Lizzie Borden’s infamous story jumps to the stage through this new musical adaptation transferring to London for a limited run. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if the montage is actually a good stab.
There’s something about naming a child ‘Elizabeth’ that makes them all become queens at some point. There’s the English monarch. There’s Queen of Fraud, Elizabeth Holmes. And there’s the parent-slasher b*tch that queens like me are supposed to revere. I’d better call my bank to make sure my inheritance is secured… Passion, betrayal and a lot of blood – even the latter is not stranger to the musical form (previous incursions including the world famous adaptation, for one reason or another, of the Stephen King classic). As shocking as it may result to some, a thriller can actually shine when turned into this genre. And though early attempts may have not slayed it at their beginnings, plots dealing with a brutal axe murderer are not precisely cutting-edge onstage.
The story of Lizzie Borden has fascinated the public since the infamous events took place back in late 19th-century America. A socially divisive topic at the moment (and probably “trial of the century” material), the curiosity surrounding if she did it and, if so, what were the reasons for her crime have inspired hundreds of books, films, plays and even a brief impersonation by Martin Prince on The Simpsons (arguably, the most memorable). It comes as no surprise, then, that a musical has found its way into the London scene. The angles to approach it are countless: feelings, psyche, a comment on how a community can create their own monster. The chances to create something noticeable and introspective are remarkably graspable. But sadly, all ties with them seem to have been severed.
Directed and choreographed by William Whelton and written by Steve Cheslik-deMeyer, Tim Maner and Alan Stevens Hewitt, the show recounts (in much of a linear manner) the occurrences surrounding the background and aftermath of the homicide. Grief, frustration and confined love dwell within this 85-minute tale featuring loud hard rock, sometimes catchy tunes and even louder explosions of camp. The intention is definitely the right one. But the delivery, unfortunately, isn’t – as none of its themes get to be properly explored (as they barely mentioned as almost a checkpoint to cross), preventing us from any understanding (let alone, bonding) with what’s unraveling before our eyes.
Moving far too quickly, and lacking a well-developed book that allows it to set both pacing and depth to the character’s journey, the show follows the traditional formula for what a musical is expected to be (the I want song; the romantic duet; astonishingly, no angry mob moment, though). But in doing so, it compromises the instinct to build its own voice – providing us with a slightly unstructured narrative that, above all, hardly lets us connect with either its story or the people living through it. In addition, the performances, though exuding some technical competence, feel too distant and, fairly, a little disengaged, still not presenting us with a fulfilling construction to help us look into their soul of their roles – all in all, resulting in an interpretation that, though correctly executed (no pun intended), looks incapable to spread its wings and fly on its own.
Lizzie has joined the list of culturally iconic offenders revived through song and dance. From bleak, analytical pieces like Sondheim’s Assassins to larger than life melodramas such as Phantom of the Opera, this artform has found numerous ways to turn despised outcasts into misconceived (somehow, charming heroes). Lizzie is still looking for its own. A nice first attempt to envision her plight through different, and perhaps modern, eyes – the montage holds a few interesting elements, but still is a long way ahead before making the cut. It’s not about the forty whacks (or forty one), but to smash it all at once.
All pictures credit to Pamela Raith.
Lizzie plays at London’s Southwark Playhouse Elephant until 2 December. Tickets are available on the following link.
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