London’s West End celebrates the opening of a new intimate theatre with the return of this rep revue about urban relationships, putting together some of Sondheim’s most beloved tunes. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if this affiancing piece is something better to separate from.
I don’t like Sondheim. Yes – you’ve read right. I dared said the unsayable. You may bash me now. Strike me. Drag me down the floor and humiliate me. Exactly what you asked me to do to you the other night. Seriously, though – it was the afternoon. But the truth is I’ve never managed to bond with the work of who’s been christened (not sure if he would have liked that word) as the American Bard of musical theatre. I do get the appeal, but can’t find the sparkle in it. I understand the elements (yes, yes, I know someone’s already bitching about how I don’t appreciate sophistication – neither did your parents when they made you). But all in all, all of that profundity audiences usually rave about (a trait I always treasure in every piece) seems to be dodged by my own sensitivity – perhaps the results of kindred spirits (there’s too many things about his life I can connect with) that nonetheless took distant paths of expression.
We’re often encouraged to try and experiment (if these walls could talk…). And as they tell you, never say never. So last week I decided to venture into what, presumably, would be a night of mixed feelings. On the one hand, the excitement of a new pub theatre built amidst the hustle and bustle of the West End. On the other, an evening of sometimes tuneful, sometimes dissonant (and in the end, unattractive to my taste) music that would have it very hard to resonate with me at any point. Yet, a glass of wine can help ease the pain of a bad performance (don’t get too overexcited, that other show’s actor knows…). But surprisingly enough, I hardly needed a sip.
Enter Marry Me A Little (again, no thrust – ain’t gonna happen, babe), an introspective one-hour revue exploring the trials and tribulations of dating. The old Hollywood story of two strangers living different lives but sharing one same journey, the show takes us through an insightful analysis of our relationships not only with others, but also with ourselves when it comes to love. The thrills, the nerves, and of course, the frustration and pain, too. All of it narrated through a ever-flowing rendition of non-stop music – combined with (at least, to me) an obvious but still highly perceptive and often sharp view behind the armour that we, as victims of society, find ourselves forced to wear.
An interesting introspection into our own humanity through the unflappable eyes of wisdom, director Robert McWhir manages to create a compelling recount cleverly intersected through a generally well-selected repertoire and effectively evoked action. We may not get the whole tale, but that’s exactly the point. There’s room for interpretation. And that’s precisely what makes it enticing – and, ultimately, able to reverberate along each one’s own personal background.
That doesn’t excuse the fact that a proper book (entirely non-existing in this case) would have helped the montage feel, on the whole, more polished – not only making the pacing more efficient but also letting the recount breathe at points where it’s so crucially demanded. In any case, it’s fair to say that, anyhow, the rendition works rather flawlessly – staying inviting from start to finish, and at some moments, despite my lack of fondness for the composer, accomplishing some emotional reactions from my side.
The achievement is, of course, overall referable to its undeniably capable cast – both delivering their parts with honesty and flair. Shelley Rivers gives quite an enchanting portrayal in the ‘Woman’ role, crafting a boisterous yet tender image of her character and excelling in her acting skills. Yet, the biggest praise goes to Markus Sodengren in the part of ‘Man’, boasting the same performing abilities while adding further presence and, above all, sensational vocals to his rather touching interpretation.
Nothing comes as new when we talk about love and relationships. It’s always the same kind of sh**. I mean… Well, you don’t know if I intended to end with -it or -ag. But yes, it sucks. Oh dear… In any case, seeing ourselves reflected through someone else’s quest is the ultimate purpose of art. Because that’s what our nature is all about – to feel heard, represented and, most importantly, understood. Fortunately enough, Marry Me A Little gets its hands quite full with that sort of content. It’s sound and relatable. It’s mature and sincere. It may not be perfect, but neither are the things it talks about. At the end of the day, we only need that tiny glitz of charm to find ourselves engaged.
All pictures credit to Peter Davies.
Marry Me A Little plays at London’s Stage Door Theatre until 13 April. Tickets are available on the following link.