Brigadoon review – dreamy escapism in the heart of Regent’s Park

The show begins with the haunting sound of bagpipes and drums, rising high above the trees into the air. On opening night, this was accompanied by a smirr that fell gently on the audience, leaving them “drookit”.

But the drizzle just added to the sense that the Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre is the perfect setting for Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe’s 1947 musical Brigadoon, a show about an enchanting Scottish village that only appears every 100 years and thrives on the healing qualities of nature and the possibilities of feeling.

It is a truly magical evening. Drew McOnie’s first production as director and choreographer since he took over Regent’s Park this year has a shining clarity of purpose. With the help of a book by Rona Munro that keeps the emotion but strips away the sentiment, the production sweeps along on a wave of luscious songs (“The Heather on the Hill”, “Almost Like Being in Love”) warm enough to ward off any inclement weather.

Munro makes the two Americans, open-hearted Tommy (Louis Gaunt) and hard-bitten Jeff (Cavan Clarke), who arrive in Brigadoon “as if we dropped in from another world” airmen, not tourists. They are bomber crew fighting a terrible World War Two. That makes explicit the darkness that surrounds this village that is not on any map, playing up the contrasts between its fairytale archaism and the real world. It also makes the story’s unlikely conclusion more satisfyingly ambivalent.

But although the frame has slightly changed, this Brigadoon keeps the sense that it is, above all, a romance, a story about the power of love. It’s full of subtle tributes to the Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse film that is its best-known incarnation. Danielle Fiamanya’s clear-voiced, kind and determined Fiona wears a New Look lemony dress in tribute to Charisse; McOnie’s choreography keeps the swooning, circular shapes of Agnes de Mille’s original while adding more contemporary touches. A sword dance and some Scottish reels still make an appearance.

Everywhere, the picture-book qualities of the original are referenced but not slavishly followed. The costumes by Sami Fendall are gorgeous, all mossy greens and soft yellows, leavened by pink; they look both authentic and modern; Basia Bińkowska’s set of sharp, textured ramps is softened by purple heather and gentle grasses, beautifully lit by Jessica Hung Han Yun. Laura Bangay’s music direction of a tight band brings out both the traditional and the Broadway.

There’s a lovely lightness and humour to proceedings, as McOnie sets his ensemble jumping and turning across the stage. The movement, as you would expect given his dance background, is superb and sometimes carries the weight of the story. When Nic Myers’ lively Meg tells Jeff about her past romances, they are embodied by a group of tumbling, stretching dancers. Most touchingly, when Jasmine Jules Andrews’ delightfully giggling Jean greets Charlie (Gilli Jones) on their wedding day, they dance (with him blindfolded) in aching bends and turns. His subsequent singing of the glorious “Come to Me, Bend to Me” is softly heartfelt.

The problem with Brigadoon, and perhaps the reason it is so rarely performed, is that its tale of a vanishing village is so essentially preposterous. It’s an issue compounded by a difficult subplot about a boy desperate to escape.

The production doesn’t quite resolve those difficulties. But it manages to honour the dark notes, while leaning into the fantastical qualities. It’s a wonderful piece of escapism for a summer night, an affectionate embrace of a musical, drizzle or no drizzle.