Tag Archives: Shoko Ito

BRIGADOON

★★★★

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

BRIGADOON

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

★★★★

“The music and dance are the highlights, stylishly adding extra layers of the story onto the dialogue”

Lerner and Loewe’s “Brigadoon” hasn’t been performed in London for over thirty-five years, and the word, from some quarters, seems to be that there must be a reason for this. In short, though, Drew McOnie’s magical interpretation at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre is a strong counterargument as to why it is definitely high time for a revival. Adapted and (kind of) updated by Rona Munro it almost makes sense of its impossibly whimsical narrative but, and goes along with it, creating an enchanting mix of music, dance and drama. We are swept up into the fantasy of it all, which in itself is quite a feat. It is the sort of plot that, if closely analysed, the holes picked in it would cause it to collapse completely.

The echoing sound of a big drum kicks off the evening, followed by haunting bagpipes. Basia Bińkowska’s multi-levelled, lush and heather-wrapped set merges into the park’s natural background. Two American fighter pilots appear over the brow of the hill. The romantically inclined Tommy (Louis Gaunt) is wounded while the more down-to-earth Jeff (Cavan Clarke) is rather unsuccessfully trying to get their bearings. They have literally dropped out of the sky and according to their map they appear to be nowhere. From this ‘nowhere’, however, the village of Brigadoon appears out of… well… nowhere. We have no alternate but to suspend our disbelief – the effect is quite intoxicating as we are surrounded by the glorious harmonies of the villagers. McOnie’s choreography is beautifully balletic, yet it somehow belongs to the world of Scottish reels and bagpipes too.

Brigadoon only exists for one day every one hundred years, thanks to a divine spell cast by the local minister two hundred years previously to protect it from the outside world. The townsfolk are forbidden to leave, otherwise the village would disappear forever. An outsider can only stay if they fall in love with a local, so strongly enough that they are prepared to give up everything for their love; ‘…after all, laddie, if ye love someone deeply, anythin’ is possible!’. The pilots spend pretty much all of act one unaware of this phenomenon, but when they discover it, have quite different reactions. This is very much a fairy tale, but also a love story burning away at its heart, with enough shades of darkness to prevent it from being too honey dewed.

The music and dance are the highlights, stylishly adding extra layers of the story onto the dialogue. Occasionally the movement is extraneous but always spectacular, held together by musical director Laura Bangay’s twelve-piece orchestra that mixes the traditional with the contemporary. The ensemble is just as vital as the lead players who generously never pull focus from the energy that floods the stage. Gaunt’s performance is quite believable (even if his story isn’t) in his depiction of an unwavering belief in love, that is also prone to moments of self-doubt, while Clarke’s pragmatic Jeff challenges but also accommodates his co-pilots idiosyncrasies, culminating in a deeply moving finale. The excellent Georgina Onuorah gives intensity and grace to Tommy’s love interest Fiona, while Nic Myers’ flirty Meg teases with, and confuses, Jeff with uncertain sex appeal. Jasmine Jules Andrews and Gilli Jones, as the newlyweds Jean and Charlie, are an enchanting couple. Danny Nattrass, as the tragic, lovesick Harry, matches an agile personality with a true talent for dance. Like the entire cast, the movement clearly defines the emotions and intentions of the characters.

All set against Jessica Hung Han Yun’s mystically atmospheric lighting, the evening is a delight throughout. The sumptuous score is at once familiar, yet fresh, with favourites such as ‘Almost Like Being in Love’, ‘The Love of My Life’ and ‘There but for You Go I’ sealing the message. It is a glorious tribute to the power of love. Like the unwitting co-pilots who wander into Brigadoon, we cannot fail to be moved and entertained by this production. It is unashamed escapism, but once we’re hooked, we don’t want to escape it.

 



BRIGADOON

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

Reviewed on 12th August 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Senior

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

NOUGHTS AND CROSSES | ★★★ | July 2025
SHUCKED | ★★★★★ | May 2025
FIDDLER ON THE ROOF | ★★★★★ | August 2024
THE SECRET GARDEN | ★★★ | June 2024
THE ENORMOUS CROCODILE | ★★★★ | May 2024
TWELFTH NIGHT | ★★★★★ | May 2024
LA CAGE AUX FOLLES | ★★★★★ | August 2023
ROBIN HOOD: THE LEGEND. RE-WRITTEN | ★★ | June 2023
ONCE ON THIS ISLAND | ★★★★ | May 2023
LEGALLY BLONDE | ★★★ | May 2022

 

 

