Ambitions achieved by the shining cast of NYMT as they tackle Sondheim’s brilliant flop

Merrily We Roll Along is not an easy show to pull off. The story starts in 1980 and gradually works its way back to 1955, charting a journey from corrupted aspirations back to college optimism. It’s a story about dreams—their allure and their elusiveness, growing up, and how friendships survive. If they do. It’s an ambitious show for the National Youth Music Theatre to attempt; after all, these characters spend most of the time at an age far exceeding that of their actors. And, it’s a Sondheim. Fortunately for us, this production is a sure-fire success.

It’s certainly well-directed by Katherine Hare who handles the challenge of such a huge show, and having such a huge cast, with ease. Excusing some typical first-night happenings—people missing marks by a step or two, occasional delays on cues, infrequent level issues—the sound and lighting are expertly done and the action never feels lacking in flow, keeping the audience’s attention where it’s needed. The music, directed by Leigh Thompson and featuring an incredibly impressive young band, soars. Of course they are helped by Sondheim’s score which isn’t his best, or his worst, but is unavoidably great. Still, it’s hardly Mamma Mia, and this band rise to the challenge.

The actors do a commendable job. Toby Owers does well to capture the conflicted artist in Frank, owning the space whenever he arrives, and Thomas Oxley achieves both the integrity and bubbling frustration of Charley, momentarily stopping the show with his sparky performance of Franklin Shepard, Inc. Completing the leading trio is Madeleine Morgan who puts in an astounding turn as Mary Flynn. She has a lot to do but accomplishes it all, from the beyond-her-years sardonicism to the self-awareness to the gut-wrenching feelings of unrequited love to the (probably much more familiar) beginning tingling of a crush. The three have excellent chemistry and presence and do wonders considering they are nineteen, twenty-one and twenty-one, respectively.

The eternal curse of a reviewer and a word-count is the inability to mention everyone. However, other stand-out roles include: Matilda Shapland as Beth, destroying us first with her heart-shattering Not a Day Goes By (one of Sondheim’s best two songs in the show), and then again with her fragile naivety; Sophie Lagden as Gussie, whose portrayal feels so accurate it’s as if she’s been lifted from the time period itself; and Sam Sayan as Joe, who uses his natural comedic ability to land just the right side of caricature.

The lack of five stars in this review might be mostly down to the reaching ambitions of the material rather than these performers. In fact some of the most moving moments are the ones less tied to the piece’s main device (see: Not A Day Goes By). The biggest obstacle, though, is the obvious one: it’s not easy to play someone who’s decades older than you, or divorced, or lives in a mansion in the era of Warhol and Kurosawa, in New York. There are times the lack of lived experience, or grasping of the world, reveal themselves slightly. Other times, it’s the complexity of the music which rears its head (otherwise handled expertly).

Regardless, it’s an excellent show by a brilliant cast—and that includes all of the energised, shining ensemble, too—which doesn’t feel as long as its running time. It rolls along quite merrily until its beautiful concluding number, Our Time (the second of Sondheim’s best songs in the show). As we approach the two year anniversary of his passing, one thing is for sure: as the ground shifts and edges blur, the torch is in safe hands.