A two act dance thriller, more Grand Guignol than melodrama, The McOnie Company’s Jekyll & Hyde is never boring, but nor is it as edgy or thrilling as a work based on Robert Louis Stevenson’s seminal novella, The Strange Case Of Dr Jekyll and Mister Hyde, might expect to be.
It starts with a flourish. As attractive a cast as can be found on a London stage powers into action. Men in brightly coloured suits dancing in a manner that would have pleased Jerome Robbins. Woman in big Fifties skirts with equal colour and long legs agitating in rhythm. The feel is very urban, very dark. The pace picks up and for a moment you could be forgiven for thinking you were watching West Side Story.
As the piece continues, it holds that essence, but gives way to others: a flower seller more reminiscent of Little Shop Of Horrors than My Fair Lady, touches of The Rocky Horror Show and more than a soupçon of American Psycho. By the end, it feels a little like Dexter! the Musical (if such a piece existed) complete with homages to Gershwin, Ravel, Bernstein and even Lloyd-Webber.
This is The McOnie Company’s Jekyll & Hyde, a two act dance thriller, more Grand Guignol than melodrama, devised by Drew McOnie and Grant Olding and premiering at The Old Vic. The performances lift the work beyond its natural limits with effortless style and focused energy; it is never boring, but nor is it as edgy or thrilling as a work based on Robert Louis Stevenson’s seminal novella, The Strange Case Of Dr Jekyll and Mister Hyde, might expect to be.
The programme reveals that the partnership between Drew McOnie (director, concept) and Grant Olding (Music) is a close and symbiotic one. McOnie provides an outline, Olding watches the work and composes music, thinking about how it might be danced or watched. With the cast, they create the work, everything connected, encouraged, blooming, nothing imposed or pre-determined.
Once you understand that impressive, and probably unique, approach to creative juicing, this piece becomes more comprehensible. McOnie is an astonishingly inventive and vigorous choreographer, with an eye for broad stroke story-telling and impressive moments of evocative theatricality – the initial transformation scene here, when Mister Hyde emerges from within Dr Jekyll, while showering, is powerful and memorable; a heightened fusion of drama, dance and body language.
Olding provides music which, in the moment, works sufficiently well to support the movement of bodies on stage and the progression of the story. But unlike, say, Bernstein’s work in West Side Story, the score of The McOnie Company’s Jekyll & Hyde does not stand alone; apart from the occasional number, there is no tune here you would choose to listen to absent seeing McOnie’s staging at the same time.
Those interested in music can trace references to the work of other composers throughout the piece, not in any intrusive way, but in a way which emphasises the theme of transformation which underpins everything in The McOnie Company’s Jekyll & Hyde. There is a section in the second Act, for instance, which appears to riff on Ravel’s Bolero, very effectively it has to be said; another shamelessly, but artfully, pays homage to Bernstein’s Somewhere. There are many other instances; none are irritating and none feel cheap.
Stevenson’s basic plot is very loosely retained in this version although there are many changes, and from a narrative point of view none of them are particularly successful. Jekyll runs a florist shop and appears to experiment in distilling the essence of nature from flowers. He hits upon a formula he likes and realises that adding his own blood to the formula enhances potency. Jekyll is shy, unassuming, insecure, the epitome of nerdy geeky sweetness; the formula releases his inhibitions and unleashes his hidden desires and feelings.
After some dabbling, Jekyll goes for broke and this time the use of the formula results in a new spirt – Hyde – breaking forth and controlling Jekyll. Unlike in the original, McOnie uses two different physical forms to represent the differing characters fighting for permanent control of Jekyll. Hyde is physically more impressive, amoral, predatory and murderous – he cuts a swathe through Jekyll’s flower-named female acquaintances (Rose, Iris, Ivy, Dahlia, Lily, Daisy) and their male partners/lovers/attendants (some of whom are humorously named Steven, Robert and Louis – get it?) and by the finale there are more dead bodies than in any given production of Hamlet.
In the end, Jekyll faces up to the havoc and misery he has caused and kills Hyde, thereby killing himself. But before that there are some romantic passages, some unnecessary sexual violence perpetrated upon women and a lot of flower imagery. The underlying flower power theme suggests a parallel with notions of lives being liberated by drugs and at several points it appears as though the Hyde character is omnisexual and that latent homosexuality might be released by his actions with some of the other men. But neither the flower power themes or the fluid sexuality issues resolve themselves or reach any point of climax or denouement.
