THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON at the Ambassadors Theatre

★★★★★

“every member of the ensemble cast is a vital cog in the intricate mechanism of this fine piece of theatre”

Five years ago, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” unveiled itself to little fanfare at Southwark Playhouse. Jethro Compton’s and Darren Clarke’s adaptation of F Scott Fitzgerald’s fantastical short story used just five actor-musicians to tell the tale in a chamber music fashion. I described it at the time as ‘a sensational piece of musical theatre’. I was not alone. Acoustic and intimate, the only way for it to go was to grow, until last year it replayed at the larger ‘Elephant’ at Southwark, with more cast, more instruments and much more of a marketing push behind it. I felt it had lost something of the original. Nevertheless, it’s course was pre-determined. As per one of its narrative leitmotifs: ‘Time and tide waits for no man’. It’s West End premiere, bigger and better still, has remarkably, and unquestionably, recaptured the sheer magic and emotional charm of its humble beginnings.

Fitzgerald was inspired to write the story, in 1922, by Mark Twain who lamented the fact that the best part of life came at the beginning and the worst part at the end. Fitzgerald, in an attempt to turn this idea on its head, discovered that youth and old age are mirrors of each other. A witty and insightful satire it tells the story of Benjamin Button who is born an old man and mysteriously begins ageing backwards. At the beginning of his life, he is withered and worn, but as he continues to grow younger, he embraces life, falls in love, goes to war, has children, and eventually, as his mind begins to devolve again, returns to the care of his nurses, and eventual oblivion. It is a fantasy. A dark fairy tale but one that is slightly clinical and lacking in pathos. The genius of this musical adaptation partly lies in how much it is transformed into a heart-wrenching love story. Liberties are taken with the original text, but entirely necessary ones.

We are no longer in the US seaport of Baltimore, but on the Cornish coast. Compton – not content with writing, directing and co-writing the lyrics, is also the creative force behind the set. Evocatively shambolic, it recreates the small fishing village. You can almost smell the salty sea air. With the crash of a wave, we are introduced to the characters that inhabit this backwater with a poetic lyricism that echoes Dylan Thomas; and a musical accompaniment that pulls us right into the heart of the story, stronger than the moon at the highest tide. The folksy, Celtic tunes have a musical theatre veneer but are delivered with sublime energy and virtuosity by the twelve strong cast, layered with Chi-San Howard’s expert and clockwork choreography. Swapping instruments like relay batons, they keep the score alive, guiding it through the haunting ballads right up to the soaring anthems. The thirteenth cast member, who never picks up an instrument (until the encore) stands apart. The oddball. The title character – Benjamin Button. John Dagleish gives us a hangdog and tender portrayal that is also defiant and powerful. We are not long into the show when our hearts are already breaking. Rejected by his mother (beautifully and tragically portrayed by Philippa Hogg) there are shades of Kafka’s ‘Metamorphosis’ as Button is kept in the attic – a shameful secret. Hogg’s rendition of ‘The Kraken’s Lullaby’ leaves a lasting, tearful impression as she echoes the line ‘I pray you won’t wake from your sleep’.

Yet he continues to do so, for the next sixty-nine years. It is a miraculous backwards journey that extends beyond the curiosity of a life running in reverse. Time is a constant refrain, and woven into the fabric of time are the inextricable links, and twists of fate, that snowball into life-changing moments. He meets the important characters in his life twice. Notably ‘Little Jack’ (brilliantly played by Jack Quarton), a young fisherman whom Button befriends but later horrifies when he is young, and Jack is older. But it is Clare Foster’s Elowen who lights up the stage. The love of his life. Sassy and flirtatious in youth, heartbroken yet forgiving in love and vulnerably stoic in her tragic later years, her journey as she and Button travel in opposite directions is a masterstroke. When she sings ‘We have Time’, we can hear the crack of a thousand hearts throughout the auditorium.

Mark Aspinall’s musical direction and orchestration accentuate the dynamics, each crescendo and diminuendo highlighted by Luke Swaffield’s crisp sound design. While Zoe Spurr’s lighting guides us from night, back into day; from the moon to the sun and even into the depths of the sea. Each shade pinpointing each pivotal moment.

Just as every moment counts, every member of the ensemble cast is a vital cog in the intricate mechanism of this fine piece of theatre. The harmonies sweep us away leaving us slightly breathless. Yet the emotional punch doesn’t completely conceal the cleverness of Compton and Clarke’s interpretation. Relocating it to Cornwall is an inspired choice, as is shifting the narrative forward to take in most of the twentieth century. The shifting tides and man’s fascination with the moon play an important role, taking on a metaphorical and literal reality with the 1969 Moon landing. An event that confirms the protagonists’ belief that anything is possible. We get the sense that they don’t quite fully accept that optimism. And most of the time, neither do we. But the battered belief abides. And this show affirms it. From start to finish, it is a triumph. Or is that from finish to start?

