Wildly mismarketed and fairly unremarkable, Allegra did not inspire joy
In theatre, any show has to find a way to stand out. We’re fortunate to live in a world with an abundance of different kinds of theatre and performance, and while taste is subjective, standing out is unquestionably important and, for smaller productions, vital. Quite simply, Allegra failed to do so.
Anyone who read the show’s description beforehand could be forgiven for expecting a musical, given that Allegra is described as bursting into song wherever she goes. Instead, this feels like a misleading hook designed to draw audiences in. Not only is it not a musical — and, frankly, can barely even be considered a comedy — there is a distinct lack of any real singing throughout. In fact, it is not until 37 minutes into the production that a full musical number appears, and by then it hardly feels rewarding. There are earlier moments of murmured lyrics and half-songs sung without accompaniment, but these are fleeting and, in truth, not especially compelling, particularly as the singing itself is not what one might call professional.
There is also little to say about the narrative, because it is practically non-existent. That same description, however misleading, more or less sums up the entire script: Allegra is an older woman living alone who likes to sing wherever she goes, sometimes causing disturbances. Her brother Ronen and carer Anna attempt to manage her eccentricities, and the description asks whether they can do so without “destroying the great happiness that fills Allegra’s heart”. The answer is no — and they should not have to. Yet it takes two acts for the production to arrive at this rather simple conclusion, by which point it has drifted so far from any recognisable reality that the journey feels both baffling and frustrating.
A few ideas are introduced but never developed. Allegra has been prescribed pills, which she misplaces and neglects to take, allegedly to quiet her mind and prevent her from bursting into song in any circumstance — circumstances we never actually see, as most take place offstage, conveniently avoiding the singing in a production about a woman who always sings. The entire structure feels oddly evasive. The first act in particular goes nowhere, with almost every idea it introduces left unrealised.
Anna’s arrival as Allegra’s carer is positioned as the main event of Act One. A conversation between Ronen and Allegra, in which she insists she likes living alone and is perfectly happy, seems to suggest an exploration of her independence or perhaps the possibility of a meaningful bond developing between Allegra and Anna. Neither materialises. Allegra largely accepts Anna’s presence without resistance, and while the two get on well enough, there is little in either the script or the narrative to suggest a genuinely deepening relationship. This is partly due to the nonchalant way Allegra is written, but it leaves the emotional core of the play feeling thin.
The play also repeatedly suggests that many of Allegra’s songs and musical numbers exist only in her head. Later, after she is taken to court for the disturbances she causes and is forcibly prescribed stronger medication by a judge — a development that might have been interesting had it not been so ludicrous — the music in her head disappears. This could have opened up a more nuanced exploration of illness, perception, or the line between reality and fantasy, but those threads never become anything. Even the medication storyline feels as though it risks veering into offensive territory if read through the lens of mental health, yet the play is too underdeveloped to engage meaningfully with that either.
Overall, this production felt not only lacklustre and unstimulating, but fundamentally unsure of what it wanted to say, or whether it had a plot at all. The acting could not save it, and it is difficult to recommend Allegra to anyone — except perhaps as something to avoid.
Allegra is on tour, currently in Glasgow until 27th June. Tickets here.