Catchy pop tunes only reach shallow depths in this show which misses its target
Fly More Than You Fall is a story of loss, of strength, and of the power of stories. While the show doesn’t necessarily flop, it certainly struggles to fly.
Let’s get the good stuff out of the way as the show has its fair share of it. Keala Settle shines as Jennifer, the mother whose illness rocks the overly-positive world of the show. Settle is an accomplished performer (you don’t need me to tell you that) with an astounding voice, who beautifully embodies her character–and often adds more depth than the show might otherwise provide. Robyn Rose-Li also puts in a fantastic turn as Malia, our wide-eyed protagonist, with a great voice and bubbling energy; these two are a lot of the reason the show stays in the air.
Stand-outs from the rest of the ensemble include Max Gill as Caleb who deserves more stage time from their iconic vibes alone, and Gavin Cornwall for his more conflicted moments as Malia’s struggling father.
But how does it sound? Catchy, for a start. Nat Zegree’s music is bouncy and earworm-y (to coin an adjective) and clearly inspired by pop artists and more contemporary musical theatre writers. Read: Pasek & Paul. However, one gets the feeling that the incessant bounciness leaves money on the table and greater depths to be plumbed. The show seems uncomfortable sitting in the darker moments, meaning we stay mostly in the light. This might be fine in the kind of YA novel that Malia wants to write, but less so for the adult audience in the Southwark Elephant.
This is the main issue the show is grappling with: where does it fit in? Eric Holmes’ book has moments of probing depth and observation but is mostly content to remain in the land of the cartoon, with the swearing feeling the same kind of gratuitous as it does in a TV show like Only Murders in the Building, or as jarring as it would in Bluey. There’s a paint-by-numbers feel, with characters singing and saying almost exactly what you would expect them to. At worst, it’s cringey. At best, it’s boring.
As someone who has experience of profound loss, I left the theatre disappointed that the creative team didn’t seem more interested in digging deeper in order to fly higher. Not all shows need to do this, of course, but sometimes it’s as if a theatrical production is relying on the power of its story alone to do the heavy lifting. The problem is that it’s alive in front of us, and so the facts alone won’t cut it.
No one can argue this isn’t a feel-good show. I just think audiences are wanting to feel more.