that feels so right to her. While that doesn’t mean regularly talented child actors like Turnbull do any less of a moving portrait of Small Alison – she was very good and had the audience completely taken – it means that the balance changes. Here, Medium Alison (Eleanor Kane) stood out as the showstopper, especially with her exceptional performance of “Changing My Major”, where her first sexual experience (with Cherrelle Skeete’s wonderful Joan) forces her to be completely vulnerable, uproariously funny (her little jumps!), and so touching all at once. Hers was a stunning performance and the standout of the night.
Well, one of the standouts; it’s a show full of magical moments. Big Alison’s remorse turned into another such moment in an emotionally resonant and brilliant part (of a show that is entirely brilliant and emotional): during the song “Telephone Wire”, when her memory of her last moments with her father shift his focus from Medium Alison to Big Alison herself, implanting herself into the past to try to futilely change it yet again. Bruce’s gaze moving to the daughter he never got to see as an adult is the kind of moment in a play where, if you are human, you’ll start making little yelpy puppy sounds as you try to suppress your overwhelming sobs. The impact of this moment felt real, and a scene that is heartbreaking simply as written takes on new tragic life.
But even though the story is ostensibly about Alison, it’s her father, Bruce (Zubin Varla), who becomes the focus. Varla takes the complex character of Bruce in a different direction from Michael Cerveris, the original Bruce. Cerveris played him much more natural and reserved, so his anger was shocking, his truly cruel comments to his family seeming unforgivable but infrequent. Varla, on the other hand, had crazy eyes most of the time, so his unstable emotional state was evident and it let his rage fly off the handle more. It was clearer, and for longer, how troubled this Bruce was, and even though I think I prefer the more grounded take – the one that sees the ache in an everyman rather than someone who is more obviously troubled – his interpretation was valid and equally moving. His brilliant introduction – letting the audience see how much he values the beauty he sees in the world – before we see how fast he can descend into rage, is so well done, as are his interactions with all the young men in his life (played by a talented Ashley Samuels) especially when contrasted with how he treats his family in similar situations.
As Alison’s mother Helen, Jenna Russell masterfully harnesses her coldness and uses it as a weapon against her family and her own vulnerability. As usual, Helen’s big song “Days and Days” is set up and performed flawlessly, in a truly remarkable bit of songwriting that lets you understand all of her character’s motivations but completely disagree with her. The big change from the show being presented in the round paid off in this scene, when the set of the house changes into a surprisingly larger, lavish one. I was surprised that it didn’t stay in the round, especially since I’ve seen productions in the round at the Young Vic, and since the original director, Sam Gold, apparently directed this production too. But the changes worked, especially in this scene, and it was interesting to see the show presented from a regular proscenium, although Bruce’s final scenes felt a little static.
The brilliant songwriting is really the star of this show, the reason why it resonates and why every inch of it feels necessary and special. Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron’s score and book stand with the best of musical theatre. When I first heard some of it, I thought it was a little too simple. But its lack of big belted numbers or traditional musical theatre moments in favor of personal connection and delicate motifs makes it such a singular achievement in telling such an intimate story. Moments that I thought at first were to lift the somber mood, like when Small Alison imagines her family as a happy singing and dancing one like she watches on TV in “Raincoat of Love”, actually had me crying: It’s not a goofy break from the drama; it’s a heartbreaking look at the kind of happiness this poor child wishes she had. It’s forking sad. Okay so “Come to the Fun Home” is still a very silly moment that lets the kids have fun, but it’s followed by a scene that I don’t remember being so harrowing – when Bruce calls Small Alison in and she sees her first dead body. This small moment was riveting, especially with Big Alison’s anger at remembering this moment and her frustration that she’ll never understand her father’s reasons for doing it.
