FlyBy musical at Southwark Playhouse Borough – review

I’m sure we’ve all longed, at one time or another, to jet off to some place far from our troubles – a desert island, a remote cabin, maybe even the vast emptiness of space. But few of us actually go through with it – especially the intergalactic bit. This new musical’s premise, then, is no small stretch: a rocket scientist applies for a spot on a space mission, then steals a capsule and hurtles off into the void – ostensibly because of girl troubles. But this is a show that likes to stretch itself.

The girl in question is Emily (Poppy Gilbert): magnetic, gifted, cruel. The interstellar sulker is Daniel (Stuart Thompson): shy, sensitive, but with enough bottled-up rage to power a whole fleet of rockets. Through space logs, flashbacks, and (sometimes overly long) exposition from three onstage narrators, we learn about the pair’s combustible relationship and the childhood traumas that fuelled their toxic patterns.

The moments between the couple are the show’s strongest. Here, Theo Jamieson’s script is meticulously naturalistic, sharply observed, and played adeptly by Gilbert and Thompson, who bring easy wit, thrumming chemistry and agonising dysfunction as they let their histories implode their future. There’s also buoyant and inventive direction from co-creator Adam Lenson. But the addition of the narrators, while offering some useful context, often feels like a frustrating distraction, and their delivery strikes an odd tone that lands somewhere between excitable podcaster and cod psychologist.

That said, they are strong performers and, along with Gilbert and Thompson, brilliant singers, too. Which is a good job: the show’s songs, also by Jamieson, are as ambitious as its premise, pushing beyond the usual showtunes (though there are some soaring romantic ballads) and towards chromatic melodies and classical arrangements, played beautifully by the five-piece band, with lyrics both funny and flooring. A fair few could do with a hefty trim, however.

Libby Todd’s small set packs an elaborate punch. The walls of its living room, which flexes from Airbnb to film set to the pair’s apartment, hosts projections of everything from scientific explainers to the small but cumulatively damaging cruelties of Daniel’s early life (“Discouraged from wearing a humorous hat” is just one of many zingers). A sliding panel, meanwhile, reveals Daniel’s space capsule, from which he delivers his logs.

These sections add less, and indeed it is the show’s space-escape premise that proves its biggest challenge. While admirably grand – and providing a smart analogy for Daniel’s historic loneliness – it too often feels like an unnecessary layer of complication. One which, in a show clocking in at a nippy one hour and 45 minutes, saps precious time from the more exciting opportunity at hand: fully exploring these fascinating characters, both individually and as a couple.