THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
Music and lyrics by Joss Stone and Dave Stewart; book by Lauren Gunderson (based on the novel by Audrey Niffenegger and the screenplay by Bruce Joel Rubin)
Apollo Theatre, Shaftesbury Avenue, London W1D 7EZ until 30 March 2024
This is the world premiere of a new musical combining the considerable musical talents of rock luminary Dave Stewart (Eurythmics) and soul songstress Joss Stone. They’ve combined forces with acclaimed American playwright Lauren Gunderson to adapt a novel which became an international bestseller, and which holds a huge place in the hearts of so many of its readers. The novel was also made into a successful 2009 movie but there’s a key switch here in that the story is now told from the perspective of the wife.
Joanna Woodward plays Clare, a sculptor who is married to Henry who is, well when he hangs around for any bit, a librarian, but is mostly being sucked out of our universe (for no discernible reason) to time travel, where he keeps losing his clothes. We learn that this first occurred when as a boy he was riding in a car with his mother which then crashed and killed her. The novel may have mined the psychological depths of that tragedy, but the ‘book’ of the musical falls short and leaves us perplexed as to the ‘why’ of all this.
It's also quite odd that a piece that could explore the potential magic and mystery of time travel instead presents it as if it’s all a terrible imposition on our hero, derailing his attempts to get on with his, let’s face it, pedestrian suburban life. Henry only travels back and forth in his not very exciting life and never really benefits from any of it. The show ends with a saccharine “Love wins the day” finale. Is that it?
But we can’t look to the possible poetry in Stewart and Stone’s songs to fill us in on the big ideas here as they are for the most part anonymously banal - a mixture of soft rock with occasional soul infusions or funky guitar riffs. There is no build up with the songs and therefore no pay off, they function as AOR ballads rather than musical theater numbers.
The singing though is impressive. Both Woodward and David Hunter as Henry have fantastic ranges and warm engaging vocal styles which helps us connect with the emotions in the songs even when what’s underneath is a bit thin. Hunter has a grizzled leading man quality to him too, and Woodward navigates a difficult character with finesse. In the supporting roles Hiba Elchikhe shines as Charisse, the big voiced and big shoulder-padded ‘friend of the heroine’.
Production wise it is slick and Bill Buckhurst’s direction gives it great pace. Anne Fleischle’s designs are (for her) rather uninspiring but Chris Fisher’s illusions are cleverly eye catching. Kudos must also go to Hunter’s dresser, who manages the most lightning-fast costume changes ever seen. Fleischle’s costumes and Susanna Peretz’s wigs and make up are horrific, but in a good way, reminding us of the horror of the 1980s.
The novel claims to mine the deep rivulets of coupledom but this is not apparent here. A key problem is that the chronology darts all over the place to an extent that it becomes really irritating, never really getting any purchase on our emotions or stopping long enough to allow characters to expand beyond the sitcom stooge. The problem is the conceit itself - with the ability to time travel, there is no real peril because there is always an out and everything is ephemeral anyway. “I’m not supposed to tell, ever” moans Henry about letting people in on what might be coming next, and then he does just that.
For such a touchstone of our culture, as the novel has become, it is also strikes me as odd that it is predicated on the idea that the perfect man is one who keeps disappearing. Not sure what that tells us, but it’s not good.
