Sheridan Smith returns to the London scene by starring in this new original musical featuring a score by Rufus Wainwright and direction by Ivo Van Hoven. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the production, to let us know if the piece is either a show stopper or a show to be stopped.
“It’s just a change”, utters the agitated writer as a bloodthirsty group of theatremakers corner her up in the rehearsal room. The play they’ve been carrying out for a few weeks now is close to its Broadway gala night. But just as the nerves run higher and its premiere gets closer, so do the issues. Too many things that do not work. Too many chances of getting the whole thing wrong – starting, in fact, with a song with too weak a theme (at least, in the way it’s been delivered) to be featured as a number. Fact meets fiction. And fiction mirrors its own creation. A show that deals with a problematic production, only to find out that, most sadly, that’s also, and precisely, its case.
Last night marked the official opening of (forgive the repetition) Opening Night, a new original musical with a book by Ivo Van Hove (also director) and acclaimed singer-songwriter Rufus Wainwright. Based on the John Cassavetes 1977 film, the piece returns the chaos behind the scene during the development of an upcoming montage to the Great White Way. Though not crafting anything innovative (the meta style has been explored in practically every possible manner in this artform), the potential the premise brings is still strong enough. Unfortunately, though, the real drama doesn’t come from what’s been penned on the page, but the turmoil we’re encountered with onstage.
Following the traditional musical theatre formula, its writing’s main flaw stems, precisely, from what seems to be a complete lack of understanding and, above all, instinct for the genre. There’s an “I want” moment for the main character, which is complemented by a redeeming number by the end of Act Two. There’s an initial song serving as the exposition, and a few duos to advance the characters’ bonds. None of them work, wistfully. We could go into detail signaling every small aspect leading to its collapse, but if we’d try to summarize it, the main reason comes from its unhinged structure. Many of its numbers simply do not deserve to be, as the topics they cover are not powerful enough to justify any personage bursting into song.
The complications continue with Wainwright’s composing style. Though introducing us to some interesting textures through its sometimes transcendent harmonies, most of the score sounds entirely unpolished – giving the impression of being crafted after germinal ideas that have not fully evolved into proper motifs. In addition, the absence of memorability in its tunes (with the exception of a couple of, surprisingly, quite melodious excerpts) is deeply affected by what looks as an attempt of pastiching Sondheim – too personal a voice to be mimicked, especially in a story that cries for a more commercial approach.
The words play another crucial role in the piece’s ineffectiveness, with the lyrics requiring further profundity, more refined prosody and better thought rhymes (apart from an increase in their presence). On the other hand, it appears as if there’s been very little communication between the composer and the book writer, with most of the scenes not only unable to set up solid cues, but also bringing quite a bit of incohesiveness between the dialogue and sung-through parts.
With a set and lighting design by Jan Versweywled, fans of the Jamie Lloyd revision of Sunset Boulevard will be familiarized with the production’s take – also recurring to live recordings of the performers with the excuse of a documentary being filmed all through the narrative. Leaving out a tiny bunch of not too pivotal snippets, the use of cameras also seems misguided – taking more than bringing and, all in all, creating a distraction that serves little purpose to the storytelling.
Despite all of this, there’s still some praise to be given – that coming solely from some of its cast members. Nicola Hughes gives a compelling portrayal of Sarah, the author, drawing out the fragility of her role through a multi-layered rendition. On the other side, Hadley Fraser excels through his depiction of Broadway director Manny, providing the part with charm and a tiny bit of introspection. As for Sheridan Smith, it’s fair to say that there’s enchantment in her acting, but there’s still blemishes that prevent us from believing her interpretation – not picturing enough the deep psychological drama the protagonist is supposed to go through and drag everyone around her into.
One of the most anticipated shows of the season, Opening Night sadly fails to live up to the expectations its A-list team of actors and creatives have instigated. It’s difficult to know when or how, but there must have been a point when everything started to crumble. But for some reason, no one seemed to speak the truth out loud. Or perhaps they did, but no one in charge would listen. A somber example of how a wonderful concept can be turned into exactly the opposite when not handled accordingly, the prospects of this piece being sufficiently fixed are, regrettably, scarce. There’s so much you can do, after all. But in this one, unless starting again from scratch, there may be nothing.
All pictures credit to Jan Versweyveld.
Opening Night plays at London’s Gielgud Theatre until 27 July. Tickets are available on the following link.