Splann: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button: The Musical @ Ambassadors Theatre, London
It’s Celtic, it’s Cornish, it’s not like the movie. It’s delightful, compelling, engrossing, timey-wimey and psychological, and features Jethro Compton’s and Darren Clark’s beautiful, beautiful songs and beguiling music.
We follow Mr Button as he treks, proud father-to-be through the harbour-side Cornish village encountering various characters along the way. Time is of the essence here as lots of ‘what if?’ moments interact, creating powerful ripple effects. Such as the discovery of your sister in your bed with your husband!
Here, the Buttons can’t accept Benjamin for who he is and force him to hide upstairs, claiming that their baby son died at birth, adding his name to a tombstone. Mr Button even blames his son for his mother’s death. Instead, Benjamin’s a charmingly tired old man, who (as he de-ages) gets increasingly desperate for a pint and human company.
Down the pub, he meets the love of his life and then misses her as they both leave the village for epic adventures. Drawing in World War Two, Benjamin finally finds acceptance and a friend on board a fishing trawler — and then in the Navy. It’s at a naval dance that Benjamin finally reunites with the woman of his dreams again, and they’re able to marry, raise a family, be. Mr Button turns up threatening Benjamin with retribution and disaster, refusing to acknowledge his achievements and the fine man he’s become, or even meet his grandchildren. Rather than Mr Button’s monstrous mutterings, it’s a terrible accident which forces this Benjamin out to sea and around the world. And not what you think if you’ve seen the film.
Now very young, Benjamin’s uniqueness continues to cause his issues as his old friend rejects him, refusing to conceive that Benjamin could be the same friend, the same man. His misery keeps him moving on. It’s only when he returns to his family that he finds peace and a place to be himself — and love. There’s also so much here about palliative care for elders as Benjamin creatively ages/de-ages to babyhood and yet, despite not remembering or recognising anyone or anything, is still cherished, loved and cared for as a person.
Whilst I wish there was a bit more dancing (there’s some cloggy tap and stamping), the music is thrilling as all the cast sing, play an instrument and keep in character. The costumes are a bit off — decidedly shabby chic and not really of any era, especially the women’s hairstyles. The men have more defined costumes, hair, hats and styling which gives a much stronger sense of period and changing decades. When I saw the production, I saw Jonathan Charles in the role of Benjamin, and he sported a splendid moustache giving a wonderful sense of era when he found the bowler hat he was born with!
However, what the production does brilliantly is mythic — drawing us in with story-telling, sea shanties and songs — as we follow Benjamin tenderly through life. The songs are wonderful, driving the narrative forward, poignantly directed and arranged by Mark Aspinall. Truly, there’s nothing finer than singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ in a theatre on New Year’s Eve with such a wonderful cast. I like that it didn’t try to be the film, but has created something entirely different. I’m not sure about the Cornish accents — it all veers towards the Archers sometimes. However, forget the sometimes dubious accents and the dodgy costumes, for the singing’s the thing. It’s entirely engaging in its book and lyrics, the musical skills on display and the seagully harbour. Whilst the threatened Kraken never wakes, Clash of the Titans-style, the sense of dread is maintained mixed with the charming sweetness of romance, love and family building. Enjoy too the family building in the ensemble — it’s impressive and stirring to see such a supportive cast on stage, together. And the passing of time as the musical draws on real events in Cornwall.
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