“This is no small thing,” says Jack Twist (Mike Feist) of the depth of fascination he experiences in “Brokeback Mountain.”
But this rodeo cowboy could equally point to the ongoing life of Annie Purx’s famous short story. First published in the pages of The New Yorker in 1997 and distilling a tragically shortened case, Pulx’s story has become an Oscar-winning film, an opera, and now a self-proclaimed musical play.
this Latest iteration Opening Thursday night at @sohoplace theaters in the West End and running through August 12th, it offers a glimpse of powerful and familiar characters. That’s where the bare minimum of the story is. Flesh and blood and muscles that are dramatically needed are not.
I was happy to renew my acquaintance with outgoing Jack and the more shy and troubled Ennis Del Mar (Lucas Hedges). The two began a secret relationship in 1963 while shepherding in rural Wyoming, the setting of the title.
But American author Ashley Robinson’s adaptation, in the acclaimed film, which is 45 minutes longer than the play, is about a subject many will inevitably associate with Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger. , I don’t know if it actually helps us understand (Jonathan Butterell’s Atmosphere Watch) 90 minutes running, no intermission).
Told in bits and pieces for two decades, the play draws on the charm of British musician Dan Gillespie Sells, with whom Butterell collaborated on the (very nice) domestic stage and film musical Everyone’s Talking About Jamie. separated by a sequence of original songs.
The enchanting country vibes of his music are delivered here with a punch by Scottish singer-songwriter Eddie Reader and an ace band visible offstage. Look closely and you’ll see BJ Cole, the pedal steel guitarist who worked with Elton. Such as John Arma Trading and Joan Arma Trading.
Music exists to express emotions that men and married women are reluctant to voice out. The leader, who is touted as a ballad, is given a clarity that is lacking in nearby characters on stage who live in their bodies rather than their minds.
The standout number, “Sharing Your Heart,” comes at a moment when Ennis’ wife Alma (sympathetic Emily Fean) realizes her husband’s undying love lies elsewhere. On another track, the lyrics describe a “lavender sky,” which could easily have been described in the film, but here you have to take it for granted. Tom Pie’s evocative set keeps things coming to life close to the ground in the kitchen, the campfire, and the tent that allowed Ennis and Jack to become intimate for the first time.
They tried to get out of the cold, but found more comfort in each other’s arms, and the tent shook with the cues of lust going on inside. What we don’t understand, other than The Stolen Kiss, is the multi-layered development of the relationship, with an intensity that surprises the pair, that is so poignantly evoked in both the book and the film.
It’s one thing, near the start of the play, that Jack looks on with obvious intrigue as Ennis washes up. But the sentences are too general and the action too omitted to fully feel the weight of what’s going on between the two of them.
“I’m not queer,” Ennis says early on, trying to deny the emotions that would erode his life. What’s missing is a proper amount of time spent together to feel the ebb and flow of this impossible romance. As it stands, over the course of the years indicated by the ages of Innis’ two daughters and Jack’s son, we get a series of highlights that look more like commentary on the play than the play itself. Mentions of the Vietnam War and conscription provide a perfunctory nod to the wider world beyond.
Of course, on screen, actors can age on the way to the story’s darker ending. The innovation here is that old Ennis (a grieving Paul Hickey) is always by his side and the story is reframed as a memory play to show Jack’s continued influence on Ennis. is. The effect, at least for me, was like looking back at Sam Shepard’s The Fool for Love. This is another play about a flammable relationship defined by a character named Old Man.
The lead duo, in their West End debuts, are beautifully acquitted considering the formidable challenges posed by the film’s pioneers. Hedges may not have the immediate physical command that Ledger had on screen, but he wrinkles his late predecessor’s brow and evokes a raging sense of pain at society’s intolerance. shared and to some extent his own. This person will never know peace.
And Feist, with his memorable resilience and vibrancy as a riff in Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story remake, is truly brilliant. He’s charming and likable from the start, but he reaches a mental abyss en route to Jack’s signature comments to Ennis: I wish I knew how to quit you. Feist, pausing to play the mean harmonica, more than justifies a performance that could otherwise feel a little extra.
This “Brokeback” may not make anyone cry, but I didn’t. But I think Feist’s performance will be as unforgettable as Jack is for Ennis.
Brokeback Mountain
Until August 12th at @sohoplace in London. sohoplace.org
