bare THE MUSICAL

Here is an American music theatre import, presented by the enterprising StageArt producers, with a cast of attractive, energetic and talented young people – with a few adults thrown in.  Set in a Catholic co-ed boarding school, with the senior students in their final year, the heart of the story is the troubled love affair between sensitive Peter (Adam Di Martino) and popular jock and girls’ heartthrob Jason (Finn Alexander).  It is the ‘love that dare not speak its name’ – at least as far as Jason is concerned.  This central plot strand of forbidden love bounces off the class’s pop production of Romeo and Juliet.  Jason – of course – plays Romeo.  But Ivy (Hannah McInerney) – the class’s ‘pretty’ girl – is Juliet.  Ivy’s put herself about in the past, but her love for Jason is deep and real.  So, Jason has two problems…

The leads are surrounded and supported by their classmates as Chorus and as secondary characters.  Jake Fehily (who sings very well and clearly) is Matt, Ivy’s helpless spurned boyfriend.  Hannah Grondin, a budding comedienne who works the audience a treat, is Nadia, Jason’s sister and the jealous ‘fat girl’ who is also blackly, nastily funny.  Hany Lee is Dianne, also reveals a fine comedic talent.  Tom New, as Lucas, gets one big number and does it extremely well.  Morgan Heynes and Stephanie Marion Wood are mostly chorus but they get a chance to shine as bump and grind angels, supporting a Hot Mama Virgin Mary (Vanessa Menjivar).  David Cuny, Zenya Carmellotti and Jye Cannon make up the chorus; all three confident and assured. 

There are those ‘grown-ups’ as well.  Since the setting is a school, we see the Priest (Quin Kelly), a dark, dogmatic presence, and Sister Chantelle (Vanessa Menjivar again) the kids’ drama teacher.  As nun and Virgin Mary, Ms Mejivar has some great lines, but song lyrics get lost when she pushes too hard.  Mandi Lodge plays the only parent we see, Peter’s mother, Claire.  Ms Lodge begins as a loud mouth cliché ‘Mom’, but with nicely judged development becomes the touching mother who doesn’t want to hear what her beloved son is telling her.

Dan Drieberg’s direction is energetic and slick – his scene transitions, exits and entrances are smooth and economic – and his casting choices are excellent.  Mr Drieberg is also the set designer and achieves a great deal with the towering stained glass window, a contained playing space, two banks of steel lockers and a lot of chairs.  Maddy Seach and Jason Bovaird do a fine job of lighting this small but simple set, giving us night and twilight, dorm rooms, corridors and the confessional, as well as isolating characters and their emotions.  Kirra Sibel, assisted by Lucas Biondo, supplies the rather frenetic choreography, constantly injecting pace and energy - but is there too much of it?  Jodi Hope clearly had a generous budget for her costumes: they are just right and there are a lot of them.  

In short, this is a well-resourced production, with plenty of talent brought to bear on… well, on a show with what seems like an over-familiar story and one that is showing its age.  And one that definitely runs too long.  

The Catholic boarding school setting seems to provide scant restriction on wild parties, drugs and sex.  The influence of religion on the plot is minimal, despite the dominating stained glass window and some angst-ridden songs about it.  In the end, the show’s critique of the Church made via Peter to the unfeeling priest, is simplistic and pat.  The real dilemma is Jason’s terror at being found out and losing his status.

But perhaps the element which crucially weakens this production is the music.  It is relentless and ultimately enervating.  Towards the end, with every burst of introductory percussion, one thinks, ‘Oh, no – not another song.’  Either that, or one is supplying the next line of the rather banal lyrics.  There are thirty-seven songs across the show’s two hours and, in contemporary music theatre style, they all sound much too much the same.  There are few tunes or melodies.  It all verges on recitative with bursts of belting.  This is no reflection on the live musicians – conductor and guitarist Caleb Garfinkel, Stephanie-Jane Lewendon-Lowe and Kellie-Anne Kimber on keyboards, Hamish Knowles on bass and Andrew Rousch on drums – except that they are way too loud, fighting the songs’ lyrics and some poor diction.

Clearly, Hartmere and Intrabartolo want us to be moved.  Sadly, despite the splendid efforts of cast and crew, we are not.  Not really.  Rather we are assaulted and worn down.  It’s so overstated and given to milking its emotions dry.  Does the young audience see themselves in these characters?  Well, they might, were they not bludgeoned into doing so.  The ‘tragic’ ending is contrived and meretricious and the resolution typically sentimental American feel good – lots of forgiveness, reconciliation and hugs. Bare debuted in 2000 and has had many productions since then, in various iterations – but it is rarely performed on commercial main stages.  Rather it appears in independent theatres, schools and universities.  That seems right; ultimately, this ‘cult classic’ is, indeed, a high school musical.

Michael Brindley