Review of ‘Midnight Cowboy, The Musical’: “It’s barely coming together”

The 1960s film classic lands on the London stage through this brand new musical adaptation playing at the Southwark Playhouse until the end of the month. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if its touch is drilling enough to blow its own trumpet.

The world is a dark place. I should know – I have flatmates. But moving on to today’s show, the truth is that, like it or hate it, and despite its depiction of the queer world probably not being the most amicable, Midnight Cowboy still conveys a poignant message of friendship and loyalty in a society where everyone cares about nothing else but covering their own asses (no pun intended).

That was the film. And like with every major film, the current mainstream theatre scene has felt the urge to adopt it and turn it into a musical – perhaps, in the hopes that the appeal of the original brand may be enough to make it work onstage. It never is, though. And though a plot exploring themes of abuse, love, and psychological trauma is actually a strong concept for a show of this kind, there’s a lot of ground work that following the film ad verbatim, with a few songs scattered here and there, is simply not going to provide. And it hasn’t.

The movie was a classic in its very own right. It’s as dodgy and disturbing as it’s truthful. It depicts a long-gone era (or so I’m hoping for) of absolute decadence – not because of sex desire, but due to the hypocrisy surrounding it. What’s baffling about this version, nonetheless, is how sexless it really feels. Yes, there are some bed scenes, but at no point do we find ourselves taken into that universe. Everything looks distant, uncompelling, and, all in all, sterile.

There’s no energy travelling through the story – let alone, the cast, who flaunts talent but seems to be corseted by not the best direction. None of the tunes are memorable. The score is quite bland and forgettable, usually going nowhere and struggling to instigate an applause. The lyrics aren’t honed enough, either – lacking profundity, wit, and constantly displaying errors in prosody, along with rather lazy rhymes more often than not.

But the most striking thing about its repertoire is that, regardless of what the title says, you can’t call this piece a musical. There are so many key moments that could (and should) have been driven through melody, and yet they choose spoken lines. On the other hand, the gap between every number (especially, during Act One) is too big even for a book musical – old standards included.

Yet, we could forgive all of that should the piece be able to, at least, keep us engaged throughout the character’s journey. Wistfully, we keep facing a wall preventing us from building even the slightest bond with him. Here, we have the story of a poor ’69 Texan boy (yes, I know…) moving to New York to reinvent himself as a male prostitute, only to face even more hardships and grief than the ones he escaped from in his home town. The worst things are going to happen to him, and to his best friend. Those who have seen the film will always remember that closing scene. And yet, when that moment takes place onstage, we couldn’t care less.

We can acknowledge some efforts put into the production in both its staging and lighting design. Credited to Andrew Exeter, his simple approach is however quite effective, and probably the only standout of the show – featuring nothing else but a reflective black box space, complemented by some phosphorescent projections, occasional behind-the-gauze appearances, and some additional props to fill the scene. It manages to build an atmosphere, and it sets up a more suitable tone for the recount than the writing ever does – though sadly, the dullness of the script ends up obscuring any external success.

As I watched the performance, I kept asking myself: “how is it possible that the American Dad! parody has more pathos than a full-scale two-hour-and-half adaptation?”. It’s difficult to express a reaction towards a work that, most unfortunately, generates basically none. The creatives had every opportunity to explore such stirring topics and concoct an extremely heart-touching and thought-provoking piece of theatre. Instead, they gave us an unpolished, unemotional reproduction of a classic, which offers very little justification as for what it’s been taken to the stage. Midnight Cowboy ticks every box to make of it a great musical. But before that, a musical needs to be made first.

All pictures credit to Pamela Raith.

Midnight Cowboy plays at London’s Southwark Playhouse Elephant until 17 May. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara