Review of the Sunday, November 10, 2024 matinee preview performance at the Longacre Theatre in New York City. Starring John Gallagher, Jr., Stark Sands, Wayne Duvall and Adrian Blake Enscoe. Book by John Logan. Music and lyrics by The Avett Brothers. Arrangements and orchestrations by Chris Miller and Brian Usifer. Scenic design by Rachel Hauck. Costume design by Susan Hilferty. Lighting design by Kevin Adams. Sound design by John Shivers. Choreography by David Neumann. Direction by Michael Mayer. 90 minutes with no intermission.
I'm wondering if taking longer to write a review of a show than that show takes to perform is a good thing. Whether or not it is remains to be seen, but it is nonetheless true. You are reading the third version of my thoughts on the new musical, Swept Away, which opened last night. Maybe part of the reason for that is that since I saw it some ten days ago, it hasn't really left my mind, or maybe it is because what I think about it seems to change with the tide. No matter the reason, this show is perplexing and thought-provoking. And that's better than being left cold by it.
Technically, the show is beautiful to look at and listen to. That's no surprise considering the caliber of the design team. A mostly quiet, almost ethereal show, John Shivers' sound design is clear as a bell and appropriately atmospheric, while Susan Hilferty's costumes convey the seriousness of the piece and the harsh realities of 19th Century whalers. Each man in the company has costumes with fully unique details that silently portray their characters, even though we ultimately only get to know four of them.
The real stars of the design team, though, are Kevin Adams (lighting) and Rachel Hauck (scenery). Adams creates a world of bright hope with yellow washes of color and gentle blues in a calm sea, and in stark contrast, a dangerous world of man vs sea, with foreboding greens and sharp blasts of white light, then later, gloomy pools of light and darkness. He never disappoints. Hauck's ship design is stunning, as its sheer size overwhelms and awes, teetering dangerously close to patrons in the first few rows, and later, as it morphs into a tragically sinking ship, settling as an upright monolith of beams and reflections. We are left then with another stark contrast - the large ship has given way to a small, singular life boat. The memory of what was looms large over everything that happens from this moment on.
A study in contrasts, Swept Away is really two short musicals: one a boisterous seafaring spectacle with larger than life characters, who sing, dance and swashbuckle with gusto, the other, a dark character study. David Neumann's boisterous, hyper-masculine choreography is both fun and tragic, as we know the fate of the men who are full of life one minute and gone the next. Similarly, Michael Mayer's direction takes on two opposing themes: a zesty reverence for men whose lives are cut short, and then, a solemn character study of survival, introspection and sacrifice. Mayer deftly portrays both. He gives the entire crew moments to shine, and then bringing the heartbreaking conclusion that even had they lived, their lives were headed toward a crushing end, soon to become obsolete. Were these career whalers perhaps spared a longer death by being taken out of the equation while doing what they loved? As the show settles into a quiet sense of dread, he directs moments of revelation juxtaposed against moments of deafening silence - we contemplate life and death, regret and resignation right along with the four men who are left to their own devices.
In creating this dichotomy, the score, made up of folk-rock songs from a concept album by The Avett Brothers, serves not to really advance the plot, but more so to reveal mood and character. Ultimately, the songs have a sameness about them that is both comforting and repetitive. As the survivors survive, the music becomes less interesting (boring, even), and one wonders if they were trying to mimic the monotony of weeks in a boat with nothing but the waves happening? Still, the music fits the mood, and the lyrics are poetic and revealing.
Then there is the book by John Logan, who seems to be wrestling with bringing these contrasts to full light. On the one hand, the framing device tells you the end before the piece is even three minutes old. On the other hand, it isn't really about the inevitable conclusion, but rather, the journey to that end. As it starts, the scenes are quick with exposition, and we get a clear picture about who the four men are, but then as they are set in their static situation, the characters also become static. Since they can't really move, the action needs to come from the dialogue. Sure, there are flare-ups, and the final twist earned appropriate gasps, but there isn't enough development to generate more than passing interest and a nagging impatience to get to the end promised us in the opening moments. Dare I say, the show might have benefited from some expansion and some trimming?
All of that said, the real reason this musical needs to be seen is its main cast. These four men are each remarkable individually and as a collective whole. Wayne Duvall is Captain, a formidable man set in his ways, and regretting that his way of life has not afforded him a fuller one. His moments on the lifeboat are really wonderfully rendered bits of madness as his survivor's guilt is exacerbated by visions of his men begging to be saved swirling around his semi-consciousness. His cries of remorse are chilling. Broadway newcomer Adrian Blake Enscoe is Little Brother, a young man with love in his heart and an insatiable need for adventure. His exuberance in the opening scenes is completely infectious, and offers a harsh counterpoint to his scenes in the boat, where Little Brother, severely injured, clings to hope and life. Enscoe is definitely an actor to watch for - he has that "it" factor and then some.
In sharp contrast, Big Brother is a God-fearing religious man with an unflinching sense of duty, made all the more significant because the wasn't even supposed to be on the ship. Stark Sands brings this relatively complex character to vibrant life, being fully believable in his piousness and his inspiring love for his brother. It is nice to see him in a dramatic role with chances to show off his many solo talents. The role of Mate is a very complicated one in that he is a man who has lived his life selfishly and with little regard for the consequences of his choices. Played with a fierce bravado, and balanced with moments of desperate uncertainty, John Gallagher Jr. is really pretty magnificent. Beautifully sung and brilliantly acted, I haven't seen him be this good since his Tony-winning turn in Spring Awakening. I just wish he had more to work with.
It is the rare thing to say that a show could benefit from more scenes and songs, but in this case it's true. The stakes need to be higher and the characters need more depth. Maybe the contrasts need to be even sharper, more extreme. Knowing how it turns out even before it starts can actually work for a show - just ask the people behind Titanic. All of that said, even if I wasn't completely swept away, I'm glad I spent some time with four men in a boat.
📸: E. Madrid
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