BRIGADOON

BRIGADOON

BRIGADOON</h3

The Garden of Words

★★★

Park Theatre

THE GARDEN OF WORDS at the Park Theatre

★★★

The Garden of Words

“There are fine moments of humour amidst the stylisation in director Alexandra Rutter’s production”

 

It is a brave undertaking to lure London audiences into the theatre this summer with the promise of a show that features an awful lot of rain. It is also a brave undertaking to adapt a Makoto Shinkai film. Shinkai – animator, filmmaker, author and graphic artist – is responsible for some of the highest-grossing Japanese films of all time with his idiosyncratic and recognisable animations. But both are challenges that ‘Whole Hog Theatre’, specialists in Anglo-Japanese theatre, are not shying away from with the premier of “The Garden of Words”.

It focuses on Takao Akizuki (Hiroki Berrecloth), an aspiring teenage shoemaker and Yukari Yukino (Aki Nakagawa), a mysterious older woman he keeps meeting in the public gardens of Shinjuku City. It is the rainy season, beautifully evoked by the video projections, lighting, sound and stylised movement of the actors. There are echoes of Jacques Demy (it could almost be dubbed ‘The Umbrellas of Tokyo’), and traces of David Lean’s ‘Brief Encounter’ when the couple meet – courtesy of Mark Choi’s soaring piano soundtrack. But the overall sensation is of being drawn into a Japanese ‘anime’ art film. The merging of styles creates a profoundly hypnotic atmosphere, but one that clouds the emotional connection we would have liked to have had with these characters.

It is a simple, soft love story that subtly touches on the taboo. Takao is still a teenager while Yukari is a teacher from his school. Although their meetings are accidental and innocent. At least initially. They only meet when it rains. A literal and metaphoric ingredient for the blossoming of their friendship. They are both isolated in their own way. Back home, Takao’s divorced mother (a bubbling and eccentric Susan Momoko Hingley) is more concerned with her love life than her family, while his brother (James Bradwell) is fleeing the nest in pursuit of actress girlfriend Rika (Iniki Mariano). Like Takao, Yukari is also skipping school, having been hounded by false accusations from her students, the prime culprit being Shoko (a very watchable Shoko Aizawa). Trying to appease all parties is gym teacher Soichiro (Mark Takeshi Ota).

There are fine moments of humour amidst the stylisation in director Alexandra Rutter’s production (who co-adapted with Susan Momoko Hingley). But also, some superfluous moments of repeated movement that, although eye-catching, could be pruned. In the first act it occasionally loses its balance, like riding a bicycle too slowly. In contrast, the second act rushes to its epilogue as if an afterthought, and the interval was an unscheduled mistake. The enchantment would have kept its flavour better if concentrated in a one act performance. Otherwise, the essence of the anime art form remains as true as it can be. It recognises its limitations, and doesn’t try to overstep the small-scale setting with its vivid, slightly surreal and delicate combination of creative expertise.

KENNY’s video graphic projections work hand in hand with Cindy Lin’s set. The Japanese Garden almost origami like, comprising fringes of paper that depict both the city’s skyline and the weeping leaves of the trees. In turn they become the rain, then the tears of these lost souls who “feel they may die from the agony of love”: one of many quotations projected overhead. Passages from ‘The Man’yōshū’, a compilation of Classical Japanese poetry from the eighth century, are a recurring motif that informs the narrative, and assists the audience. Like the rain.

In fact, the rain is quite relentless. A leitmotif that adopts many shades and meanings. In the world that these characters inhabit, rain is something that people who suffer from social isolation can prefer more than the sun. “The Garden of Words” exposes the fragility of emotions born of loneliness and longing, yet just falls short of gripping the heart. The other senses are left basking in the downpour though. It is a treat to watch, even if we don’t quite connect. It is an apt synchronicity that while the characters onstage are ‘praying for the rain’, we most certainly aren’t. Especially this summer.

 


THE GARDEN OF WORDS at the Park Theatre

Reviewed on 15th August 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Piers Foley


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Bones | ★★★★ | July 2023
Paper Cut | ★★½ | June 2023
Leaves of Glass | ★★★★ | May 2023
Winner’s Curse | ★★★★ | February 2023
The Beach House | ★★★ | February 2023
The Elephant Song | ★★★★ | January 2023
Rumpelstiltskin | ★★★★★ | December 2022
Wickies | ★★★ | December 2022
Pickle | ★★★ | November 2022
A Single Man | ★★★★ | October 2022

The Garden of Words

The Garden of Words

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