A Man of No Importance
If you shy away from
the word ‘charming’ when applied to musicals, don’t see this one. Likewise
‘bittersweet’. A Man of No Importance (book by Terrence
McNally) is based on the movie of the same name, and was first produced in New
York, winning an award for Best Off-Broadway Musical in 2003.
Act One winds its way
to the none-too-startling revelation that our hero, Alfie Byrne, a Dublin bus
conductor in love with poetry, drama and, in particular, the works of Oscar
Wilde, is himself in thrall to the love that dare not speak its name. Act Two
charts the belated rite of passage by which he faces up to his true nature,
finds degradation and, ultimately, acceptance. A none-too-startling plot
either, and, given the fact that the show is set in an Ireland where bus
conductors are still respected members of the community, and still clip
passengers’ tickets, it has bucketfuls of the aforementioned bittersweet charm
and a liberal helping of sentimentality.
The production,
directed by Ben De Wynter, is a low-budget, small-space marvel. Stephen
Flaherty’s music is haunting and evocative, if overly reliant on the lilting
tones of flute and penny-whistle, and Lynn Ahrens’s lyrics are sharp and
well-characterised. A lament on Alfie’s preoccupation with books is
particularly memorable.
Alfie’s great ambition
is to stage an amateur production of Wilde’s Salomé, which, in a tight-knit Catholic community, is
doomed, rather too obviously, to an inglorious end. The chief pleasure of this
show, however, is not the subtlety (or otherwise) of the plotting, but the
ensemble playing of the cast. Olivier Award-winner Paul Clarkson has just the
right combination of believable innocence and beguiling zeal as Alfie,
enthusing his loyal band of bus passengers with the nature of art, and Róisín
Sullivan, the shy girl from Roscommon who is persuaded to be his Salomé, is a
delight. Also notable in a 17-strong cast are Anthony Cable as a widower who
still misses the cuddles of his ample wife, Paul Monaghan as Alfie’s leading
man and subsequent betrayer, and Joanna Nevin as his long-suffering sister.
The Oscar Wilde angle
(and yes, he does make an appearance, to spur on our timid hero) is tiresome
and too clunking a device, but if you want a good-hearted show to send you out
into a wintry night with a smile on your face, this one will more than do the
trick.
– Giles Cole
