Ever since his mother was killed in a car crash when he was six, Henry has been able to travel back in time to see her again for brief periods. But he can't control when this happens, when he travels to and for how long, or when he gets back. And he can't take clothes with him.
It turns out that after this first meeting, Henry's trips also take him back to times in Clare's life, beginning when she's ten years old. So that by the time they meet in a more traditional timeline Henry's essentially been imprinted on her as a romantic ideal so they fall in love, get married and continue a relationship that has a couple of questionable attitudes to consent on both sides. Look I've only seen the film version so maybe it's all less icky in the book, but it's not just me is it? I know I'm not particularly romantically inclined but maybe that's for the best if this is the sort of thing people are into.
So, yes, going into this I already knew there was going to be a weirdness to proceedings, and that’s certainly something that seems to have flummoxed the creatives, who give us a show that veers wildly around genres and moods. So there’s a general sense that we’re in an earnest fantasy romance, with a darker undertone that never feels properly realised. Then there’s the couple’s friends, Gomez (Tim Mahendran) and Charisse (Hiba Elchikhe) whose scenes are all done as cheesy sitcom. The aforementioned plotline about Henry’s feet being amputated has actually been cut here, avoiding a further weird lurch into Grand Guignol, but there is still a touch of body horror in Henry’s descriptions of his mother’s death.
There’s certainly a sense that despite the grander themes, Henry and Clare’s world is made unhealthily tiny and insular by his condition – the fact that Gomez and Charisse are the couple’s only friends feels highlighted when, within a couple of scenes of their first, terse meeting, Gomez turns up as Henry’s best man. And the resulting small ensemble makes for one of the most awkward elements of all: I couldn’t tell you much about whether Shelley Maxwell’s choreography is any good, the fact that it’s there at all is distracting enough and definitely has the feel of a couple of group dance numbers being added because, well, it’s a musical so you’ve got to. So the show seizes on a couple of opportunities – like the wedding reception – to shoehorn them in, with both the tenuousness of the links and the sparseness of the ensemble making the whole thing feel less slick than what surrounds it.
The other thing a musical needs of course is songs, and the supergroup of Sausage & Stewart ends up providing a disappointingly bland, forgettable selection, especially in the first act. The Act II opener “Journeyman” is the show’s most dynamic number and probably the best, and there’s a couple of other moments in this second half where the music kicks up a gear, but despite Hunter and Woodward’s strong performances the music is one of the least successful elements. Fitting songs in can’t be helping with the fact the story feels very heavily edited and rushed, either: I’m not sure it’s ever properly established that Henry can jump forwards as well as backwards in time until the plot requires it, while we get two doom-laden visitations from Henry’s eventual fate, only one of which is resolved. When the climax comes it’s quick and underwhelming as Henry gets shot by a couple of random guys from, I’m guessing, Operation Yewtree.
Where Bill Buckhurst’s production most succeeds is in the visuals, and Anna Fleischle’s set uses a double revolve and interlocking walls to neatly take us quickly between times and locations, as well as providing plenty of hiding spaces for Chris Fisher’s illusions to make Henry appear and disappear. Although from the Balcony (my first time there in a decade, it having finally reopened after the ceiling caved in) Hunter’s body double taking his place is often clearly visible, and the least said about those times someone holds a blanket over him at a weird angle as if it’s a somehow subtle way of vanishing him the better. One of the reasons “Journeyman” stands out is the clever use of Andrzej Goulding’s projections to dramatically show Hunter flying through time and space – it’s another tonal lurch but, frankly, by this point the show is already more lurch than tone. Less successful is the use of video to create silhouettes of Henry, a cheesily obvious way of avoiding showing him naked. Also, it would be good if the video was synced up so that a shoe hits Henry just after Clare throws it, not… a couple of lines before.
In the current financial environment I can’t blame producers for clinging to fairly obvious moneymakers attached to popular properties, and at least the evening provides some entertainment, even if it’s the kind that leaves you nonplussed. And if we don’t get to see David Hunter flashing all his parts, I’m not going to complain about the parts we do get. But given how much the creative team struggle to fit the story into the musical theatre genre, it’s hard to believe anyone ever genuinely thought the two would be a natural match.
The Time Traveller’s Wife by Lauren Gunderson, Joss Stone, Dave Stewart and Kait Kerrigan, based on the novel by Audrey Niffenegger, is booking until the 30th of March 2024 at the Apollo Theatre, Shaftesbury Avenue.
Running time: 2 hours 25 minutes including interval.
Photo credit: Johan Persson
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