ajhlovestheatre

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

Music and lyrics by Neil Bartram

Book by Brian Hill

directed by Robert McWhir

Stage Door Theatre, London – until 19 October 2024

https://www.stagedoortheatre.co.uk/the-story-of-my-life-4-sept-19-oct/

Not every musical needs to be on Broadway and it’s rather sad that the reputation of this two handed tuner has gone down in the annals of the Great White Way as being a notorious flop (it lasted a mere five performances) when in fact it has a lot going for it. The charms of The Story Of My Life are amplified by being seen up close in this intimate new venue above a Drury Lane pub, in an exquisitely modulated production by Robert McWhir, whose lengthy tenure at the much missed Landor Theatre repeatedly demonstrated his adeptness at creating musical theatre magic on a stage the size of a postage stamp.

Neil Bartram and Brian Hill’s show inhabits similar territory, pitched half way between traditional musical and song cycle for two players, as Jason Robert Brown’s acclaimed The Last Five Years, which is set to finally have its Broadway bow this season, over twenty years after it was first seen. However, where Brown’s work has an unusual time structure and some potent emotional punch, Bartram and Hill’s is a more whimsical, less histrionic affair. It’s a study of friendship between two men, grief, and the art of storytelling, with just a hint of unrequited love. I can imagine that in a venue much larger than this it could register as a bit insipid, but up close and personal it’s pretty lovely.

On an all white set by David Shields that simultaneously evokes a blank page (one of the friends is a writer) and the heavenly plane to which the other friend has ascended (the story turns on the former attempting to eulogise the latter), Markus Sodergren and Tim Edwards convincingly age up and down, soliloquise, bicker, and deliver a series of nicely crafted songs. Bartram’s elegiac numbers, which do become a little samey in all honesty, sound heavily Sondheim influenced with their shimmering elegance and sometimes unexpected melodic hooks. As played by Aaron Clingham’s exquisite three piece band (keys, woodwind and cello) it sounds absolutely beautiful. The programme doesn’t specify if the orchestrations are the original ones by Jonathan Tunick (they certainly have the flavour of his work) or if they’re newly created by Clingham, but they are perfect for this space and this delicate material, crucially never overwhelming the often excellent lyrics.

If Hill’s script doesn’t offer anything particularly revelatory or even dramatic, it sketches the two men (Sodergren’s dynamic writer Thomas and Edwards’s quirky, puppyish bookstore owner Alvin) with efficiency and a large dose of affection. Sodergren has a natural likability that mitigates somewhat against his character’s self-centred nature, but he could possibly find a little more stillness in the role, particularly as a more mature man. Edwards draws a tender portrait of a vulnerable but bright young man who never got over the loss of his mother. Both sing superbly.

There are suggestions that Alvin’s feelings for Thomas extend beyond the platonic but this isn’t fully explored. That’s symptomatic of a show that washes pleasantly over you without ever throwing up anything particularly distinguished or confrontational, even the details of Alvin’s death are left non-specific. Anybody who likes their musicals with a healthy side order of bombast will be disappointed. The constant allusions to It’s A Wonderful Life get a little repetitive.

Still, this is a very agreeable eighty minutes, suffused with genuine talent. It won’t rock your world but it might make you appreciate the friendships in your life, and the music is tremendously enjoyable.