Review of ‘The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry’: “Wandering musical is only halfway there”

Following its initial run at the Chichester Festival, the stage adaptation of Rachel Joyce’s popular novel arrives in the West End, playing for a limited run until mid-May. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if it walks the extra mile.

I wasn’t rooting for Harold Fry. I know I should have, but I wasn’t. I just couldn’t. It’s not that I didn’t try. It’s not that I didn’t want to. I just wasn’t allowed. I was promised a poignant, introspective musical that pulled at every single heartstring like no other. Some critics raved about it during the Chichester run. Many viewers did too. I don’t know if reviewing one show every night has deprived me of a soul, but I haven’t found that much poignancy in Harold’s pilgrimage, which, rather than unlikely, feels unnecessary.

The worst part of it is that it didn’t need to be. The premise brims with pathos. And no other genre owns that quality better than a musical — that is, if they know how to do it. There’s a lot to dissect about this piece. Thankfully, not everything is bad. Some key elements of this stage adaptation are actually in decent shape — but they are not enough. And inevitably, the flaws pervade.

It’s another day in Harold’s unremarkable life. As he sits by the kitchen table with his wife, he’s informed that a former colleague has been taken to a hospice, as she is losing her battle against cancer.

It’s been twenty years since they last met. Yet, Harold still thinks of her fondly (I couldn’t help being influenced by the theatre next door). He drafts several letters, but none of them suffice. And it’s thanks to a garage employee that he has the oddest epiphany — he will walk 600 miles from his hometown in Devon to say a final hello and goodbye to his friend.

It’s a strange motivation. Not the fact that he wants to reunite with someone that means so much to him, but his determination to do it on foot. Does the show give answers to that? In some way, but it doesn’t make it easy to grasp.

The garage worker delivers a flamboyant number, where fluorescent violet letters flash out the word ‘BELIEVE’ while cheerleaders emerge from nowhere dressed in piñata outfits — they are supposed to be car wash rollers. It doesn’t make much sense, but we’ve been asked to have faith. We might fail them in that endeavour, however, just like the writing has failed the story.

We can confidently blame the show’s book as the primary culprit, followed by a faulty structure and a wrong musical outline. For the most part, the dialogue doesn’t set the right tone for the characters to break into song. The cues are not organic. And for at least half of the score, the numbers are either overexpositional or groundless. Sometimes, even both.

The main issue stems from its poor understanding of what deserves to be sung about and what doesn’t. There are too many numbers given to irrelevant personages whose contribution to the narrative is virtually nonexistent.

There’s the immigrant doctor who teaches Harold about how screwed up (she uses another term) things are for both of them. And there is the random stranger who, five seconds after bumping into Harold, asks for advice about the man he’s in a BDSM relationship with, which oddly transitions into a Fred Astaire extravaganza.

These are just two of the many examples that denote the show’s cluelessness. It prioritises spectacle over substance. Consequently, the narrative suffers. And the implosion is inevitable.

Everyone Harold Fry comes across leaves so fast that they rarely make an impact. Simultaneously, their conflicts are resolved so rapidly that one can only wonder why they introduced them in the first place.

At some point, he befriends a stray dog. Two scenes later (figure of speech), the dog runs away for good after Harold tries to remove a thorn from his paw. Right before Act One concludes, an annoying sidekick joins him on his quest. As the performance resumes, they get into an argument and sever all ties with each other. Again, it’s only taken two scenes (literally) for that vapid arc to unfold. And even so, that short segment feels like a massive waste of time and energy — both creatively and from the audience.

What makes it so frustrating is how terribly neglected the most pivotal components in the recount are. Harold’s relationship with his coworker is reduced to a few brief flashbacks, and their lifelong companionship is hardly given any music.

Fortunately, the haunting memories of his late son have more prominence. Yet, even that storyline lacks development, and a sense of sketchiness imbues the overall execution. The same applies to Harold’s wife, Maureen, who admittedly sings the most moving, brooding song in the entire show, but who is also painfully underwritten.

Despite all these crucial problems, we can still praise Passenger’s highly enjoyable score, which features a folk-based foundation embellished with touches of old Broadway and world music.

On the whole, the melodies are well-crafted, capturing the right sentiment for each moment and teeming with tunefulness and memorability. In addition, his lyrics are sharp and discerning — they display adequate subtext, and they are properly wrought through some rousing wordplay and competent rhyming.

There are no issues to discuss about the production. The staging is beautifully put together through a mix of practical props and screens. Paul Constable’s lighting deserves ample credit for its effectiveness, whose intricate palette builds a solid atmosphere, and it vividly encapsulates the duality of the protagonist’s journey, where the dullness of his everyday life collides with the vibrant landscapes he discovers throughout his itinerary.

Most of the company is just as commendable. Their renditions overflow with presence, rapport, and flair, while both their vocal and dancing skills are generally impeccable. Mark Addy delivers an appropriate portrayal of Harold Fry, which still feels honest and layered despite the script’s limitations.

Noah Mullins’s also shines in the double role of The Balladeer and Harold’s son, despite his characters’ potential being heavily underused. And Jenna Russell excels like no one else through her deeply moving performance as Maureen, whose spirited, uncomplicated charm makes us wish the show revolved around her.

It’s one of the most anticipated shows of this year’s early season. Wistfully, the rumours about its brilliance seem widely exaggerated. Although it’s moderately entertaining, Harold Fry‘s unlikely pilgrimage is more likely to come from theatre aficionados, as, despite its good intentions, it doesn’t provide enough reasons to travel to its newly acquired West End home. It doesn’t walk in the footsteps of the predecessors who set up the right path. And it certainly hasn’t built a new one to become the next great British musical.

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All pictures credit to Tristram Kenton.

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry plays at London’s Theatre Royal Haymarket until 18 April. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara