Book, Music, and Lyrics by Meredith Willson

Story by Meredith Willson and Franklin Lacey

Directed by Fraser Grant

Tickets from £25.50

Riding on the high-flying success of last year’s Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Southern Light Opera still finds themselves in the Festival Theatre, looking to raise the rafter with musical splendour and community cheer. And in Meredith Willson’s 1957 musical The Music Man, they find another winner. The tale in which this titular chap brings a whistle and a tune to the residents of River City as he encourages them (at cost) to strike up a marching band. The only issue? The titular man has no idea what he’s talking about. 

Notable for a few of the great musical hits (Seventy Six Trombones being the major highlight) and a classic in all fashions (tone and aesthetic), The Music Man is a hugely adored piece of musical theatre (especially for those across the pond) which, at times, is a product of the age. An understatement, The Music Man suffers similarly to many beloved American musicals of being from a ‘certain time’. Both a credit and hindrance to Southern Light Opera is their dedication to maintaining the integrity of the story and script with just a few tweaks to the lyrics. Audiences may well eye-roll at some of the depictions, certainly of gender stereotypes, but there’s an inescapable joy in how the team come together to raise spirits with good ol’ fashioned entertainment on an enormous scale. 

Much of this has to do with the starring pair of the show, Rebekah Lansley and John Bruce. Immediately at home on the enormous Festival Theatre stage, Bruce’s likeable Professor Harold Hill captures the salesman and huckster elements of the role – easily convincing the crowd to go along with it all. Playing the conman with their sights set on shifting expensive instruments to start up a boys’ marching band before his sights fall onto the local librarian. And, even with the paper-thin excuse and immediacy of his fancy – when Bruce and Lansley come together, the pair together they form a genuinely magnificent two-hander.

But enjoy Lansley whilst you can; there is no question that a very bright future in performance awaits if they so choose to follow that path. Outstanding in vocal control and characterisation, their body language, attitude, and grasp of humour are all fine armaments which make them a devastatingly talented performer – and a fine addition to the cast as Marian Paroo. They also work in terrific tandem with Samantha Lea’s sympathetic Mrs Paroo, and the younger cast, encouraging and sharing touching moments with an aware and emerging talent from Oliver Thomson as Marian’s younger brother Winthrop, struggling with the death of his father, born with a speech impediment. 

And as the pair firmly plant themselves as stars ready for the wider world, Southern Light seems to have found new blood in Susanna Anderson and Eric Whitelaw as the Mayor’s daughter Zaneeta and the loveable rogue and engineering whizz Tommy. For such a blossoming romance, and not the central one to the story, the pair make every moment their own under the ireful gaze of Paul Strilich’s overwhelmed Mayor and Dorothy Johntstone’s stellar turn as his wife, who is as game as ever for all the choreographed and comedic moments.

With considerable thought and energy, Louise Williamson’s choreography is as massive as the other elements – putting the cast to great use for the ensemble numbers. It’s a shame that there’s a peculiar decision to occasionally crowd the stage and limit, even hide, some of the dancing behind comedy and performance simultaneously occurring to the sides. Less distracting is the canny use of projections to side-step any major set changes and limit awkward transitions. Neil McDowell Smith’s designs are often striking, and deeply effective in bringing elements otherwise unachievable – at their best when used as an imaginative reinforcement of the lyrics or actions on the stage below. And though the visuals can be top-notch, the musicality of The Music Man is a proud feather in the cap of Musical Director Maddy Baron, leading a tuneful and bouncing band throughout the evening. 

They lend themselves tightly to Willson’s music resulting in some stand-out large numbers like: ‘Goodnight Ladies’, ‘(Ya Got) Trouble’, and ‘Rock Island’ (with a terrific zeal from “whatayatalk” Scott Walker) or more intimate numbers like the run-away success of the night ‘Till There Was You’ from Lansley and Bruce. The entire ensemble and supporting performers turn in solid musical and vocal performances – few more so than Peter Tomassi’s comedic turn as Marcellus, delivering a ‘Shipoopi’ which won’t be forgotten anytime soon (for ill or pleasure, you decide). While Laurence Aitken, David Bartholomew, Gustav Selstam, and Callum Stott, set aside their differences as feuding men of commerce and school boards to gradually become a barbershop quartet (enjoyably sliding into their dapper dan outfits one at a time with each appearance). They’re an equal match, and often perfectly paired with their counterparts in Helen Smith, Jill Howie, Louise Freeborn, and Ellen Leonard. 

Belting out charm and showmanship all through the theatre thanks to director Fraser Grant, who strikes up the (marching) band for a gigantic celebration of classical musical theatre. Full of brass performances, instrumental and otherwise, The Music Man is another bold tune in the Southern Light repertoire and seldom seen in these parts. Its scale is deserving of selling every ticket, every night, and the bouncing frivolity that comes from its silly premise is steadied by a pair of enormously successful stars in Bruce and Lansley. 

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