“Although an accomplished production with crisp direction from Marc Robin, this musical doesn’t quite have the voltage needed to bring it to life“
They often say that truth is stranger than fiction, and the real-life story on which “It Happened in Key West” is based seems to be no exception. Lifted from the 1940s newspaper headlines, the story begins with Count Carl von Cosel (Wade McCollum) being shipwrecked on the small island in the Straits of Florida. A brilliant, yet arrogant German scientist, he immediately lands a job as an X-ray technician at the local hospital. It is here that he finds his true love; local girl, Elena (Alyssa Martyn), who is the woman of his dreams that he has been searching for since childhood.
What ensues is, on paper, quite absurd. The Count, a ridiculous Pollyanna, overcomes with ingenuous ease two pretty large obstacles that stand in the way of his future happiness with Elena – what is strange, though, is that her happiness is never a consideration. Firstly, she is married, though that minor inconvenience is brushed away quite swiftly. The second is a bit tougher. She has tuberculosis – a death-sentence at the time. Though Carl does his best to save her life, she succumbs to her illness, but not before entrusting Carl with caring for her body in death. This responsibility is taken to its extreme, which is what gives flesh to the bones of the story – although it has, by now, taken over half the performance to reach this point.
Carl’s own journal is the source of what happens over the next seven years of bizarrely blissful matrimony, living in his cottage on the beach while he dotes over his slowly decomposing bride. Yet Jill Santoriello, who wrote the book, lyrics and music, seems to stifle the ‘stranger-than-fiction’ material, burying its comic potential in a mausoleum of mawkishness. I would so love to see this in the hands of a duo like Tim Burton and Danny Elfman. I realise that this might be an unfair and possibly irrelevant aspiration, but the audience could be forgiven for expecting some sort of nod in this direction. It is a macabre and quirky tale: and potentially hard to swallow – but too many spoonfuls of sugar make this adaptation too easy.
McCollum is the stand out performer, sometimes letting a touchingly legato loneliness show through the cracks in his scientifically manic obsession with the dead Elena. And with a twinkle in his eye he adds a much-needed extra dimension to the show, whilst his rich baritone fills the auditorium. But he is very much out there on his own, his optimism matching that of his character’s.
The life and death of Carl von Cosel is a fascinating story, begging to be told in this particular art form of musical theatre; where fantasy and reality collide. Although an accomplished production with crisp direction from Marc Robin, this musical doesn’t quite have the voltage needed to bring it to life. And despite some strong ensemble voices the music is at odds with the text. Overladen with power ballads, the score cruises along nicely enough, but without even the slightest oddity in the narrative steering it away from the middle of the road.
“Southerland’s presentation remains faithful to the original while adding a few eccentric touches of his own that enhance the narrative”
You know the comedy is going to be black when the play opens with the young lead placing a noose around his neck and hanging himself. His mother’s reaction to finding him suspended is shockingly hilarious, and I imagine more so if you are not already familiar with the original seventies cult film.
Incorporating dark humour and existential drama, “Harold and Maude” revolves around the relationship between the young, morbid Harold and the carefree, septuagenarian Maude whose outlook on life takes quirkiness to a whole new level. Through Maude’s influence, Harold loses his obsession with death and embraces life.
Written by the late Colin Higgins, who also wrote the screenplay in the early seventies, Thom Southerland’s presentation remains faithful to the original while adding a few eccentric touches of his own that enhance the narrative, steering it well clear of whimsicality. There are shades of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s “Amelie” in Southerland’s direction and, with Francis O’Connor’s primary coloured set, the surrealism is set in stone, giving us license to enjoy and find humour in the characters’ psychotic tendencies.
Sheila Hancock is charismatic, effervescent and totally mischievous as Maude. She sweeps the audience along in the wake of her comically carefree truisms, yet, in the later scenes hints at a sadness that simmers just below the surface. The energy of her onstage presence would shame many an actor half her age. Except Bill Milner, of course, who has the unenviable task of winning over the audience as Harold. But he does this with ease, convincingly portraying his journey from morose alienation towards self-realisation. It is a touching performance and consequently we find that his fondness for a woman sixty years his senior does not seem unhealthy. The attraction is romantic, yes, but not physical which heightens the tenderness. “The main thing in life is not to be afraid to be human” Maude tells him. Disarmingly she follows this up with the assertion that “over time clichés become profundities, and vice versa”. It is this self-deprecation in the writing that thwarts any accusations of mawkishness.
But the two leads do not monopolise the show. The ensemble cast, who rarely leave the stage throughout the evening, all add sparkle. Rebecca Caine is tremendous as Harold’s domineering mother who has decided that it is time for him to get married. Enrolling him into a dating agency gives extra comedy mileage when we are introduced to Harold’s prospective dates – all played with show-stealing versatility by Joanna Hickman.
The icing on the cake is the live music, scored by Michael Bruce. When not directly involved in the scenes the actors are underscoring the dialogue or deftly linking the scenes; on clarinet, cello, double bass, piano, accordion, guitar and banjo. There is a wonderful moment, too, when the cello replicates the manic voice on the other end of a telephone line. It’s these little touches that add to the magic, such as costume designer Jonathan Lipman’s decision to dress Harold and his shrink in identical jacket and tie.
The humour is matched by the compassion. In the second act when it shifts from surrealism to realism the final dialogue between Harold and Maude is both moving and life affirming. The resounding message is exemplified by Maude’s provoking question: “Are you going to do it or are you only going to hear about it second hand?”
Exactly!
I’d urge you to see this production. Don’t be content with just hearing about it second hand.
