The book turned film turned musical is back in London – and mostly succeeds.
It’s 1941, a couple of months before the Attack on Pearl Harbor, and G Company are stationed at the Schofield Barracks in Hawaii. It’s no surprise that James Jones’s original 1951 novel was heavily censored by his publisher – it’s a story about power, masculinity, gay men in the army, sanctioned bullying, and the effects of war. So the ingredients are all there, and this production at the Charing Cross Theatre does a fine job, but there’s something that stops the show from flying high.
It’s certainly not the talent of the actors, who do a great job holding our attention and belting out Stuart Brayson’s rock-y tunes. Despite being a man-heavy musical, it’s the women who steal this show; Carley Stenson impresses from the off as the long-suffering (and affair-having) Mrs Holmes, taking a familiar trope and making it three-dimensional with her grounded performance. Eve Polycarpou as the Brothel Madam Mrs Kipfer takes on another classic archetype—the Mama Morton or Engineer of the piece—and her powerhouse performance immediately has the audience laughing at how effortlessly she controls her world, and sure that they shouldn’t get on her bad side.
Which isn’t to say the men are lacking. Jonathon Bentley as Prewitt delivers a strong central performance and belts his moments with skill and a beautiful tone; Adam Rhys-Charles’ Warden draws us in with his Elvis-esque timbre and portrayal of a man struggling with the decisions of those above him; and Jonny Amies dazzles as the Italian-American Maggio, his wit and spark lighting up the stage on his arrival and leaving it dimmer with his final, heart-wrenching exit.
The show runs well. It’s an efficient use of the Charing Cross space and Brett Smock’s direction, alongside Cressida Carré’s tightly-rehearsed choreography, plays well to all sides and keeps the piece flowing between scenes. Stewart J. Charlesworth’s set does what it needs to, with a short, square stage of two concrete slabs dotted with palm trees (we’re in Hawaii, after all). Adam King’s lighting design is efficient and effective, and the use of protection is a smart way to add energy and context to the piece.
Ultimately, the issue is in the show’s story. More specifically, the book. Tim Rice’s lyrics are excellent as always, and Stuart Brayson’s music is good (if slightly uninspired at times), but the book is formulaic and feels like an old 1950s movie. That isn’t a surprise given the material but it is a shame, and ends up limiting the impact of the story. The choice to push the romantic elements to the front is understandable but it’s not the thing we care about—we care about the effects of war and toxic masculinity on these men, especially given their impending fate.
As the audience exit, the show projects the names of those lost onto the stage. It’s a powerful choice, but one that might go missed and which doesn’t feel like it’s given the weight it needs. An unrealised potential that perhaps sums up the show.