Such precise, flawless writing feels wrong to change, so the few lyric changes I noticed I don’t really understand. In the beginning, Small Alison originally orders her father to play airplane with her and sings “I wanna play airplane/I wanna put my arms out and fly/Like the Red Baron in the Sopwith Camel”. Apparently that’s a reference to Peanuts, when Snoopy pretends to fly on his doghouse. I don’t know anything about the Sopwith Camel or Snoopy pretending to fly in Peanuts but I know the Red Baron, so the line made overall sense to me – she wants to fly like a plane. To quote my girl Tahani, you can get some of these from context. But in this production, it’s changed to “I wanna put my arms out and fly/like Snoopy and the Red Baron”. Is that really a change that helps people get the reference? I feel like you either know that reference or you don’t, so it’s an odd change for me, dog.
But it’s a tiny non-issue with an overall great production of this incredible show. It’s by far the best musical playing in London right now. I love that such a small show about such specific characters feels so universal, and that it’s getting the chance to be loved by a new audience.
AUDIENCE
Since this is the first (only?) show with a lesbian protagonist and it’s heavily about characters’ sexuality, it’s drawing a more diverse crowd that you see in the theatre usually, which is awesome. But it means some possibly new theatergoers are not used to theatre etiquette. When Medium Alison writes home, “Dear mom and dad, I’m a lesbian”, one or two audience members whooped and shouted YASS. Audiences, I get that it’s amazing when you feel represented in art, but if you want to be a part of the action, become an actor. It is not a YAS moment. In fact, there are no YAS moments in this show. And just for everyone’s edification, don’t talk or sing along or bullshit like that in the theatre unless everyone onstage makes it clear that they want you to do so (e.g. during “No Time At All” in Pippin, and during the curtain call of “Mamma Mia!”. Pretty sure that’s it).
Shout out to the one usher at the Young Vic who was READY to snatch cell phones. We could be friends.
Hammarlund’s Big Alison carried the structure of the play well, with the memories eliciting reactions from her ranging from angry to embarrassed to remorseful. Her anger came when we saw her father stopping Small Alison (Harriet Turnbull) from expressing herself as she wanted to, or from her father’s quick temper and, sometimes, rage. Her embarrassment often came from truly hilarious moments of seeing her college-aged self try to sound smart but end up completely mortified. The great thing about getting different and unique incarnations of this show now is that different characters will shine the brightest depending on the cast and the interpretation. On Broadway, the discovery of the extraordinary Sydney Lucas, a one-in-a-million phenom of a child actor, stole the show with her natural, moving Small Alison and her showstopper ‘Ring of Keys’, where she first sees the kind of butch lesbian that feels so right to her. While that doesn’t mean regularly talented child actors like Turnbull do any less of a moving portrait of Small Alison – she was very good and had the audience completely taken – it means that the balance changes. Here, Medium Alison (Eleanor Kane) stood out as the showstopper, especially with her exceptional performance of “Changing My Major”, where her first sexual experience (with Cherrelle Skeete’s wonderful Joan) forces her to be completely vulnerable, uproariously funny (her little jumps!), and so touching all at once. Hers was a stunning performance and the standout of the night.
Well, one of the standouts; it’s a show full of magical moments. Big Alison’s remorse turned into another such moment in an emotionally resonant and brilliant part (of a show that is entirely brilliant and emotional): during the song “Telephone Wire”, when her memory of her last moments with her father shift his focus from Medium Alison to Big Alison herself, implanting herself into the past to try to futilely change it yet again. Bruce’s gaze moving to the daughter he never got to see as an adult is the kind of moment in a play where, if you are human, you’ll start making little yelpy puppy sounds as you try to suppress your overwhelming sobs. The impact of this moment felt real, and a scene that is heartbreaking simply as written takes on new tragic life.
But even though the story is ostensibly about Alison, it’s her father, Bruce (Zubin Varla), who becomes the focus. Varla takes the complex character of Bruce in a different direction from Michael Cerveris, the original Bruce. Cerveris played him much more natural and reserved, so his anger was shocking, his truly cruel comments to his family seeming unforgivable but infrequent. Varla, on the other hand, had crazy eyes most of the time, so his unstable emotional state was evident and it let his rage fly off the handle more. It was clearer, and for longer, how troubled this Bruce was, and even though I think I prefer the more grounded take – the one that sees the ache in an everyman rather than someone who is more obviously troubled – his interpretation was valid and equally moving. His brilliant introduction – letting the audience see how much he values the beauty he sees in the world – before we see how fast he can descend into rage, is so well done, as are his interactions with all the young men in his life (played by a talented Ashley Samuels) especially when contrasted with how he treats his family in similar situations.
