Sunday, June 2, 2013

MUSICAL THEATRE REVIEW: TOMMY



JOHN COULBOURN,Special to LFPress
31 MAY 2013
R: 4.5/5

STRATFORD - In the Stratford Festival’s all-new production of TOMMY, Robert Markus may play the title role, but he is not the star of the show — anymore than Jeremy Kushnier, Paul Nolan, Steve Ross or any other member of the hard-working cast. In revisiting his 1993 stage treatment of The Who’s 1969 rock opera, director Des McAnuff (who also collaborated with composer lyricist Pete Townshend on TOMMY’s book) shows those who suggest he’s a slave to the latest in modern theatrical technology his middle Cana-digit and makes technology star of his show.

From a purely technical point of view, his new TOMMY is to his Tony-winning 1993 version what a modern Mustang is to a Model A Ford. From the tsunami of sound that launches the show to the final curtain, McAnuff and a team led by designer John Arnone, never miss an opportunity to up the technical ante, filling Avon Theatre’s stage with such an impressive, dizzying array of video effects and technical wizardry that local drugstores will be doing a brisk trade in motion sickness medication — and yes, that’s a warning.

This may be a simple (or at least simplistic) tale — a young boy retreats into an autistic state after he watches his father (the always-watchable Kushnier) murder his mother’s lover, and then endures abuse from his alcoholic uncle (Ross) and his rocker cousin (Nolan, putting JC Superstar far behind him), before finally finding redemption through his skills as a pinball player — but there is nothing simple in its staging.

McAnuff conspires with designer Arnone and choreographer Wayne Cilento to create a live show that’s equal parts rock video and colour drenched roller-coaster ride — all action, all the time. Impressively, in the face of this all out technical barrage, McAnuff has been able to recruit a cast more than capable of holding its own in this battle of men and machines.

As Tommy restored, Markus may lack a bit of lithe grace, and certainly, as Tommy’s long-suffering mother, the exotically beautiful Kira Guloien should have been encouraged to dig deeper than her admittedly impressive cheekbones, but in the main, this fine cast stands up impressively against to the technical barrage their director unleashes against them.

But while the production is often thunderously thrilling — Has McAnuff turned down the volume or are we simply now accustomed to music so loud it turns the rib-cage into a tuning fork? — one leaves the theatre with Shakespeare’s view of life as a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing, ringing in one’s ears. TOMMY’s plaintive “See me, feel me, touch me, heal me,” is still deeply affecting — and thanks to McAnuff’s technological obsession, we can see him and hear him more clearly than ever before as he makes his way to healing. Sadly, that same technology conspires to keeps him from touching us on any human level — and that’s what theatre is all about finally.

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