Musical makes a splash When the apocalypse hits, might as well sing By: Holly Harris Posted: 3:07 PM CDT Monday, May. 6, 2024

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This article was published 06/05/2024 (862 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Little Debbie Geller has a big problem on her hands. She’s turning eight and isn’t able to find any friends to come to her birthday party. And oh, the world is about to end, thanks to catastrophic flooding, just as she’s blowing out her candles.

Theatre Projects Manitoba caps its 2023/24 season with the world première of apocalyptic musical End of the Line, a co-production with Winnipeg’s Walk&Talk Theatre Company that’s been six years in the making.

The brainchild of W&T’s three co-founders — playwright Ben Townsley, composer/lyricist Duncan Cox and choreographer/movement coach Tanner Manson (all perform in the show) — the 150-minute production (including intermission) has experienced its own deluge of workshops, staged readings, sing-alongs and audience talkback sessions since 2018, now surfacing with an eight-performance run at the University of Winnipeg’s Asper Centre for Theatre and Film.

Winnipeggers adore their musicals, and this all-original, highly ambitious show that speaks to the passion of its creators is the latest in that lineage.

Andraea Sartison successfully navigates the inherent rapids of a complex ensemble show, imaginatively directing an eight-member cast of youthful actors/singers, with a live rock band featuring Matthew Kozicki on bass, Josh Bellan on guitar and percussionist Brendan Thompson, led by dynamo music director/keyboardist Paul De Gurse, marking his TPM debut.

The story tells the tale of young Debbie (Victoria Emilie Hill), a can-do girl desperate to throw herself a birthday bash, despite having just moved to the fictional coastal town of Heart City. As she begins chasing down potential party guests, she crosses paths with a rogues’ gallery of quirky characters on their own journeys of self-discovery and empowerment.

A few of those include people-pleaser/lifeguard Lance Brooks (Cox) “looking for love,” who sings of his plight in Drowning in Me; Oliver Wild (Townsley), a paleontologist now digging graves while delivering a fine reprise of Evolution of Life; and the high-strung Wade Fitzpatrick (Manson), who fumes during Lost at Sea after his precious diplomas become destroyed by flood waters.

The narrative is further propelled by smarmy swimming-pool salesman Jackson Murray (Kamal Chioua), whose skimping on pool liners ultimately leads to massive neighbourhood flooding — not to mention the entire town reeking of chlorine — as well as his inferior river dam, which creates a doomsday scenario as cracks begin to form.

The play’s premise is chilling during our own times of devastating floods, wildfires, earthquakes and tornadoes caused by spiralling climate change.

This might all sound utterly depressing. However, Townsley’s sharply written, clever script is awash with waves of wit and shrewd insights about the nature of human relationships, blind faith, media circuses and Icarus-like ambition.

His book is matched equally by Cox’s 17 scorched-earth musical arrangements — belted out by the cast for all its worth, including nifty four-part harmonies — that helps keep the show’s darker undertow on an even keel.

It takes a while to get to know these oddball, all-too-human characters. A lengthy, convoluted backstory depicting the fateful switching of babies Jackson and Miles, as heard during The Rock, Paper, Scissors Tourney of ‘96, delays these inhabitants from establishing relationships with each other — the lifeblood of theatre.

The show also tends to run at fever pitch, ironically dissipating its own energy by numbing viewers (at least this one) with ongoing intensity, the cast’s rapid-fire text often becoming subsumed by the band.

A few contrasting ballads would have provided welcome ballast, such as Lance’s tender second-act love duet Adrift, sung with Jean van der Merwe’s Miles Dufrey, allowing viewers to absorb the higher-flying tunes.

The first half, clocking in at nearly 80 minutes, proves too much of a good thing; a little battening down of hatches, including whittling of scenes or even cutting a song or two, would have made this a tighter, more audience-friendly show.

Still, the production shines with confident performances, including Montana Lehmann’s Cindy Chase, a passive-aggressive news anchor/weatherwoman for HCTV, who hilariously states she has “seen an oracle” during her own awakening, ripping through 40 days of weather forecasts in Oracle Pt. 1 and Pt. 2, before quitting her job.

Another is tireless “boat builder” Bethany Dubois, with Hera Nalam crafting her character as carefully as the ark she constructs to save the townspeople from their watery graves; her Nobody Told Me is a highlight.

The show’s allusions to archetypal Bible stories, such as Noah’s ark, as well as tenets of discipleship and blind faith at all costs, countered by its message to keep pursuing your dreams despite living during the “end days,” are some of its greatest, thought-provoking strengths.

Manson’s choreography/movement score is terrific, including ripples of disco, jitterbug, the “wave,” and other contemporary idioms, as fluid as the deep blue sea. One wishes to hear Cox’s slick songs again, including catchy ear-worm Seabreeze Ease, while the opener, A Birthday Party for Ghosts, and a final spooky reprise in which Happy Birthday is woven into the band’s textures, are truly haunting.

Kudos also to Daina Leitold for her versatile, “playsuit-type” costumes, and particularly set/lighting designer Kerem Çetinel for his evocative river dam, its backlit, paned glass panels looming above the stage suggesting a crashing tidal wave, while its raked front stage area morphs into a beach at Lovers’ Cove.

And then there’s Debbie, with Hill’s spot-on portrayal creating a foot-stamping, pigeon-toed heroine who refuses to give up against all odds. We could all take a page from this plucky protagonist, who triumphantly declares, “It’s party time!” in the face of peril, and plunges headlong into life as if there’s no tomorrow.

holly.harris@shaw.ca