Review of ‘The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind’: “Airy musical has power but no electricity”

I wish it had succeeded. Much like I wished to root for its main character. It’s not that I didn’t want the kid to build the wind generator and save his family from famine. I just wanted to be part of his journey, his struggles, and his eventual triumph. It’s surprising how a musical involving starvation, political corruption, and family bonds can actually feel so empty inside. But it does. And although the possibility for a more compelling piece keeps floating in the air, the show ultimately gets caught in its own vortex of superficiality.

If you haven’t got my drift, I’ll be happy to articulate. And I promise to reduce my windy-pun emissions. That doesn’t mean I will comply, though. In any case, there are certain aspects that any musical- or narrative, for that matter -should respect if they want to deliver something remotely hearty, inspiring, and above all, engaging. And they shouldn’t be too difficult to bring into the equation, as long as the writers are willing to put in the necessary effort.

There is a reason we are touched by the miseries of the 19th-century French people, even though (I gather) none of us ever knew that world. And another reason why we can relate to the tale of a deformed genius ostracised by society and turned into the monster they created. It’s not the specifics that resonate with us. It’s the universal themes that travel directly into our hearts and make us feel integrated. Some way or another, anyone could be that person suffering, hoping, or simply existing onstage. It hits us. That is the formula that makes the real chemistry between the material and the viewer.

Suffice it to say that is hardly the case in The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind. Although the recount’s premise is robust, its execution fails to connect with the audience, whether at an entertainment level or on a deeper level. It’s not boring- its lively numbers may have helped in that department -, but it isn’t gripping either. And the more it evolves, the less progress it makes.

The concept brims with opportunities for introspective exploration. Sadly, all of them go ignored. Thirteen-year-old Jeremiah is kicked out of school in a small rural village in Central Malawi because his father can no longer afford the tuition. But he still wants to learn. And he’s determined to do so. A tale of resilience and self-belief unfolds. Or at least, it should have. They might have given us the basics both in form and content, but there’s not much else to grasp in what, in the end, is a one-dimensional journey with little to no character arcs.

Although the protagonist’s motivations are clear, they are barely given any insight. Beyond the scarcity his community is facing, his inner conflict stems from his yearning to prove himself. Add that to an altruist spirit, and the result is a captivating role whose tenacity is only surpassed by his endearment. He is still inviting, but the qualities he needs to be the hero of his story are heavily neglected.

Neither the songs nor the script delve into his transformational process. The obstacles he must overcome don’t come out imposing enough. Either their consequences are vague, or they haven’t produced any whatsoever. There’s no failure preceding his achievements. No moment of self-doubt before regaining the confidence he needs to make things finally happen. And eventually, his victory is watered down by the fact that we haven’t experienced much of a personal strife.

The same applies to the dynamics between the characters, which are handled just as vapidly. The father-son bond is one of the narrative’s cornerstones. However, its poignancy remains unlocked. Once again, there is no real journey. Only a few attempts at confrontation, which ultimately lead nowhere.

Jeremiah’s determination to demonstrate what he can do, especially to his dad, could have been the show’s main driving force. It’s an idea that pervades every male character — being forced out of your childhood to become the man your family needs you to be. It’s an incredibly powerful topic. And yet, it’s so weakly introduced. It doesn’t reverberate. Or even solidify. And inevitably, it becomes another entry in a long list of missed shots for pathos and profundity.

Tim Sutton’s score doesn’t stand out either. Despite its enticing African-infused flavour, the songs are derivative and generic for the most part, employing exceedingly similar chord progressions and maintaining a cheerful mood that sounds misguided at best and inappropriate at worst. Countless times, we come across melodies that not only do not serve the narrative but also completely undermine it. And just as frustratingly, nearly none of the numbers moves the plot along. Neither do they provide sufficient character growth.

The lyrics don’t make much of an improvement either. Although the rhyming is adequate (yet quite unimpressive), the overall treatment is rather clunky. There’s no depth or subtext. And on the whole, its poetic resources are unfulfilling — opting for empty metaphors or adopting an excessively prosaic style that doesn’t achieve any dramatic effect.

Some quotes encapsulate the issue better than any explanation. A group of mourners chant in ostinato, “We are so sad; we’ve lost so many friends”. It’s hardly a powerful line. It doesn’t strike. Nor does it say anything. It doesn’t go beyond the sentiment it so hopelessly tries to convey. One might argue that this is the intention — to just show it as it is, without any ornaments or filters. But making the character express their emotions so facilely doesn’t make the scene more poignant. It just makes it pedestrian.

The sole redeeming feature comes from the cast, most of whom perform with technical brilliance and infectious stamina. Eddie Elliott’s portrayal of Eddie teems with charm, although some pitch issues in his singing are consistently noticeable. The highest praise goes to Tsemaye Bob-Egbe, Idriss Kargbo, and Madeline Appiah for their exceptional comedic timing, commanding presence, and arresting vocals.

It could have been a story of friendship. It could have been a tale of unison. It could have been. Wistfully, most of those chances seem to have gone with the wind rather than been captured and converted into something artistically meaningful, stirring, and galvanising. In the end, this version isn’t too strong a draft to make audiences shiver. And although they might have a blast, they won’t be that moved.

All pictures credit to Tyler Fayose.

The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind plays at London’s Soho Place until 18 July. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara