Review of ‘Ride The Cyclone’: “Funfair-themed musical builds a whirling carousel of songs but the attraction derails”

The Southwark Playhouse hosts the London premiere of Jacob Richmond and Brooke Maxwell’s cult musical. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if this metaphysical ride is Carnie-gie Hall material.

Life is a roller coaster, or so they say. Apparently, death can be too — or at least, what causes it. From the very start, the show gives us a defunct experience. I’m not referring to something the rest of the art world no longer offers — we’ll discuss its “sources of inspiration” later. What I mean is that, except for the ominous automaton figure watching from above the proscenium, all the characters are pushing daisies, and struggling to get their heads together about it — especially the one that’s been decapitated.

There’s a cult following backing the life (no pun intended) of Ride The Cyclone, a new Canadian musical that celebrated its London premiere last night at the Southwark Playhouse. It’s a weird premise but an interesting one, albeit hardly original. A bunch of youngsters hop on a carnival ride and suffer a fatal accident. They are taken to purgatory, where a Zoltar-looking divine figure allows them to prove their worth, so one of them can be reborn.

If you’re thinking this concept sounds a bit too familiar, that’s because you’ve heard of it before. There might not be a discordant fugue as the Overture or a ten-million-worth pop ballad as the eleven-o-clock number, but the essence of Cats lingers throughout the entire piece. Add to it its peculiar pleasure-garden setting, and the Andrew Lloyd Webber homage is completed.

The similarities are uncanny, and the differences are barely prominent. We may not have Elliot’s anthropomorphic felines bragging about their inspiring abilities (teaching the mice how to sew and the cockroaches how to march is a skill I still hope to master some day), but it wouldn’t surprise me if the lucky one was brought up (up, up, up) to their version of the Heavyside Layer on a gigantic tyre.

Putting those comparisons aside, or perhaps together, the show doesn’t really stand as a musical — at least, not in the conventional sense of the word. And it doesn’t convince in its own form either. It’s an enjoyable song cycle, a melange of catchy tunes and occasionally sharp lyrics exploring the quirky nature of each character. But that’s about it. The idea of each one competing for the chance to be brought to life comes across as an excuse, a weak framework holding an even feebler structure that could collapse any minute. And it does.

There’s no real arc for the personages. Throughout the entire performance, we are presented with little more than exposition. They reflect on their backgrounds, what they regret and wish they could change, and what they have achieved in the short time they’ve been alive. The script hints at a few interesting opportunities for growth and conflict. For the most part, however, all those themes remain parked, and the only attention they get is a rushed mention that swiftly falls into oblivion.

The authors might be unaware of the inner workings of a musical. Everything that’s crucial to the narrative should be told through song. The exceptions to that rule are limited, and their writing proves none of them.

It’s actually infuriating to see how many possibilities for action-driven numbers and tunes dealing with the characters’ relationships are purposely ignored. The examples are innumerable. Take Ocean, the self-appointed leader of the group. She is haughty and egocentric, treating her best friend, Constance, like a disposable sidekick. Of course, she is convinced that she deserves reincarnation more than anyone else. And it won’t be until the end that she realizes the severity of her attitude and tries to become a better person.

Imagine how many poignant, thought-provoking songs they could have come up with for that plot element alone. Instead, the potential for a compelling score gets scrapped and replaced by a couple of banal lines, in a book that’s clunky at best and whose humour very rarely lands.

It would be unfair to say it’s no fun, but overall, the piece is a massive helter-skelter. The numbers are amusing on their own, usually well-staged and featuring ear-pleasing melodies. Yet, the subjects they tackle are virtually the same over and over again. Inevitably, an annoying feeling of repetitiveness begins to emerge, and it’s subsequently underpinned by a more disheartening twinge of aimlessness.

The cast does an excellent job at bringing both story and characters to life (no pun intended). There’s a subtle lack of depth in the renditions, but it’s clearly due to their short history treading the boards. As for the rest, their portrayals are genuinely impeccable — extraordinary vocals, tangible rapport, electrifying stamina, and sufficient drollery. Among them, Grace Galloway earns the highest praise in the role of Jane Doe, whose superb comedic timing and enthralling soprano register make her the big winner of the night (late spoiler alert).

This is far from a trip to Disneyland. And certainly, some moments crash more than spending some time on the bumper cars. But despite all those flaws, there’s still a pulse beating throughout the Ride The Cyclone, probably stemming from the piece’s true value knocking desperately from inside its cage. The malfunctions are evident but easily approachable. And so, some proper refurbishment could transform this ersatz of a musical into a full-fledged E-ticket attraction. To some, this version might be their cup of tea, but those have always made me dizzy.

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All pictures credit to Danny Kaan.

Ride The Cyclone plays at London’s Southwark Playhouse Elephant until 10 January. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara