6:00 PM PDT 10/26/2014 by David Rooney
Rachel Tucker & Michael Esper Photo: Joan Marcus
Sting returns to his childhood home in its dying days as a shipbuilding port in this allegorical musical about hope and redemption
He may not appear onstage, but there’s no mistaking the voice of Sting in both wistful balladeer and rousing reveler modes in his stirring score for The Last Ship. Set against the demise of the shipyards in the composer’s hometown of Wallsend in North East England, this melancholy musical is without doubt a heartfelt, intensely personal project. It’s performed with vigorous commitment by an accomplished cast, robustly staged by Joe Mantello, and designed by David Zinn with a harsh beauty that seems salvaged out of the rusted hull of a once-proud sea vessel. Sadly, it’s also a bit of a yawn.
For anyone who cares about the endangered species of the original Broadway musical, that’s a regrettable shortcoming, particularly when so much love and artistry have been poured into the show. There’s genuine feeling in the songs’ exploration of the conflicted bonds between fathers and sons, and the crippling losses of men robbed of their work, thereby denied their dignity and pride.
So what’s missing? It’s easy to see the central figure of Gideon Fletcher as a romanticized alter ego of Sting (Gordon Sumner at birth). But the plodding book by John Logan and Brian Yorkey gives him too little psychological dimension to come alive. It also strands him among generic characters and clichéd situations seen in countless Brit films set in depressed industrial towns blighted by Thatcherism. What’s worse is that it falls back on that old standby of using allegory as an excuse for a plot that — sorry — simply doesn’t float.
As pretty as the songs are, this is the rare musical that needs fewer numbers and more book scenes. That’s especially the case in the shuffling second act, in which serious anthemic overload takes hold.
There are two principal narrative threads that gradually entwine. One focuses on Gideon (Collin Kelly-Sordelet), who clashes with his father Joe (Jamie Jackson) over his refusal to take an apprenticeship in the shipyards. He flees up the River Tyne, promising his sweetheart Meg (Dawn Cantwell) that he’ll come back for her.
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On a visual level, the production is impressive, and Mantello keeps things moving as best he can in a bloated show that’s at least a half-hour too long. Zinn’s set, with its corroded walls, thick ropes and industrial scaffolds and gangways, is evocative, bathed in the shadowy textures of Christopher Akerlind‘s burnished lighting. Water imagery is a frequent motif, seen to gorgeous effect across a scrim through the opening number. The choreography, by poetic movement specialist Steven Hoggett, fits the material. But all the rowdy, hyper-masculine stomping and suspended gestures grow repetitive, unfortunately calling to mind the merciless Forbidden Broadway parody of Hoggett’s work on Once.
The musical’s chief distinction is Sting’s score, which includes most of the 2013 album of the same name as well as a handful of pre-existing tracks (“All This Time,” “Island of Souls,” “When We Dance”). The artist’s fans alone may be enough to constitute an initial audience. Even if his rhymes can be a touch insistent (“Life is a dance, a romance where ye take your chances/Just don’t be left on the shores of regretful glances”), Sting’s skill with musical narrative is unquestionable. If the numbers eventually wear out their welcome that has less to do with the quality and diversity of the Celtic-flavored score than with the problematic storytelling of Logan and Yorkey’s book. The truth is that all the melodic tunes in the world can’t save a show from the crucial failing of being dull.