Space@Surgeon’s Hall | Bouquets & Brickbats

20/08/23

theSpace @ Surgeon’s Hall (Theatre 1), Edinburgh

If I were ever asked to compile a list of subjects unsuitable for musical adaptation – it’s an unlikely occurrence, but bear with me – the story of John McCarthy and Jill Morrell would probably figure fairly prominently.

McCarthy is the British journalist, who in 1986 was kidnapped in Lebanon and spent over five years in captivity, being systematically beaten and interrogated – hardly the stuff of song and dance. Meanwhile, back in England, his fiancée and fellow-journalist, Morrell, tirelessly campaigned to keep his name and his predicament in the public eye. And although (spoiler alert!) McCarthy was eventually released and returned safely to his homeland, the couple didn’t have anything resembling the traditional happy ending.

When we first meet John (Benedict Powell) and Jill (Claire Russell) they are on the London Underground. As the music swells and Russell readies herself to launch into the opening song, Powell actually expresses incredulity. “This is going to be a musical?” he cries. And if I’m honest, I’m of the same mind.

But my reservations are quickly swept aside as soon as they’re a few bars into one of Adrian Kimberlin’s lovely, melodic ballads. Both Powell and Russell are gifted vocalists, especially when their plaintive voices are joined together in harmony. The script (also by Kimberlin) is clever enough to occasionally remind us of the artificiality of the piece, and this meta-theatricality provides a useful touchstone.

Most interestingly, the section that deals with the aftermath of the kidnapping – John’s ongoing struggle to reclaim some kind of normal existence after the living hell he’s been through – yields some of the most poignant moments. And Jill gets her chance to shine too. I particularly love the ballad where she insists that she will not be dismissed as ‘the woman who waits’, that she has a life and an identity of her own. I have to confess to tearing up a little during that song.

After This Plane Has Landed is a sweet and engaging musical, based around a turbulent few years in the relationship of two real people. Against all my expectations, it makes for a very entertaining hour – and I’ve just had to cross two names off that imaginary list.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

14/08/23

theSpace @ Surgeons Hall (Grand Theatre), Edinburgh

Ima Collab is a young theatre collective from Hong Kong, and their spirited version of Candide opens this week in the Space @ Surgeon’s Hall. Condensing Voltaire’s sprawling epic into a forty-minute slice of theatre is a tall order, but the fourteen-strong cast give it their all, and the result is both energetic and entertaining.

Like his C18th contemporaries Tom Jones and Gulliver, the eponymous Candide is an ingénue, whose epic journey from innocence to experience spans many decades and several distinct acts. His idyllic youth in a Baron’s castle, under the tutelage of renowned optimist Pangloss, comes to an abrupt end when he is caught kissing the Baron’s daughter, Cunégonde. Cast out, he endures a series of hardships: he is forced into joining the Bulgarian army, for example, and also survives both a shipwreck and an earthquake. Along the way, he is repeatedly reunited with and then parted from Cunégonde, until at last they marry and live unhappily ever after. (I think it’s okay to give spoilers to a three-hundred-year-old story.)

In this production, the tale is narrated to an eager group of travellers, keen to know why one of their number is obsessed with Voltaire’s novel. The contents of their suitcases are pressed into use as props, and the fourth wall is continually broken, as the cast ask questions of the audience, and issue demands to one another (“Can you make me a boat, please?”).

This breathless retelling is vibrant, and the cast are very engaging. There are a lot of jokes, most of which land well, although I’m not so keen on the fat-phobic jibe at the aged Cunégonde, who, played for the most part by one actor, is briefly replaced by a perfectly lovely-looking larger one – a move clearly intended to suggest that she is less desirable than she used to be.

The direction is imaginative and, if the ensemble movement sections sometimes lack precision, they are always enthusiastically performed.

An ambitious and diverting piece of theatre, Candide is certainly a lot of fun.

3.4 stars

Susan Singfield