This is an odd show to become an international hit - an irish playwright telling a story set in 1930s Duluth, with 19 songs by Bob Dylan crossing 49 years of his career across 14 of his albums. But since opening at London's Old Vic, this has drawn audiences in London and New York to a distinctively different musical production, as much about the drama as it is about the songs, with soul and heart and unexpected beauty.
Conor McPherson is probably best known for theatre with a distinctly horror edge, whether it be the ghosts with plays like "The Weir" and "Shining City", demonic forces like in "The Seafarer" or the horror of a theatre critic among vampires in the monologue "St Nicholas". This play (also directed by McPherson) has its own discomforting edges as madness and misery consume the residents of a Duluth, Minesotta boarding house during the depression, as people are confronted with desperation and their need to escape, often expressed through those self-same Dylan songs, given gorgeous period-appropriate arrangements with a rich band made up of four onstage musicians with assistance by the rest of the cast. It's paced in such a way that there's never really time for an applause break after each song, so we're carried by the narrative as things proceed to their inevitably grim fate in a tale that borrows a little from some of Dylan's songs and a little bit more from the works of John Steinbeck.
The cast is a mixture of familiar strong hands, some in interestingly different roles - Lisa McCune has never seemed more eager to break away from her popular conception as a TV sweetheart, into the disturbed and bitter Elizabeth Laine seen here, full of recriminations and disturbance, while Peter Carroll and Grant Piro both channel the more menacing parts of their repertoire, Helen Dallimore is earthy and compelling (and also plays a mean drum kit), Zahra Newman shows her seemingly endless versatility in a role that's miles away from most of what I've seen her do before, and Callum Francis gives a role miles away from his acclaimed Lola from Kinky Boots. Greg Stone has maybe the most difficult monologue in the entire show and makes it compellingly painful, and Terrence Donavan provides narration as the town doctor with suitable forboding. There's not a weak link anywhere, and it's a pleasure to see Dylan songs sung so well (it's a cliche to say Bob is not the best singer of his own work, but it's also true).
Rae Smith's set designs combine simple furnishings with gauzy backdrops to provide interesting settings for the intimate confrontations, with singers seen through the gauze providing backup to the action.
This is a brave experience for commercial theatres to be trying - it's nothing like you might expect a Bob Dylan musical jukebox musical to be, but it's compelling and dangerous and heartfelt. Canberra Theatre Centre is listed as a co-producer so hopefully the tour will pop up here sometime, but if not it's worth the trip to Sydney to catch a show that's raw and compelling. Recommended.
No comments:
Post a Comment