What: The Mystery of Edwin Drood
Where: Langham Court Theatre
When: To March 21
Rating: Four out of five
One thing I admire about the Langham Court Theatre crowd — they never lack for ambition.
Their latest venture, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, is a big, sprawling, surprisingly complex musical. It requires 21 performers (22 if you include Roxie the dog’s cameo). Everyone’s shoe-horned onto the small stage of Langham Court Theatre, a former carriage house in the Rockland district.
Directed by Roger Carr, a platoon of singer-actor-dancers toiled valiantly on Wednesday night and mostly succeeded. The 21Ú2-hour musical is an entertaining dog’s breakfast that demands much. On this particular evening (a preview performance) the show was 90 per cent there, and no doubt will coalesce fully as the run progresses.
Again, it’s admirable. If most community theatre troupes are the equivalent of Sunday joggers, Langham Court is tackling a marathon, if not an iron-man workout.
Some of the songs — with such titles as Murder’s Confession and Out on a Limerick — are a tricky sing. This Tony-winning 1985 musical was created by Rupert Holmes (he of The Pina Colada Song). The tunes are a pastiche of pop and old-time music hall with operatic and art-song flourishes.
The premise is that the show is a tongue-in-cheek completion of a real-life unfinished novel by Charles Dickens. It’s the tale of opium-puffing choir director John Jasper (Montgomery Bjornson) who falls for Rosa Bud (Cati Landry), who’s the fiancée of Edwin Drood (cross-gender casting, so played by Heather Jarvie-Laidlaw). However, it turns out the engagement is a loveless union, arranged long ago by the couple’s parents. In fact, Rosa has eyes for Neville Landless (played quite amusingly by Corin Wrigley) an “exotic” newcomer from Ceylon.
Perhaps the cleverest part of The Mystery of Edwin Drood is its metatheatre twists. It’s a musical within a play.
A ridiculously sideburned MC in Victorian garb (a lynchpin turn from the engaging Alan Penty) leads us in and out of the action. He winkingly comments on the proceedings and jokes with the actors.
The most dramatic wrinkle occurs in Act II. We, the audience, must decide by vote who murdered poor Edwin Drood. Some will find this riotous fun; I found it stretched and slowed down the final scenes.
The singing abilities of the cast vary; however, in a romp such as this it seems to matter little. Bjornson doesn’t have a huge voice, yet he is an enjoyably stagey villain. Landry is well cast as Rosa, the ingenue, singing and comporting herself prettily.
Also notable is Tara Britt, who moves and sings well (she may be under-utilized in the supporting role of Helena Landless). Susan Wilkey, as a good-hearted opium peddler, proved herself a strong all-rounder. Wilkey sang with a delicacy that captured Princess Puffer’s damaged psyche; elsewhere she caught the character’s rusty bravado.
Carr’s direction is clear and sure-footed. Special kudos go the Sylvia Hosie, who manages the small miracle of inserting fine ensemble dancing onto a wee stage. The serpentine dancing of the flesh-costumed succubae, who writhe around and on top of a laudanum-soaked Jasper, is almost worth the price of admission. A bowler-hatted Joe Hatherill accompanies capably on piano throughout.
Also terrific: Bill Adams’ full-sized locomotive, which steamed on stage as the audience cheered.