A few weeks ago, I sat in a small studio theatre in Berlin delighting
over some outstanding young opera singers performing a grand version of The Tales of Hoffman. Tonight, I sat in
a small studio theatre in Christchurch, New Zealand, watching the pick of that
country’s even younger musical-theatre students giving a rousing performance of
the musical Once on this Island.
I think I am becoming addicted to studio productions. They seem so
often to be much less pretentious, much less glitzy, much better performed …
and directed with so much less of the ‘look-at-me-mummy-arn’t-I-outrageous’ and
so much more truth and style.
Tonight’s was.
Once on this Island is a sweet, almost banal ‘the marquis and
the milkmaid’ piece, which – with its good, sweet, peasant Antillean Islanders
(brown) and its nasty howwid rich colonial French (white) – could very easily
become irritating. You half expect someone to shout ‘bring on the guillotine’.
But the French are portrayed (or were tonight) as so two-dimensional as
to scarcely count, so the distaste is diffused.
And drowned in jolly, loud Carib-flavoured music, played by an
enthusiastic bongo-laced band of four.
The Christchurch production was directed by Angela Johnson and
Stephanie McKellar-Smith, the resident directors of the NASDA (National Academy
for Singing and Dramatic Art), with flair, economy, style and a wonderful
belief in the material … staged as winningly as this, Once on this Island is a natural for a studio theatre or small
group in any part of the world. Well, maybe not France.
It is a piece which, on the evidence of tonight, is custom-made for
young people. To perform, I mean ... although its simplicity and strong rhythms
almost make it a children’s show. The cast of fifteen were evidently enjoying
themselves hugely: and (especially in a small space) that kind of enthusiasm is
irresistible.
It is almost invidious to single out individual performers when an
ensemble production is so neatly and pleasingly done: but the central character
of Ti Moune, the island girl who is the milkmaid of the story, certainly has by
far the largest role. She was very attractively and suitably winsomely played
by the diminutive Rebekah Head, who showed up with a strong singing voice which
made its best effects in the less loud and more feeling passages. Her radiance
in her apotheosis in the tree (a lovely touch, beautifully staged) gave one a
little lump in the throat.
Of the remainder of the cast, the standout for me was Imogen Prossor as
Mama Euralie. While everyone else was singing away lustily in pretty much the
same 21st century chest voice, she gave us a warm, feeling, hugely attractive
contralto (speaking and singing) performance which suddenly flew up to an
unexpected top Z. It was a stunning performance. I couldn’t take my eyes – or
ears – off her.
The other best roles of the show are those which give it its
originality. The Caribbean gods, who meddle with the characters’ lives. Emily
Burns gave Asaka all the allure and power of a supercharged Velma Kelly … a
fine, huge voice, 1000kw performance … I’d like to see her sing a soft ballad
at 500kw. Becky Button as Erzulie was given horrid makeup and the same kind of
vocal material and coped very well … but, you see, everyone has the same kind
of music, everyone sings fortissimo, so they all melt into one, and you
desperately need a Ms Prossor to give some warmth and variety to proceedings.
Among the boys, I noted a touching performance from Olly Humphries as Tonton
Julien, a stylish but occasionally strained Agwe from Zak Enayat, and … poor
Adam Spedding, who I am sure is a very nice lad, had to play the role of the
improbably named Daniel Beauxhomme, the gutless ‘hero’ of the affair. An
impossible task.
I don’t know how this show was originally staged, for I never saw it.
But I can’t imagine it working any better than it did tonight.
Thanks NASDA 2013. I think this rates amongst the best productions I
have seen at the Academy. I look forward to the next.
