A century ago a self-assured adventurer named Ernest Shackleton embarked on the last expedition of the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration. The story of Shackleton’s rescue of his crew from their ill-fated attempt to cross the diameter of Antarctica provides the spine of the musical Ernest Shackleton Loves Me (through May 3rd by Balagan at Seattle Rep.).
Shackleton’s journey is fascinating for reasons ranging from the personal to the socio-political. This Balagan production focuses on the personal, but not the personal experiences of that adventure. Rather the show is interested in the personal challenges faced by Kat (Valerie Vigoda), the sleep-deprived mother of a newborn in present day Brooklyn. At best, equating her feats of endurance with those of the expedition does nothing for either story. At worst, it suggests a regressive attitude toward women.
Effectively a two-person show (Wade McCollum plays the other roles) the musical is light on details. We get enough background on Kat to know that she’s at the end of her rope. She has obstacles (she’s poor, the baby won’t sleep, and she’s so tired she’s hallucinating) but she has almost no conflict. We hear the sound of a crying baby whenever Joe Dipietro (a Tony winner who wrote the book) wants a shot of dramatic tension to remind us why this isn’t a one man show about Shackleton.
Here is where one might warn of spoilers were there much plot outside the Wikipedia entry. Shackleton’s improbable revelation is his love for this 21st Century Brooklyn single mom. He discovers Kat’s music through a nebulous cosmic time/space interface and depends on it to get his crew through their ship-bound over-wintering (strategic use of music, and even plays, to keep crews sane in polar exploration dates to a century before Shackleton).
Kat’s revelation is that she really can throw out her clichéd loser musician of a boyfriend, who has abandoned her and their newborn. The entirety of her conflict rests on the fact that she melts when he writes songs for her. This and sleep deprivation keep her from changing the locks on the apartment or immediately kicking him out when he returns from his failed tour.
Most disturbing is the fact that, were it only Shackleton’s chronicle standing between her and this parasitic man-child, she might succumb to the boyfriend’s musical travelogue metaphors of love. Kat is all ready to give in again when she stumbles on tangible evidence that her journey with Shackleton was more than just a hallucinatory trip through a Wikipedia entry. The implication: a woman without a man—even a polyamorous, man-child, prone to disappearing acts—has no will of her own and needs a romantic interest in her life to provide the will to get rid of the bum.
Plot be damned there are some engaging performances in this show and at least one good song. Unfortunately most of those performances belong to the male half of the cast.
Vigoda does have a lovely voice and plays a variety of instruments well but her acting never connects emotionally. She is most interesting when she is most focused on playing music rather than a character. Lyrics and music are credited to Vigoda and her husband and musical partner, Brendan Milburn, of the band Groovelily.
That male half of the cast, McCollum, is winningly charismatic in nearly all his roles. Whether performing the fatuous, moustache twirling Ponce De Leon or the heroic machismo of Shackleton in braggadocio overdrive, McCollum takes the show over the top in flights of abject silliness.
The show is at its best when it’s least realistic and least serious. DiPietro scores some points in comic bits of plot that establish a theme and deliver a punch line with glorious craftsmanship. The more serious moments and real world context do more harm than good, especially in terms of the show’s relationship with the audience.
That relationship is confused early on as Kat, faced with abandonment and sleeplessness, begins a video blog and the updates it with manic frequency. This allows her to speak to the audience and provide lots of exposition, but the device feels strained.
Kat is presented as an avant-garde opera composer. This justifies her playing instruments on stage (though most of the music is played offstage by Ryan O’Connell) and provides her connection to Shackleton. The trick of a musical played by an experimental composer character, whose works are seen by half a dozen and enjoyed by none, is that there is a disconnect between what she says and what she plays. The edgiest this music gets is an annoying reliance on excessive reverb meant as a comic bit.
Most of the songs sound like most songs in pop musicals (i.e. neither Sondheim nor Webber but somewhere in between, near Jonathon Larson). Most of the lyrics retread the theme of endurance and few songs move the plot forward. The standout number, Stop Rewind Play Record doesn’t do anything for the plot but it is musically interesting. Unfortunately, as with many songs in the show, the balance on this song’s amplification was such on opening night that we often lost Vigoda’s vocal.
The projections (possibly one of the aspects that make this show “unlike any other” according to press materials) are excellent and include much footage from the expedition. However these images draw focus from the onstage performers. The A/V team does nice work integrating McCollum’s projected performances.
Ernest Shackleton Loves Me has overt Broadway ambitions. This Balagan production is the latest in a long series of pre-Broadway development of this material and features a team of industry insiders with serious NYC credentials. One hopes they’ll develop it further and take some lessons from other shows that combine music, projections, and romantic stories of long journeys with greater success.