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON at the Ambassadors Theatre

Reviewed on 6th November 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Marc Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE ENFIELD HAUNTING | ★½ | January 2024

ROSE | ★★★★ | May 2023

MAD HOUSE | ★★★★★ | June 2022

COCK | ★★★ | March 2022

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON

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★★★★

“The performances are exceptionally strong. Collins is impressive as the loose cannon, unpredictable and unsure of herself.”

Two characters, a world apart, are thrown together in Bess Wohl’s play, “Barcelona”. The cultural divide is as gaping as you can get but our first glimpse of them sees them in an intimate, tongue-wrapping clinch, awkwardly fumbling in the semi-darkness of a plain apartment in Barcelona. As they break away from each other, she is far from tongue tied. Everything is ‘cute’. She has clearly had too much to drink, whereas he has had too much to think about. This is preceded by a burst of ill-fitting, dramatic music which is at odds with the tone of the opening scene. Yet we soon discover the inconsistency is deliberate as Wohl’s clever writing unfolds.

It is a deceptive piece. Seemingly shallow but concealing some dark waters beneath its surface. A surface riddled with metaphors and dramatic ironies once you get the knack of spotting them. Irene (Lily Collins) is an American, washed up in the Spanish city in an extended bachelorette party. Manuel (Álvaro Morte) has come from Madrid to stay in the apartment for reasons that become clear later. It turns out she was the one who picked him up in the bar – a kind of dare almost. Things have gone a bit further than she may have intended, but for now she is more than willing to go with the flow.

We start out not really caring. What is the attraction? Why have they come together? The initial carnal fumbling is sexless, and the reactionless chemistry leaves us cold. She is intensely irritating. He is incessantly irritated. After a particularly leaden faux pas, Irene exclaims ‘I hope I didn’t ruin the ambience’. For a moment we wonder where the ambience is that she is referring to. Yet – as the layers are chipped away, revelations appear bit by bit. Like that game in which another square reveals more of the picture. The more we cotton on, the more we engage. They are no longer caricatures but complex characters; a lack of motive or intention now replaced by twisted backstories that inspire sympathy.

The performances are exceptionally strong. Collins is impressive as the loose cannon, unpredictable and unsure of herself. Her innate paranoia and mistrust run deeper than the Rioja that she is knocking back. Clueless on the outside but clued up enough to sense that something is amiss. Morte gives a startlingly solid performance. Possessing a European no-nonsense savoir faire he appears carefree yet, when left alone for brief moments, his expressions betray a sinister danger. They are both their own wrecking balls and we wait for the self-destruction.

However, neither can quite hide the excesses of the text that, even at a slim ninety minutes, carry a little too much excess weight, while the dialogue could do with a quick work out. Manuel has less to say but perversely he says so much more, which is where Wohl’s writing works wonders as the larger arguments appear out of the subtle magic of small talk. There is a gorgeous moment when Manuel picks apart Irene’s declaration of being ‘proud to be an American’. In a dismissive and heartfelt swoop, Manuel issues a polemic that covers a landscape of imperialism, displacement, ancestry even touching on genocide. The politics that seep into the arguments manage to sit perfectly with the personal; while references to the al-Qaeda terrorist attack in Madrid take on a harrowing emotional quality.

Lynette Linton’s tight direction moves the action neatly from its long night’s journey into day, the passage of time wonderfully evoked by Jai Morjaria’s lighting and haunting use of shadows. As daybreak creeps through the side window, self-knowledge (for Irene at least) dawns with the realisation that maybe she knows nothing. A Socratic paradox that represents a kind of umbrella under which the characters try to shelter from their own conundrums. Outside the apartment window is Barcelona’s famous Basílica de la Sagrada Família. Building began in 1882, but it is still unfinished. It is a fitting metaphor. The play, ultimately, suffers from a lack of resolution. It feels like an episode of a much greater story. An utterly enticing instalment, nonetheless. Another paradox. By curtain call, we feel like we’ve had enough. Yet we are left wanting more.

Tag Archives: Marc Brenner

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON

★★★★★

Ambassadors Theatre

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON at the Ambassadors Theatre

★★★★★

“every member of the ensemble cast is a vital cog in the intricate mechanism of this fine piece of theatre”

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON at the Ambassadors Theatre