A few moments of magic in an otherwise underwhelming production.
Expectations are high for well-known adaptations. Higher still in the grandeur of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane. The recent Death Note concert left manga fans hoping for a repeat of its success with this version of “one of the most popular romantic stories and greatest tearjerkers in manga history”–the tale of Kōsei Arima, a young piano prodigy, and his inability to play following his mother’s death. Unfortunately, the show falls flat.
There are a few things that work well: the plot is as good (if ultimately predictable) as one expects from a seven-million-selling manga; the orchestra are excellent and brilliantly conducted by Chris Poon; and Zheng Xi Yong’s seemingly-genuine piano playing as Kōsei deserved its extended applause and shouts of “bravo!” Rumi Sutton also wows with her beautiful vocals, even if her voice seemed strained towards the end, and Rachel Clare Chan and Dean John-Wilson put in competent performances as side characters Tsubaki and Ryota. Special mention should also be made of Akiko Ishikawa and Chris Ma’s gorgeous and stand-out violin and piano playing, and of little Harrison Lui as Young Kōsei who steals everyone’s hearts upon every arrival.
The other elements of this production are underwhelming. The lyrics are broad and forgettable, as is much of Frank Wildhorn’s music which often sounds like it belongs in a folder of discarded Pasek and Paul numbers. Take a shot every time a character belts in the same way towards the end of a song. The biggest crime is how much this pop score seems to steal from other artists. In the show’s 2 hours runtime, my friend and I were reminded of the bridge in Icona Pop’s I Love It, the chorus of Pink’s Just Give Me a Reason and, most criminally, the titular hook of Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years–yes, the one from the Twilight soundtrack. In fact, this melody serves as the main refrain for a lead character, something one would have hoped the team would have noticed before now.
At other times, it’s the story or song choices that fail to land. The moment towards the end when (spoiler) Kōsei sings out in frustration as we expect Kaori is about to die is confusing, as is the sudden shift in Kōsei’s mother (Joanna Ampil) from stern and unforgiving to tender and nurturing. It’s true Kōsei’s relationship to his memory of her has changed, but the lack of journey means the resolution is forced. Sometimes it’s the song choices that baffle, such as Ryota’s The Beautiful Game where he sings about football (though I’m not convinced the cast or creative team are avid fans) as he chases his scholarship. Many I spoke to were left with the question, “why am I supposed to care?”
If the above reception seems harsh, it’s in part down to the unmet potential of this production. The story of Kōsei’s journey into grief and therefore love through music is a beautiful one and deserves more craft, depth and intricacy: the kind found in Zheng Xi Yong’s piano playing.
There’s something here, but until the show sorts out its problems of generality (and sound mixing) it’s not one I’d recommend. Kōsei can’t hear the music. We can, and I’d prefer if it found its own voice to move me.