Review by Ian Andrew
Based on the 1891 German play of the same name by Frank Wedekind and winning 8 Tony Awards in 2007, Spring Awakening is one of those rare musicals to have attained something of a cult status - the kind of show that people will claim changed their lives forever.
Exploring heavy themes of teenage sexual awakening in an oppressive adult-run world, sexual and physical abuse, rape, teen pregnancy, abortion, depression and suicide, the show is both engrossing and confronting and will inevitably divide audiences. With a strong cast, superb sound and lighting and updated musical arrangements StageArt's new mounting of the work does not disappoint, delivering a moving and memorable production.
Director Robbie Carmellotti's open-plan set design, comprising three raised platforms interspersed with pillars and decorated in autumnal tones, fills the floorspace of Chapel Off Chapel bringing the performance right up to the audience for a more intimate (and confronting) feel. The angled positioning of the set feels restrictive at times, confining certain key scenes to the back corner of the stage and occasionally forcing cast members to stand with backs noticeably turned to the audience - but these small gripes are outweighed by the way in which cast seem to magically appear and disappear from view thanks to Jason Bouvaird's excellent lighting. Rhiannon Irving's smart costume design firmly establishes the work in its original late 19th century setting.
Under the musical direction of Caleb Garfinkel, the sidestage-band are quite simply exceptional. Fans of the original show will immediately notice Garfinkel's updated arrangements which, at Carmellotti's request, successfully emancipate the score from some of its more anachronistic late-90s orchestrations in favour of a modern, music festival-influenced, indie folk-rock sound that is eminently listenable and certainly no less powerful than the original. Cast vocals and band are well-blended and mixed thanks to Marcello Lo Ricco's sound design and choreography by Zoee Marsh is tight and powerful, with the obligatory high-energy routines effectively offset by unexpected contemporary choreography in the more introspective moments.
The production team have assembled a small, dedicated cast. Ashley Roussety delivers an intense and magnetic performance as the liberal-minded student Melchior Gabor, with a powerful stillness and effortless vocals particularly suited to the stirring numbers 'Left Behind' and 'Those You've Known'. Brent Trotter shines as a believably tormented and pitiable Moritz, his harrowing 'Don't Do Sadness' and ensuing suicide genuinely affecting, though somewhat marred by the bewildering use of a cheap plastic prop gun, complete with bright orange barrel tip, which belied any real sense of danger in the scene.
The rest of the male cast are no less impressive: Jordon Mahar vocally soars as Georg, making a surprisingly memorable number of the often-forgettable 'Touch Me', Henry Brett and Alex Thompson add welcome levity as Hanschen and Ernst respectively, their second-act duet particularly memorable. Nathan Fernandez' makes a noteworthy impression in the somewhat sidelined role of Otto with smooth crooning vocals and Adam Canny as Robert impressively doubles as the pianist throughout.
The female cast is led by Jessie-Lou Yates as an intensely likeable Wendla, a naïve girl in virginAl White coming to terms with her own sexuality and searching for answers. Her frustration at her mother's obfuscation is palpable and these conflicts make for some of her best scenes while others, such as the whipping scene with Melchior, fall strangely flat - perhaps a consequence of the staging. Hannah McInerney is intriguingly ethereal as Ilse, a runaway now living in an artist's colony. McInerney wafts wraithlike in and out of scenes and is a strong and almost threateningly calm presence in the otherwise angsty 'Blue Wind' scene with Moritz and is a haunting in 'The Dark I Know Well', sung powerfully by Luisa Scrofani as the abused Martha.
Grace Browne is intense and commanding as outspoken Thea, but the remaining girls (Alice Batt as Anna, Gabriella Barbagallo as Ina) feel underdeveloped as characters. Rounding off the cast, Olivia Solomons and Barry Mitchell play all of the adult roles, requiring a broad range of clear and rapid character transformations. Some of their characters are necessarily caricatured, but Solomons charms as Melchiors mother Fanny Gabor and Mitchell's portrayal of Moritz' grief-stricken father at the funeral is a devastating highlight of the show.
The decision to have the cast speak in German accents is not entirely successful - while it adds a certain Eurovision-like innocence to the dialogue, accents are jarringly inconsistent across the cast, at times coming off as Swedish or simply American. Early on in the piece, instruments are established as the means by which the repressed teenagers vent their frustration and while this seems initially promising the cast only appear to play sporadically after the first few numbers, and rarely in a meaningful and featured way (with Martha's grungy bass-guitar in 'The Dark I Know Well' being the notable exception.) Like the accents, it comes off as a promising idea only partially realised and the collection of hanging instruments adorning the walls of the theatre ultimately serve as a reminder of how infrequently they are actually used. At the same time Carmellotti deserves a nod for attempting something different - while the innovations above may not have worked as well as planned, others (such as the new orchestrations) were very successful and it is refreshing to see creative risks being taken at a time when replicating Broadway productions is the trend.
These reservations notwithstanding, StageArt's Spring Awakening is a vibrant retelling of this powerful show, with a less angsty, more philosophical feel than anticipated. Whether a first-timer or a longstanding fan of the work, it is well worth the price of admission to be taken on a tumultuous journey by this excellent cast - if only to witness a theatre full of adults awkwardly giggling like children in response to the partial nudity at the end of act one and to realise that the play is just as relevant today as it was when it was written.
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