For one night only at the Lord of the Rings – stage magic Tolkien couldn’t dream of
It’s every company’s nightmare. Three cast members down (including a few leads) and an understudy on book. A sold-out Saturday night audience is waiting for some musical magic. Either you cancel, or you take a leap of faith – stepping into the road with no knowing where you might be swept off to.
In the case of the Watermill’s Lord of the Rings company – it was decided to go with the latter. Quickly re-blocking scenes and plotting moments, the company kicked off their show 30 minutes late. Director Paul Hart, in expectation management mode, came out to warn punters that they should expect a pared down version of the show – fewer costume changes, no dramatic set-pieces, puppetry or projection.
With the material at its most exposed, the board was set and the pieces began moving.
What ensued was, of course, a perfectly-pitched evening. From time-to-time, cast members would hop out of scenes to explaining what would be about to happen, channelling their best Chorus from Shakespeare’s Henry V: “imagine a giant underground fire demon would be here”, “imagine Frodo is about to be stabbed by a giant spider”, “imagine I’m about to be mortally wounded” or “imagine a great battle between men and orcs”.
This was all achieved through impeccable comic timing – like a charming take on Brechtian Alienation – made even more amusing when it was discovered that one of the cast members was reading from an old version of the script.
Stripped back, it fell to the cast and the tunes to do more heavy lifting than a troll at the Black Gate of Mordor. A R Rahman, Värttinä and Christopher Nightingale’s deftly wrought score, adapted and orchestrated by Mark Aspinall, soared with enchanting clarity while brought to life by a company that rarely left the stage. Instrumental moments, like during great battles, thrilled with a percussive and visceral oomph – even though little was physically taking place.
What’s more, you could feel the cast grow in confidence as the night progressed – realising that they were, with a reverential care for the material, holding a) the night together and b) the audience in the palm of their hands.
Individual performances stood out in new ways – Louis Maskell deftly channelled Frodo’s corruption even without the projection and lighting employed to demonstrate the One Ring’s power, while Nuwan Huw Perera’s Sam hardened into the moral backbone of the story with startling stage presence – culminating in a guttural cry as he lugged his faithful friend up the slopes of Mount Doom.
Reece Causton, on book as Strider, maintained a stoic presence as the Fellowship’s figurehead, while Peter Dukes was a warm, jovial narrator on top of his role as Boromir – embellishing Shaun McKenna and Matthew Warchus’s book with enough context and description to let the story flow cohesively.
Stellar work was also done by the additional two performers covering roles – Patrick Bridgman as Gandalf, as well as Sioned Saunders – not only acting as on-stage MD, but also tackling some of the trickiest musical numbers of recent history while playing Galadriel. The rest of the cast often seemed to operate as one mind (to rule them all), bound by their commitment to giving ticketholders a good time. You’d also wager Tolkien being enamoured by the idea of his work being staged at a watermill, after his own fondness for a similar structure in Hall Green, Birmingham, which inspired his idea’s for the Shire.
If you were looking for some sweeping parallel – the company’s diehard endeavours over the weekend echoed those of the venue itself. Recently (and unfathomably) stripped of its NPO status, the Watermill has come back fighting – proving in a single broadside that it can produce five-star theatre of international class.
Similarly, the show’s slightly depleted company created a unique experience that will be remembered for many years to come. Stories casting their spell, now and for always.