Some aspects of the narrative of The McOnie Company’s Jekyll & Hyde are clear, most actually. Others are not. In the first Act, there is a sequence where the ensemble dance in blue skirts; the reasons for that are never clear. In the second Act, there is a sequence with skirts, but this time it seems clear enough that the ensemble are here playing the various flowers cultivated by Jekyll.
The result is, overall, surprisingly flat. McOnie and Olding need a third hand at the wheel – one that can objectively assess what they have achieved, and without being overwhelmed or consumed by the task of creation, be ruthless about shaping and illuminating the story being told, both musically and through dance. Given the very high standard of commitment and investment by every single member of the company, the end result should be more thrilling, more exciting, more captivating than it actually is here. The dull patches, the repetitive patches, are bewildering – this should be, and so easily could be, with a fresh set of eyes, a glittering triumph.
The cast do exceptional work. Through dance they effortlessly communicate mood, intricate and complex intrigue, intense feelings and a varied and uncompromising array of romantic responses to highly-charged sequences. Evolving because of or through change is a constant, consistent thematic pulse. There are many humorous touches which are welcome given the overwhelming horror and revulsion inherent in the tale of Jekyll’s undoing.
Daniel Collins works ceaselessly as Dr Jekyll and is highly effective throughout, but especially in the second Act as the agony and the ecstasy of his Hyde persona casts a pall over his simple existence. He is a compelling performer and communicates much without words. There was no trace of his Showboat performance here, a fact which reflects well on Collins and makes both performances (in Showboat and here) that much more impressive.
McOnie’s choreography is complex and quirky, which is fascinating to watch, often, and must be difficult to perform. Collins manages with ease and style, although it is true that one is always aware that he is dancing. He is at his best in duet mode and his scenes with Tim Hodges’ alarming and seductively violent Hyde are highly charged and create a real sense of loss, tension and, ultimately, surrender.
Equally, Collins effectively convinces in his tentative romantic liaison with Rachel Muldoon’s gentle, but doomed, Dahlia and in his platonic friendship with the sweet, but equally doomed, Daisy (a vivacious Alexzandra Sarmiento). This triangle is juxstaposed against the more erotically charged other triangle, involving Hodges’ Hyde, Barnaby Thompson’s hipster-bearded Louis and the sensationally sexy, but doomed, Ivy, played with scintillating sureness by Ebony Molina.
Yes, the central female characters are all doomed and, largely, their contributions come as adjuncts to those of the men. They are trophies rather than triumphs of independence. The sexual violence in which they are involved is unnecessarily brutal and slightly fetishist. This is the least satisfactory aspect of McOnie and Goulding’s achievement.
Jason Winter’s boorish but super confident Charlie (unlikely to be named this accidentally) provides a perceptive contrast to the more excessive, hedonist and demonic Hyde. Hodges is expert at conveying the sense of total disregard and amoral abandonment which characterises Hyde as Collins’ Jekyll’s inner opposite. Despite that, there is a sense of communion between the two and it is easy to see that Hyde is what Jekyll might wish he was and, more than that, that Jekyll might be a little in love with his obsession.
In an ensemble with no weak links, Ashley Andrews impresses with his bold physicality and willingness to use every part of his body to convey mood and character. He is, in turns, funny and tragic.
Soutra Gilmour’s clever set adds to the impression that The McOnie Company’s Jekyll & Hyde exists in the shadows cast by West Side Story and Little Shop Of Horrors. A constantly moving metal frame suggests the various locales, as the hard-working company move props and pieces. The programme suggests that the setting is London in the 1950s; while that might be so, the whole piece actually feels very Manhattan. There is excellent lighting from Richard Howell, who uses the sensations between light and dark very effectively here, and great sound provided by Sebastian Frost.
This is a major new work which highlights the skills of a gifted cast and emphasises the theatrical genius of Drew McOnie. Goulding’s contribution slightly reduces the theatricality of the storytelling, but obscurity in some aspects of the narrative, and some uncertainty of purpose in repetition of sequences/passages, is a greater impediment to ultimate success. Some pruning and re-alignment would benefit this work greatly. There are few quibbles about the execution of the material, but creatively the overall vision needs more careful attention.
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