You never know when you see something about war how you’re going to turn out in the end. If it’s an American film, for instance, you might feel uplifted full of that Yankee Doodly dum, glory, honour, country and all that. Not this show.
The two young actors, who also wrote this play, carry it along convincingly and well and their skills at shadowgraphy add another very effective dimension to theatre arts which has faded from the repertoire over the years but makes a welcome return in this play.
This is a story without an end. No, it’s two stories, one that’s sad because its protagonist takes a dubious path knowing that with it goes his integrity and the other because the odds are so against success and a life worth living for a young woman who deserves a chance.
A voice sang the first line of a song “Waiting for a train” and so we knew where we were, what she was doing and, without introduction and in the most informal way, Molly Taylor told us her story.
His lyrics need a good lyricist and his music a tune now and again but his enthusiasm is infectious, he’s humorous, engaging – and he knows his Darwin.
I first heard Florence Foster Jenkins one morning on the radio. I was stunned. I couldn’t believe that anyone could sing so badly, have the nerve to be recorded and that a reputable radio station would play it. All was explained when the announcer reminded us that it was April Fool’s Day.
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