As Alison’s mother Helen, Jenna Russell masterfully harnesses her coldness and uses it as a weapon against her family and her own vulnerability. As usual, Helen’s big song “Days and Days” is set up and performed flawlessly, in a truly remarkable bit of songwriting that lets you understand all of her character’s motivations but completely disagree with her. The big change from the show being presented in the round paid off in this scene, when the set of the house changes into a surprisingly larger, lavish one. I was surprised that it didn’t stay in the round, especially since I’ve seen productions in the round at the Young Vic, and since the original director, Sam Gold, apparently directed this production too. But the changes worked, especially in this scene, and it was interesting to see the show presented from a regular proscenium, although Bruce’s final scenes felt a little static.
The brilliant songwriting is really the star of this show, the reason why it resonates and why every inch of it feels necessary and special. Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron’s score and book stand with the best of musical theatre. When I first heard some of it, I thought it was a little too simple. But its lack of big belted numbers or traditional musical theatre moments in favor of personal connection and delicate motifs makes it such a singular achievement in telling such an intimate story. Moments that I thought at first were to lift the somber mood, like when Small Alison imagines her family as a happy singing and dancing one like she watches on TV in “Raincoat of Love”, actually had me crying: It’s not a goofy break from the drama; it’s a heartbreaking look at the kind of happiness this poor child wishes she had. It’s forking sad. Okay so “Come to the Fun Home” is still a very silly moment that lets the kids have fun, but it’s followed by a scene that I don’t remember being so harrowing – when Bruce calls Small Alison in and she sees her first dead body. This small moment was riveting, especially with Big Alison’s anger at remembering this moment and her frustration that she’ll never understand her father’s reasons for doing it.
Such precise, flawless writing feels wrong to change, so the few lyric changes I noticed I don’t really understand. In the beginning, Small Alison originally orders her father to play airplane with her and sings “I wanna play airplane/I wanna put my arms out and fly/Like the Red Baron in the Sopwith Camel”. Apparently that’s a reference to Peanuts, when Snoopy pretends to fly on his doghouse. I don’t know anything about the Sopwith Camel or Snoopy pretending to fly in Peanuts but I know the Red Baron, so the line made overall sense to me – she wants to fly like a plane. To quote my girl Tahani, you can get some of these from context. But in this production, it’s changed to “I wanna put my arms out and fly/like Snoopy and the Red Baron”. Is that really a change that helps people get the reference? I feel like you either know that reference or you don’t, so it’s an odd change for me, dog.
But it’s a tiny non-issue with an overall great production of this incredible show. It’s by far the best musical playing in London right now. I love that such a small show about such specific characters feels so universal, and that it’s getting the chance to be loved by a new audience.
AUDIENCE
Since this is the first (only?) show with a lesbian protagonist and it’s heavily about characters’ sexuality, it’s drawing a more diverse crowd that you see in the theatre usually, which is awesome. But it means some possibly new theatergoers are not used to theatre etiquette. When Medium Alison writes home, “Dear mom and dad, I’m a lesbian”, one or two audience members whooped and shouted YASS. Audiences, I get that it’s amazing when you feel represented in art, but if you want to be a part of the action, become an actor. It is not a YAS moment. In fact, there are no YAS moments in this show. And just for everyone’s edification, don’t talk or sing along or bullshit like that in the theatre unless everyone onstage makes it clear that they want you to do so (e.g. during “No Time At All” in Pippin, and during the curtain call of “Mamma Mia!”. Pretty sure that’s it).
Shout out to the one usher at the Young Vic who was READY to snatch cell phones. We could be friends.
