Phlegm's story is also framed within a romantic subplot, as the widowed scientist resists admitting his feelings for his Greek colleague Amalia (Kelly Glyptis, giving easily the best vocal performance of the evening,) even as his lab partner Merlin Pryce (Kieran Brown) tries to matchmake the pair.
It's a surprise to find that writers Robin Hiley (music and lyrics) and Becky Hope-Palmer (book) are actually Scottish as the show, which even ends with a bagpipe solo, has big "Americans-doing-Celtic" energy, all fiddles and diddly-dee. The music never reaches the rousing levels it's so clearly aiming for, and the attempts to anchor both timelines in love stories also fail: The modern-day strand gets lost in preaching against overprescribing antibiotics, while Amalia disappears for most of the second act as Phlegm is mostly seen in flashbacks to two world wars (and no world cups.)
At one point during one of these scenes Phlegm's oldest childhood friend is mortally injured and brought into the field hospital, resulting in a bizarre exchange that suggests Phlegm's memory only works if you're incredibly specific with him:
Nurse: A wounded officer's come in, he says he knows you.
Phlegm: Who is it?
Nurse: He says you used to go fishing together.
Phlegm:
Phlegm:
Phlegm:
Nurse: For trout.
Phlegm: OMG Clowes!
The dialogue is very heavy on exposition, with Aaron being frequently informed he's an international rock star, Jess and Aaron's friend Julian (Robbie Scott) mentioning he's married and Aaron's mother Layla (Helen Logan) clarifying that it's to a man so the audience knows the show's ticked off its minimum LGBTQ+ representation, and Phlegm and Amalia reiterating to each other how prestigious the new job she's landed in Athens is.
The show's big selling point is that it was the first musical to be performed at the United Nations, something which goes a long way to explain how preachy it feels, and its weird insistence that the audience is personally responsible for ensuring antibiotics stop getting overprescribed. Alex Howarth's production throws everything it can at the stage to ensure an emotional response, including a rotating chorus of real-life health workers who introduce themselves and their work at length at the curtain call, but in the end the story is too haphazardly built around a dossier of information to actually be moving.
Lifeline by Robin Hiley and Becky Hope-Palmer is booking until the 2nd of May at Southwark Playhouse Elephant.
Running time: 2 hours 35 minutes including interval.
Photo credit: Charlie Flint.





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