“Burton’s brisk direction of the piece highlights Lewis’ striking performance”
In the course of history there has been much written about the role of music and its importance in our lives. Perhaps it is the greatest creation of mankind. The greatest form of expression. Among its countless attributes, most people discover – at some point or other – music to be a way to escape from the pain of life. Jasper Rees, the protagonist of the one-man, semi-autobiographical “I Found My Horn” would certainly, if reluctantly, agree. We meet Jasper as he climbs into the attic of his former home to sort out and pack up the last few pieces of a broken life. The attic (a superbly and evocatively created design by Alex Marker) is a cave of intimate nostalgia and memories. Divorce has driven him here, with a mid-life crisis for a back seat driver.
That all sounds pretty grim, but it is merely a starting point and, in the hands of Jonathan Guy Lewis as the luckless Jasper, the feelgood factor is off the scale during the ensuing eighty minutes of joyous, warm-hearted-theatre. Written by Lewis, with Jasper Rees, it is based on the latter’s book published in 2008. The pair teamed up with director Harry Burton to create the show which opened in London in 2009. Lewis’s character has grown older since then: the text has been slightly altered to accommodate the advancing years, but the sentiment, the meaning and the comedy are as powerful as ever.
Rather than finding the French horn in his attic, it is as though the horn has summoned Jasper. It speaks to him, begging to be freed from its dusty case and given back its purpose. They can help each other out here. It has been thirty-nine years since Jasper last picked it up and now, as he tentatively holds it in his hands, he regales us with the memories it triggers: and the renewed ambition it stirs up. He attends the British Horn Society’s annual concert and decides to play Mozart’s Horn Concerto No3 at the event the following year. He attends a ‘Horn Camp’ in America which simultaneously crushes and ignites his ambition. Meanwhile we are treated to flashbacks to his school days and humiliating moments in the orchestra. Lewis switches hilariously and seamlessly between all the characters that crowd his past and present, adopting mannerisms and accents that are spot-on. He has an astoundingly natural ability to make them heightened yet recognisable and real. Even the French horn itself is given an endearing personality. And, as Jasper, we instantly relate to the man, and to his dreams and regrets.
It is no spoiler to reveal that Jasper achieves his objective and is given a solo slot at the concert. It is his journey there that captivates us. Burton’s brisk direction of the piece highlights Lewis’ striking performance. We effortlessly perceive the complex layers inherent in the writing that in lesser hands might have been muddied. The horn itself is undoubtedly a metaphor – a kind of “Sparky’s Magic Piano” for grown-ups. Ultimately it is a very moving story, not just of making music, but of facing your demons. But it is best not to over analyse. Just revel in the humour and forget the symbolism. It is a joyous and heart-warming performance.
“the energy with which Hartvigsen and Larsen throw into their ever-changing roles is a delight to watch”
Thankfully, for most of us, that whole period of lockdown is becoming a distant memory as life has resumed its normal, pre-pandemic routine. Occasionally we experience flashbacks, during which we might try and mitigate the whole experience by contemplating what good came out of it. It is interesting to look back to see how various people coped and it is heartening to catch glimpses of the positivity that can spring from adversity. As the months ticked by, a group of friends – with a desperate need to laugh – created a radio podcast devised and put together entirely on zoom. Picked up by Ealing Council it subsequently received a grant, was entered into the Summer Festival and eventually became a live, Offest Nominated theatre show at the Camden Fringe this summer.
That group of friends are the madcap, unconventional company “Other Mysteries”. The show is “The Midnight Snack” – an hour-long, whodunnit stage show that reveals its roots as a radio play throughout. There is no set, except for an assorted collection of costume and props used to create the many characters adopted by the three handed cast. Jonah Walsh is Harry, a wannabe crime reporter. In his head he is a Sam Spade character; hard and shifty, and able to get the better of anybody who crosses his path, whether criminal, suspect, victim, innocent or guilty. The reality is somewhat different as Harry spends his days in the darkness of his mother’s basement vicariously living his dream and trying to broadcast it via his podcast, continually interrupted by his meddling mother. Until, that is, a corpse turns up right before the day of the unnamed town’s annual baking competition.
Carolyn Hartvigsen and Mackenzie Larsen play every other character – all suspects under Harry’s over-zealous eye. A rival podcaster, the scatty chef of the eponymous ‘Midnight Snack’ food truck café, the police chief with his sidekick, the amnesiac, the femme fatale and love interest, the mysterious man spotted near the scene of the crime, the decoy the bartender and the mother. Among others. It’s a tall story and a tall order. And one that gets messy – but deliberately so, which is part of the attraction.
The comedy stems from parodying the exaggerated accents and rhythms of true crime dramas. However, that seems to be the one trick they have pulled out of the hat and even in just a short sixty-minute show the magic wears a bit thin. And the rule of three is all too often pushed beyond its limit. Nevertheless, the energy with which Hartvigsen and Larsen throw into their ever-changing roles is a delight to watch and sometimes leaves us as dumbfounded as Walsh’s hapless sleuth. In the end the mystery is solved for him (and us). No investigative skills are needed, but at the same time no real clues are offered. Which is just as well as we have long lost interest amidst the madness.
We may have lost interest in the ‘whodunnit’, but it is the performances, under Candice MacAllister’s slickly eccentric direction, that just about prevent us losing interest in the play itself. It’s perfect for the fringe and the next planned stop for this company is Edinburgh. Let’s hope they get there. The original podcast is still available online, and it will certainly put you in the mood during the journey up there.
